goodbye 2011

"Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything,
That's how the light gets in."
-Leonard Cohen

This morning I'm thinking of all the updates received from friends and families over the last few weeks.  New babies, growing children, adjustments to life without a loved one, moves, new jobs, retirement, grandparenting.  The full gamut of life, full of cracks, always changing.

I'm thinking of this home where I spend early mornings lately by the tree, reading, reflecting, praying.  Lighting Advent candles, and now Christmas candles.  How grateful I am to have a quiet, warm place to reflect and write and read.  Rock and I often read to one another something that stood out particularly in our morning reading.  It's worship, I guess.

I remember other new year's eves.  Having friends over to the manse in the village of Wyoming.  Ringing the church bells at midnight.  Further back, I remember watching movies we weren't supposed to watch while my parents were out celebrating the new year.  Banging pots and pans and screaming, "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" through our porch screen to all our Lincoln Street neighbors.    Somewhere in the middle--making my way through a snowy labyrinth lit by candles at Holden Village in Washington state, and burning the year's regrets in a bonfire.

Rock and I never really know what we're going to do for new year's.  We may go into Rochester for dinner and a movie.  But what sounds more interesting to me this year is a walk in the woods and a bonfire.  It's strangely warm this year, like spring.  We can watch the flames grow and think about the way things keep changing.  The way love springs up out of nowhere, the way disease rears its ugly head unexpectedly, the cracks in everything.

Bennie might follow us into the woods.  He has a red and white collar around his neck these days with jingle bells on it.  C'mon ring those new year bells, Bennie!  It doesn't have to be a perfect celebration.  All of life is holy, cracks and all.  As Leonard says, that's how the light gets in.

Happy New Year, everyone!

It's a beautiful Advent, cold, clear evening here at Lagom Landing.  I took a walk behind the barn to the clearing where we had fires this summer, and watched the treetops silhouetted in the low light of the setting sun and rising moon.  Their skinny limbs, relieved of summer's leaves, clicked gently together in the breeze.  I held a tree limb, overcome with the peace of wild places.  The particular stillness that is always here in these woods, while we humans bustle around and shop and bake and overindulge during this Most Wonderful Time of the Year, hit me, yet again.  I heard the faint sound of cars driving on 390, and I thought about where I too often am instead of these woods, burning fossil fuels as I run from some important thing to another.  

I walked back to the house, my path lit by the moon.  The blue lights I had just attached to an extension cord glowed on our front porch.  I smelled the wood mulch I'd been spreading earlier this afternoon over slabs of cardboard.  We're sheet-mulching our yard, a technique used in permaculture, which I'm just learning about.  As I spread the mulch, I thought about how long it has taken to acquire the cardboard, to load up pickups full of wood mulch from a neighboring town dump, and to spread the mulch around at least one acre of land.  I thought about how long it will take for the yard surrounding our house to look welcoming and settled, as permaculture relies on the slow processes of nature.  I thought about Lagom Landing, and how these now more than two years have been.  I've had times of great anxiety that Rock and I don't have what it takes to start a nonprofit and host 10 students for a year--their meals, the program, the bills, the accidents, the conflicts, the liability, etc., as well as coordinate our service in the community and all that added complexity.  

But for the most part, Rock and I have received the slow, gentle message of one who is far greater than ourselves.   "Of course you are not enough," we are told; "None of my children are ever enough."  And we go back to trusting that a power is working in us and with us and despite us that will allow Lagom Landing to be what it is to be.

And so I think of Mary.  A child.  So frightened.  So overwhelmed.

But somehow, in her terror, saying, "Let it be with me according to your word."

Willingness is all we ask of our students.

At our better moments, it's all we ask of ourselves.

It's all we really need.

Peak of Fall

Our friend Marion has been coming weekly to reflect and write at Lagom Landing.  
This is what she wrote Tuesday.  

The are are "thin" places on earth

where the space 

between God and humans

is very small.

We call it Heaven on earth.

We say, for a moment, the veil is lifted.

Lagom Landing

is a "thin" place - a giving place.

We are given welcome here.

Even the asters and goldenrod know

and grow, to God's glory

giving out beauty.

Even the chickens know - all five of them--

clucking, quiet and content, 

walking in a group

following anyone who walks there,

giving their gifts of fresh eggs.

Even Bennie, the old golden retriever knows

and rests secure there, giving love, with kind eyes.

Even the vegetables in the garden know, and the flowers too,

growing bountifully,

giving.

Birds at the feeder, 

they know,

And gift us with bright color and music.

Best of all are the two 

who had a dream

a giving-dream

And began, with God

to make the giving-dream 

begin to come true.

Gathering around them

other dreamers,

other givers,

to complete a circle of dreamers, givers.

You come, too, to a giving place,

a place of rest

You too, can know

You too, can receive, and also give

yourself, to this "thin" place.

--Marion Maxson, October 11, 2011

We hope you pay attention to her invitation, and that you come and visit and rest.

I took these photos on the same day, a glorious, peak of the color, rejoicing day.

mystical bennie

view of house from west

view from basement, looking west

Late September woods, by Marion

Our eighty-something friend and mentor Marion has been coming to Lagom Landing off and on for retreat days.  


Here is a poem she wrote a few weeks ago.  We read part of it yesterday at the Potluck Band Benefit:


Late September Woods


Oh woods!
I have been so long without you.
I chose today
for us to find each other again.
A few red maples have begun to shed---
only a few.
September sun streams weakly, wearily
through limbs, waving me welcome.
Jewel weed, asters, goldenrod
bend in the wind 
along the path.


trees, you sing with the wind
there is no other voice.
no traffic, no lawn-mowers, no planes, no shouting-
Only a woodpecker or two.
They welcome me, too.


I find the clearing 
Rock, and Laurel, and others
have made, it seems,
just for me this very day.
I stretch out on a wooden bench
and look up at the sky.
The clouds mix and change,
misty, uncertain;
not shaping themselves
into objects I can recognize.
the trees seem to cradle me.


I sit beside the blackened fire-pit
imagining fires that have been here
and ones to come yet this fall.
Warming toes on crisp evenings.
I think of my own past bonfires
church camp when I was young
Campfires burning, with our children
sitting around, singing,
eating s'mores.
With the orange glow of the fire reflected on their young faces.


Oh woods!  
How I love you!  
God's gift!
Suddenly the golden retriever arrives 
coming down the path, 
checking on me,
to make sure I am all right.
He sits beside me a little while
looking at my face
with his warm brown eyes.
We talk a bit,
then he wanders off down the path
and I come back inside
to write 
so I'll remember this day
Oh woods!  
I'll be back!
God willing.

Young Adults and Work

Wow, we haven't updated this in ages.  Lots has gone on--a move into the house, Rose and Peach home for the summer, guests for retreats and visits, application for our 501(c)(3) filed, presentations and tables at summer festivals and at churches.

My thoughts today are on the number of young adults we've been talking to recently.  People who are full of creativity, passion, many of them struggling, but optimistic.  Over the weekend, while dining out after a presentation about Lagom Landing, Rock and I met Ruben (not his real name), a 23-year-old who spent one year at Nazareth College, and did some other college work in the area of Music Therapy.  He dropped out after a year or so, saying that it was hard to be motivated when he knew how tough it would be to get a job out of college, given the state's fiscal cutbacks in education, where music and art programs are often the first to go.

Ruben's face lit up when we asked him his dream "to start a hippy commune in CO!"  In a small world experience, he shared that he had lived in my hometown of Longmont, CO for a few months, and wants to go back.  Based on his dream, we talked about the growing need, on an environmental but also economic level, to share resources/come together with neighbors. For example, one family might be able to provide washer/dryer, while another could pitch in a lawnmower.  Another family might have garden tools and space for a garden.

Ruben's dream makes sense.  We continue to find a great amount of energy in the twenty-something generation to conserve and share.  Despite his day-to-day, paycheck-to-paycheck situation struggling to pay the rent on a restaurant server's salary, Ruben was optimistic, pleasant, and fun to talk to.

Which reminded us also of Dan (also not his real name), a Marine we met this summer who's recently gone off active duty after serving in Iraq, Afghanistan, and most recently, Japan.  Dan has been offered work as an armed agent for Brinks--a money-delivery service for banks and businesses.  He turned down the generous offer, saying he wants to do something his heart is behind.  He talked about the number of returned military personnel he knows who take a long time to figure out what they want to do after getting off active duty.  He wants to hold out and find something that he can be passionate about.  Having saved up a good deal of money from his time in the service, he struggles with substance abuse and laziness, and wants to contribute to society.  He just doesn't know how to do it.

Young adults get a bad rap.  It's far too easy to write them off as lazy or unmotivated.  Society's challenge is to figure out what lights their fire, and help them to light it.   I went on a farm tour recently, where western New York farmers were sharing about labor challenges.  One farm participates in the government's H2A program to bring in workers from Mexico to help with the harvest.  The other farm found the H2A program too cumbersome to meet its need for workers, and solved its labor shortage by hiring recently-arrived refugees.  Both farms spoke about how difficult it is to find competent and hard-working labor, particularly for the long days and grueling work of bringing in the harvest.

I do not argue one bit with this. We've seen a bit of their reality. Rock has a hard time finding young people who are willing to build with him.   He doesn't like having to monitor people all the time to make sure they're working, and won't hire anyone who he has to keep pestering to get to work.  However, we also have experienced young adults who, when they are actively engaged in the process of learning to build, will work extremely long hours in hard conditions, and enjoy the process.

A fundamental piece behind Lagom Landing is that many young people have an innate desire to work with their hands.  They often are not given the opportunity to do so, however, in our increasingly computer-based world.  We've seen young people who don't know how to use a screw gun, hammer a nail, or even do dishes.  However, when shown how to do so, something "clicks", and the person feels engaged and empowered.

Here are some photos from our retreat with the Central Presbyterian Geneseo youth group.  We were incredibly blessed by the willingness and hard work that each of the 9 participants brought to our four days together this August:

 

Here comes the sun . . .

Out bushwacking on my backcountry skis last week, I couldn't help but feel I was in the scene in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe where winter's icy grip on Narnia was loosening, overcome by the warmth and promise of a spring-out there somewhere! Streams were running full tilt and birds were singing. I found myself seduced by the kiss of March sunshine, stopping again and again just to let it shine upon my face--in no hurry to get anywhere.

Here comes the sun, little darlin'.

Here comes the sun.

It's been a long, long lonely winter.

It seems like years since it's been here.

Here comes the sun.

I feel the ice is slowly meltin'.

Here comes the sun.

Winter is a difficult season for many of us. Cold and dark can seep into spirit as easily as bone. I'm a bit of a palar bear, loving the beautiful, brutal fragility of winter, but even I find myself longing for spring this year.

Several friends seem to have been hit especially hard this winter. Many pastors and churches we know seem to be struggling with an unnamable helplessness.

In these battles, vision is hampered by the long, dark night. It is difficult to accept where we are. Often times we are tempted to look for elusive, complex cures for our dormant spirits.

Perhaps the lessons offered by the changing seasons are far more direct and literal than we can fathom. All of nature waits patiently through the false death of winter. The stark beauty of bare branches speaks of unimaginable patience. Trees bear no fruit or leaves or green beauty for months.

Eugene Peterson's The Message, Romans 8:

"Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready . . . meanwhile the joyful anticipation deepens. The waiting does not diminish us anymore than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting."

Can we wait? Can we put our own ability to bear fruit, to impact our world, to make a difference, into hibernation? How much of who we are is tied to producing? Can we let go of the burdens of psuedo-responsibility we all want to bear? The waiting is so hard, but guess what? (more of The Message)

"Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. The Spirit does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs--our aching groans. The Spirit knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good."

Maybe we don't need to be cured or fixed or made whole. Perhaps a step out into March sunshine might remind us all that spring be comin', that resurrection happens, that Christ is rising. All of this occurs with or without our striving.

In that light, we have this update: Lägom House is near completion! We plan on moving in this coming weekend. Next week, countertops donated by DuPont Corporation will be constructed by our dear friend and Board member, Blue Hannon. And that should complete construction!

In the brick work of our masonry heater, we have a stone inscribed with the word Lägom (which means "enough; just the right amount"). My son Jake and I stepped back to admire the heater. He put his arm around me and in the way only Jake can, said,

"Gee, Dad, if this is Lägom, I wouldn't want to see what too much looks like!"

Indeed, this place is "too much" for just Laurel and I. We invite you to "come and see" the place God has called us to build. The Moody Blues put it well in the song Watching and Waiting:

"Don't be alarmed by our fields and our forests; they're here for only you to share."

The doors will soon be open. There is some good medicine here for the early-spring doldrums. Join us in some "joyful anticipation."

Here comes the sun. Let's celebrate together!

Love,

Rock

P.S. We also invite you to check out our recently-launched website, and please pass on feedback! www.lagomlanding.org

website!

Check out www.lagomlanding.org

We finally have a website!

Almost time to move!

We've had some great and busy weeks! Spoke about the program at the Dansville Free Methodist Church yesterday.

Plans to attend the GCC Lima fair April 9, and speak at Dansville Presbyterian in May. It's always great to hear people's thoughts on the program, and to get to know more people in the community.

We would like to start gathering groups of juniors and seniors in high school for some focus groups, asking what they would particularly be interested in for a gap year.

Our website should be up by early next week--I'll post something here when it is. Also, a revamped brochure is being professionally designed and will be printed soon.

Within two weeks, we hope to move into the new place! Have been researching permaculture opportunities for landscaping on the muddy reality surrounding the house.

Thank you all for your prayers and support! Here are a few pics, and we'll post more and a new update soon!

Blessings and gratitude,

Rock and Laurel

"Making Room" - Winter Update on Build

Warm Greetings this Cold January, from Lägom Landing!

Our little blue double-wide has been full to overflowing with various “human beans” since well before Christmas. The girls (Peach and Rose) have been home from college, and our nephew Owen has been living with us. Son Jake has crashed here after working late on the house. At times we’ve had up to seven people spending the night in this tight space, plus we’ve been providing lunch for 4-8 workers every day.

In the midst of this “crowding”, I’ve been thinking a lot about “making room”. Thoughts have been bouncing around in my head since Christmas. Ironically, with the mad rush of building, I haven’t “made room” to get the thoughts out to ya’ll. Perhaps one needs to fall in the trap he or she intends to reflect on before being qualified to write down those reflections!

As Christmas approached, I was really in touch with the Innkeeper who turned away Mary and Joseph. How could we find a place for our nephew in need, with the girls coming home in this tiny house? The right to my space is part of my American consciousness.

Winter mornings , as the “beans” lay sleeping, the illusions of this thinking began to unravel as I looked into the BIG LOVE of God found in Christ.

In a world that found little room for him (even in his birth!), he was always making space. For an outcast woman at a well, for an unclean woman bleeding for years, for a Roman soldier whose little boy was dying, for Zacchaeus, the tax collector, lowest of the low, disdained by all.

In the gospels we see Jesus in the midst of his hectic day dropping everything to care for us vulnerable creatures.

Jesus is the clearest picture of God that we have, and what I find in him is room. I love Eugene Peterson’s interpretation of Colossians 1 in The Message: “So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding.” Christ’s life reflected this truth. I find when I am out of touch with the loving space offered to me, the “I don’t have time, I don’t have the room” lies begin to assert themselves.

The Message again, from Romans 5: “We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that He has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.”

In the midst of this build and the little crowded house, I’ve experienced that spacious love walking across the field seeing the fragile beauty of snow-frosted branches. I’ve found it in Owen’s unique perspective on life that he brings to our house. Rose’s creative energy and deep wisdom in caring for others. Peach’s willingness to try new adventures and meet new people. Jake’s strength and enthusiasm for life and boundless energy. That which I thought might crowd me, has expanded me.

So my questions to you this month are who or what do you need to make space for? How can you experience those “open spaces”, that “roominess”? For each of us the picture will look different. For some it might be time to say no to people to create healthy room for ourselves. Have we taken time to walk out into winter’s wonder? Perhaps it is time to “open our doors” to a friend or relative who has hurt us in the past? There is plenty of room for us to explore.

We are in the process of building room for up to 12 or so people. The creative and crafty juices are a-flowin’, and it is Good. Plumbing, heat, and electric are completed. The house has been drywalled, taped, and painted. Hardwood flooring and tile have been installed. We have a beautiful Red Birch kitchen built and installed by an incredibly talented crew of local Mennonites. With all of their technology used in the design process, I took to calling them the “Modernites”. After they left last week, we found a hand-printed sign on a piece of birch plywood in front of the house:

“Kitchens by the Modern Knights. Call 1-800-Holy Spirit”

Laurel and I laughed so hard.

We are now staining and painting trim, the doors are being hung and we’re pretty much on schedule for a mid to late February move-in date!

Programmatically speaking, we are presenting to more groups and churches, and also receiving our first donations, after receiving incorporation from NY State in early November.* Our Board has met three times, and we are grateful for their great guidance and support. Formally-printed brochures should be ready soon, and a website up as well.

Thank you for making room for reading this today, and for your prayers, support, and love!

Peace and love and awareness to all,

Rock

*We are grateful for everyone’s support given in many different forms. If you’d like to send a check (realizing, unfortunately, that your donation will not be tax-deductible until we receive our 501(c)(3) status), you can make checks out to Lagom Landing, and send to

7966 Reeds Corners Rd.

Dansville, NY 14437.