Calling Hours in Wyoming

It's a rainy day, and I'm reflective, and not being very productive, so I'll write a bit.

Most of you reading probably know Rock and I, and know that last year at the end of August, I left my position at the First Presbyterian Church of Wyoming, and the two of us moved to Dansville and enterred into this new call to provide a gap year/foundation year/interim year to young adults.

Rock and I have lately been talking about how this year or two of planning and preparing offers time to experience for ourselves what we hope to offer not only to the young adults who live with us for a year, but also to the board and supporters of Lagom Landing.

It's challenging to live differently in this 24-7, fast-paced, technologically driven world of ours. How do we live faithfully pursuing what gives us life?

The land and the quiet, the birds and the trees have already served as such a gift for us.

But some encounters over the weekend also remind me of other places that offer me life, and of remarkable people who model good living.

Wyoming, NY is a unique place. It carries a sense of the old ways with it, even though it is not immune to the problems facing so many rural U.S. communities. I loved being able to nurture relationships with the grocery store owners who've run the store for over fifty years. A lot goes on in that store's back room. Delicious Apple Sausage (and now blueberry, apple-pumpkin, elderberry, chorizo, italian and even pineapple varieties too) is shot into casings. Inventory is unloaded, usually by volunteers who offer their labor with love. Cans are recycled. Signs and equipment are stored. Coffee, a great piece of toast, and friendly conversation and hospitality are freely offered to anyone needing company. Even though the store has not been able to keep up with competition from larger stores in nearby towns, and now barely ekes out an existence by selling that specialty sausage and other fresh meat, some dairy products, and beer and cigarettes, it continues (as it has for who knows how many years) to serve as the communication center of the village. Anything shared there can and will travel within minutes to all corners of the community.

Those who are no longer able to do what they used to do sometimes wander to this back room for conversation, for connection. A good friend who died last Wednesday hung out there a lot in the last year as he recovered from a bad hip injury, as well as cancer treatments.

On Friday, Rock and I attended his calling hours, which, following a long-standing family tradition, were held in his daughter and son-in-law's home. Calling hours in a family's home are completely different from calling hours in a funeral home. Friends and family cleaned out gardens, scrubbed the house clean, and rearranged the furniture so there would be a good channel for people to flow through. People lined up from the front door all the way back to the sidewalk, and filed into a dining room and family room where the person who died shared countless meals, played poker and euchre, opened presents, held babies, and argued and debated year after year. Offering condolences to family in the place where they spent time with the deceased feels miles different than doing so in a sterile commercial funeral home.

At the end of the family room, our friend was laid out in a simple pine coffin with rough rope handles, which was (as per his strict, and quite vocal request) constructed lovingly by his son in law.

Around the corner, in the kitchen, friends gently asked mourners if they would like a cup of coffee or some water. The table was spread with the best-baked goods in three counties, juicy bite-sized fruit, and hot dishes of comfort food made by friends and family and even local businesses that cherished our friend and reached out to his family.

All this reflects a deep-seeded theme of our friend's life—pure joy in the simple things of family, hard work with one's hands, and the pleasure of friendship. A trust in the old values and in keeping things simple.

As I sat eating home-made mac&cheese on the sun porch at those calling hours on Friday, I distinctly felt the spirit of Christ shining throughout the home filled with everyone our friend loved and laughed with. Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote that
“Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.” (sic)

I saw Christ in the face of our friend, and also how Christ's love has filtered down to his family and friends through 77 years of loving investment.

It made me want to live well.

It added enjoyment to my running a half-marathon a day later. To seeing "Love, Janis" performed at Rochester's Downstairs Cabaret Theatre and reflecting on the passion flowing through Janis Joplin's veins.

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose" (those weren't Janis' words, but Kris Kristofferson, but they sure have irony as I reflect on her life).

We all have freedom to choose life or choose death, and our choices certainly accumulate.

It's been a major transition for me to leave full time work, and to still feel like I'm contributing to the world. It's also tough not to waste the day on the internet, catching up with friends, sortof, but, more accurately, procrastinating.

Running, as well as weekly attendance at the Mercy Prayer Center for 30 weeks of learning from St. Ignatius Prayer Exercises, have been two touchstones centering me throughout this transition. I'm grateful for the gift of prayer in my life, and for running over quiet roads as they've blossomed into springtime.

Finally, I'm grateful for the gift of having lived six years in a community filled with many who aspire to fill their days with that which brings them life.

Thank you, Wyoming.

Prayer Update, #2

Lägom Landing
Prayer Update, #2
April 18, 2010

The skis have been stored away in the shed. We have said goodbye to a wild wonder-filled winter. A new season is upon us. Spiring is bustin' out all over.
Forsythia speak to us in golden glory. The fragile spring blossoms say change is in the air. Biking the beautiful country roads, all the senses are engaged--the fresh smells of spring, buds on trees waiting to pop, birds singing expectantly. All witness to me of life that cannot be contained. Resurrection energy is at work and play in all of creation.
Laurel and I sense this power working within us. The Spirit is gently leading us to let go of the old and safe and open up to something wild and new. It is a time of getting ready, of preparing heart and body and spirit for a brand new thing.
Part of this process for Laurel is running. Clarity, connection, and life flow in as she runs. She has signed up to run the New York City Marathon in November, and will train with the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation benefit team. She has a new comprehension of Paul's words to the Philippians: “Forgetting what is behind and straining towards what lies ahead, I press on toward the finish line of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”
As we “press on” together in launching Lägom Landing, we ask for your prayerful support in this time of getting ready. With strain comes new strength and freedom. Pray for the willingness to be stretched, to seek a power greater than ourselves, to be formed into healthy channels of the BIG Place to a planet in desperate need.
We seek wisdom as a board is formed for Lägom Landing. We ask for prayer that the Spirit would guide this process, that those who would say yes would respond out of a creative call. And as we continue the application process for nonprofit incorporation, we need to be patient.
It's hard to put it any better than The Hothouse Flowers in their song “One Tongue” (we encourage downloading it!):

Give us the strength to look straight at you.
Let doubt be the furthest from our minds...
That we can be here, and know that we should be here,
and we can see the light inside.
As it gets more complicated,
simplicity must arise,
so we can follow in this feeling, and we can keep this song alive. . .
Yes, there are many many questions.
Yes, there is red tape all around.
The simple truth can cut through anything . . .
Talking “one tongue.”

We experience that “simple truth” in the beauty of this place. Pruning back overgrown shrubs and trees is a therapeutic way of “cutting through” the complications of red tape. Starting seedlings, clearing land, planting the gardens, brings hope in a tangible way.
We know there is much to do, but we have faith in the Risen One, who brings forth the springtime and who empowers us in this adventure. We are grateful for uplifting visits from friends and invite you to come and see this good place for yourself!

In the one tongue singing, “Christ is risen”, we send love to all,

Rock and Laurel