The previous owners of our house in coastal Mississippi planted a satsuma tree at the southeast corner. I had no idea what it was until we noted one small orange fruit the first fall. Since I love oranges, I went to the local nursery to find out all I could about my satsuma tree so I could have more fruit the next autumn. Satsumas grow best in tropical to subtropical climates, and need protection when the temperature drops below 20 dgs F. The ground around the tree needs to be kept moist, and the pH of the soil must stay on the acidic side. A sandy, well drained plot is a must. A satsuma craves sunlight so a southern or southeastern exposure, like our tree had, is best.
After a year of tender loving care, indeed the tree yielded much fruit. I looked forward to another harvest the next fall but the Air Force transferred us to South Dakota. As much as I would have loved to tie my tree to the top of my car and take it with me, I knew that satsumas did not grow in the upper midwest. For one thing, temperatures of 20 degrees or less are common at least eight months of the year. The soil is very alkaline and difficult to make acidic. In this drought prone climate, it makes little sense to use precious water to keep a satsuma wet enough to grow. If a gardener did keep it watered sufficiently, the clay soil would not allow the water to distribute evenly. The roots would rot away.
A plant cannot flourish in all places. Had I taken the satsuma tree from my yard in Mississippi and planted it in my upper midwest yard, it would have died. People also do not flourish everywhere. I never pass on the maxim, “Bloom where you are planted,” as I do not believe it. As a satsuma tree cannot grow and bear fruit where I live, neither can I. Several of my acquaintances also have discovered that their souls are starving in the inhospitable soil and plan to move away. In another post I mentioned the historical preservationist I just met, who plans to leave for the same place Taciturn and I are going. Others are leaving here also.
On Sunday at Safeway, I ran into my friends M and B. During the conversation I mentioned that I was moving. “We are, too!” was the reply. No surprise. Partnered gay men, I was amazed that they had lasted in this area as long as they have. They were here many years, trying and trying to flourish not only in their careers but also as people. M and B threw in the towel and are headed for friendlier climes. The mindset here is decidedly harsh to LGBT persons. M said they no longer trade with many local businesses as they have been so badly treated.
Little exists to hold those of us who are not native to the area. Yes, the scenery is beautiful and hiking is great. A person cannot hike all of the time; real life intrudes. Real life here is based on a one for self vs. a one for all mentality. My subdivision was drawn up to have the front doors as far away from the next house as possible, in order to not be bothered by interacting with one’s neighbor. And not from South Dakota? God help you. An incident that happened soon after I moved here in 2002 illustrates.
Eagerly I attended my first EfM (Education for Ministry) meeting at my new parish. The mentor passed around a roster for us to fill out. The much older woman seated next to me, whom I had never met, handed it to me.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said.
“What did you call me?” Her voice was icy.
“Ma’am?”
“I do not accept being called ma’am,” she said.
Stunned, I said, “I’m sorry, but I just moved here from Mississippi, and down there ma’am is a mark of respect.”
“Well, I’ve always lived in South Dakota—and nobody calls me ma’am.”
Another, more appropriate term was on the tip of my tongue, but I managed to choke it back.
She went on, “You people from the East think you can just come here and push all of your customs on us. I’ll have none of that.”
I signed the roster and passed it on. I had nothing much else to say to this woman over the year in EfM, or now when I run into her around town. Over the years, unfortunately I have met others who share her sentiments. If you are not from here, then why are you here? For years many locals hated the military base because it brought outside influence to the area. In 2004, the government obliged and made plans to close it. Yes, the outside influence would disappear—but so would ten percent of all the jobs in town, and immediately property values plummeted. Suddenly the complaints stopped and most mobilized to petition the government to keep the base and the jobs. It worked; the base stayed open. But the underlying rejection of “Easterners” remains.
Plants as well as people need receptive soil in which to grow. The soil found here is hostile to those who are newly planted. I am not sure what it takes to grow here as a transplant, but each day I am here my soul shrivels a bit more. This is a hard place to bloom where planted, and since there are many other, more welcoming places to grow, why here in this harsh place? Of course people leave by the droves. We will join them soon, headed to well drained and productive soil. We will set down our roots and begin to grow again.
Showing posts with label EFM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label EFM. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here
It felt like that at St. A's this morning!
The retired rector from our former parish was the celebrant this morning, as KML was out of town. Both Taciturn and I have always thought he was/is amazing, so we were happy just for that reason. Then T realized that he worked with one of the deacons in the military many years ago, so they spent a good bit of time catching up after the service. The church secretary at St. A's was in my EFM class several years ago, as was the other deacon.
Old home day, for sure. It recalled happy times for both of us. I felt like I was in a wonderful time warp!
The retired rector from our former parish was the celebrant this morning, as KML was out of town. Both Taciturn and I have always thought he was/is amazing, so we were happy just for that reason. Then T realized that he worked with one of the deacons in the military many years ago, so they spent a good bit of time catching up after the service. The church secretary at St. A's was in my EFM class several years ago, as was the other deacon.
Old home day, for sure. It recalled happy times for both of us. I felt like I was in a wonderful time warp!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Visit to St. A's
In response to Kirkepiscatoid's comment from yesterday, I'll tell you about my visit to St. A's sooner rather than later.
In a couple of words, very nice. I knew it would be.
Where I live, there are three Episcopal churches. Each is in a discrete area of the city, each serves a discrete population although certainly all are welcome at any of them. The church that we are in the process of leaving is the original Episcopal church in the area, jokingly called the "Mother Church." The lovely building, originally constructed in 1887, is Dakota sandstone and is on the National Register of Historic Places. It historically has been the stereotypical "frozen chosen" church of the monied conservatives as well as those whose families went back in the church to the time of Dakota homesteading (which is an indication of prominence around here). When we first moved to the area in 2002, it had a very dynamic, highly educated rector with whom both T and I immediately felt a personal connection. The church was in the process of revamping the children's education program which turned out to be very successful (until the event mentioned below), it provided the space for the area's EfM program, provided a regular service of Holy Eucharist to a local retirement home, and other things. But, the rector wanted to make more changes and thus developed a tension between the monied and homesteader folks who saw the church as a "country club" (which I wrote in a letter to a priest associate in 2003) and newer members who were more progressive. Also, the rector developed some complications in his personal life which his enemies (those who are change agents always have enemies) jumped upon, which ultimately led to his forced early retirement in 2006. This in my opinion irrevocably damaged this church--the rector had planned to retire anyway in 2007, but the way it was done was the issue. Many of the newer, more progressive folks left (either TEC entirely or for St. A's), and the few that were and are left find it difficult to revive the lassitude found there now.
St A's, on the west side of town (12 minutes from my house up the canyon) is a 50 year old parish that was a church plant from the mother church. It has a more contemporary building and a more progressive spirit (God is NEVER addressed as "he" in the liturgy). There are more younger people there. It is a smaller congregation than the mother church. The current rector has been there only four years, and is an amazing lady. That church has lots of can do spirit and energy at present. (And you will find it a fairly LGBT friendly congregation, as friendly as one can be around here.) My acquaintance Robbinsdale Radical is an active member, whom I first met when he and his family were at the Mother Church.
St. M's is on the east side of town whose membership is predominately Lakota Sioux. If my memory serves me correctly, that mission was founded ~ 60 years ago so that the monied folks at the "Mother Church" would not be troubled by Indians in their midst--i.e., as a result of racism. I've been to meetings there and other events; the hospitality there is second to none. The vicar is an amazing person who works hard for the indigenous people in TEC. His calling is to serve the people at St M's however he can and I doubt he will ever leave except to retire. As I have more than a few drops of indigenous blood in me, I thought to visit there as I greatly admire the vicar, but there is no 8 am service and a very long drive.
The three churches collaborate on VBS, deanery meetings, EfM, Lenten services, Quiet Days, and whatever else is special. So we all have met the active people in each congregation. And for that reason, Taciturn and I pretty much knew what we were getting when we visited St. A's yesterday.
Friendly people, Rite II spoken liturgy (we are 8 o'clockers and usually get Rite I), three women on the altar--the LEM, the deacon, and the rector--a challenging sermon, and the baptismal font front and center. One has to walk by it to approach the altar for communion. There is a lovely garden with a cascading fountain in the back and both services next week will be there. Unfortunately, I have to work next weekend but T is looking forward to going.
The fact that T wants to attend a new church by himself is telling!
On the way out we spoke to the other deacon, who was one of my EfM mentors. She was happy--and shocked--to see me there. We walked arm in arm for a minute as I casually told her I'd visit with her another time. Again, the entire story is for a select three, and I'm developing the Cliff Notes version for everyone else. When that is developed, I'll post it.
Meanwhile, I have meetings today!
In a couple of words, very nice. I knew it would be.
Where I live, there are three Episcopal churches. Each is in a discrete area of the city, each serves a discrete population although certainly all are welcome at any of them. The church that we are in the process of leaving is the original Episcopal church in the area, jokingly called the "Mother Church." The lovely building, originally constructed in 1887, is Dakota sandstone and is on the National Register of Historic Places. It historically has been the stereotypical "frozen chosen" church of the monied conservatives as well as those whose families went back in the church to the time of Dakota homesteading (which is an indication of prominence around here). When we first moved to the area in 2002, it had a very dynamic, highly educated rector with whom both T and I immediately felt a personal connection. The church was in the process of revamping the children's education program which turned out to be very successful (until the event mentioned below), it provided the space for the area's EfM program, provided a regular service of Holy Eucharist to a local retirement home, and other things. But, the rector wanted to make more changes and thus developed a tension between the monied and homesteader folks who saw the church as a "country club" (which I wrote in a letter to a priest associate in 2003) and newer members who were more progressive. Also, the rector developed some complications in his personal life which his enemies (those who are change agents always have enemies) jumped upon, which ultimately led to his forced early retirement in 2006. This in my opinion irrevocably damaged this church--the rector had planned to retire anyway in 2007, but the way it was done was the issue. Many of the newer, more progressive folks left (either TEC entirely or for St. A's), and the few that were and are left find it difficult to revive the lassitude found there now.
St A's, on the west side of town (12 minutes from my house up the canyon) is a 50 year old parish that was a church plant from the mother church. It has a more contemporary building and a more progressive spirit (God is NEVER addressed as "he" in the liturgy). There are more younger people there. It is a smaller congregation than the mother church. The current rector has been there only four years, and is an amazing lady. That church has lots of can do spirit and energy at present. (And you will find it a fairly LGBT friendly congregation, as friendly as one can be around here.) My acquaintance Robbinsdale Radical is an active member, whom I first met when he and his family were at the Mother Church.
St. M's is on the east side of town whose membership is predominately Lakota Sioux. If my memory serves me correctly, that mission was founded ~ 60 years ago so that the monied folks at the "Mother Church" would not be troubled by Indians in their midst--i.e., as a result of racism. I've been to meetings there and other events; the hospitality there is second to none. The vicar is an amazing person who works hard for the indigenous people in TEC. His calling is to serve the people at St M's however he can and I doubt he will ever leave except to retire. As I have more than a few drops of indigenous blood in me, I thought to visit there as I greatly admire the vicar, but there is no 8 am service and a very long drive.
The three churches collaborate on VBS, deanery meetings, EfM, Lenten services, Quiet Days, and whatever else is special. So we all have met the active people in each congregation. And for that reason, Taciturn and I pretty much knew what we were getting when we visited St. A's yesterday.
Friendly people, Rite II spoken liturgy (we are 8 o'clockers and usually get Rite I), three women on the altar--the LEM, the deacon, and the rector--a challenging sermon, and the baptismal font front and center. One has to walk by it to approach the altar for communion. There is a lovely garden with a cascading fountain in the back and both services next week will be there. Unfortunately, I have to work next weekend but T is looking forward to going.
The fact that T wants to attend a new church by himself is telling!
On the way out we spoke to the other deacon, who was one of my EfM mentors. She was happy--and shocked--to see me there. We walked arm in arm for a minute as I casually told her I'd visit with her another time. Again, the entire story is for a select three, and I'm developing the Cliff Notes version for everyone else. When that is developed, I'll post it.
Meanwhile, I have meetings today!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
First EfM meeting
As a co-mentor was last night. It was mostly housekeeping. Since I've been gone for two years, and it is a mixed group (from different parishes), I know ONE student. But that is ok. Moving as much as I've done has helped me walk into a room cold and mix it up with different people. (I'm just barely an E on the Myers-Briggs.) Besides, I'll get to know them all pretty well in the coming weeks and months. (Five years ago, for example, I met a woman who has become one of my very best friends in EfM.)
One of the best things about last night was the kick off Eucharist. The rector of St. A's in Rapid, Kathy, designed the Eucharist around the theme of call--the readings all dealt with the idea of call, for example, and she used parts of the service for Holy Baptism instead of the normal Rite II. She asked us to consider how what we have learned in EfM so far has helped us live into the idea that all baptized believers are called to ministry. A few people discussed what that meant to them in their jobs, how it made them more compassionate in their daily lives, and how they have internalized the idea that we are all ministers instead of just giving it intellectual assent. THEN we fed each other the Body and Blood of Christ around the baptismal font and dipped our hands into the baptismal waters at the final blessing. We left much more aware of the gravity of call.
Very powerful.
I think Kathy brought home the idea that to be in EfM means that we-I-have been called in some way to that. EfM, whether student or mentor, is a huge commitment and to live into that commitment fully one must feel called by God to a deeper way to do one's ministry.
The other (much more experienced) mentor, Marty, also discussed that since the EfM classroom is a safe place, that means that it is not a place to debate each other; listen, yes, clarify, of course, but debate, no. The autobiographies we all do in the first few weeks are great ways to know the framework from which the others in the class approach Holy Scripture and other material. When one knows someone personally, one is much less likely to attack that person in an ad hominem way.
I think if we all took the time to know why someone might hold the position one does, much of our yelling and screaming at each other would lessen. Sure, I can disagree with another's viewpoint, but that doesn't mean I can demean the person for having that viewpoint.
Change of subject: We are discussing a couple of chapters of John Claypool's book Stories Jesus Still Tells: The Parables today in Bible study. I've read that book before and look forward to viewing its contents through a different lens. I've got to go read the rest of today's assigned reading!
One of the best things about last night was the kick off Eucharist. The rector of St. A's in Rapid, Kathy, designed the Eucharist around the theme of call--the readings all dealt with the idea of call, for example, and she used parts of the service for Holy Baptism instead of the normal Rite II. She asked us to consider how what we have learned in EfM so far has helped us live into the idea that all baptized believers are called to ministry. A few people discussed what that meant to them in their jobs, how it made them more compassionate in their daily lives, and how they have internalized the idea that we are all ministers instead of just giving it intellectual assent. THEN we fed each other the Body and Blood of Christ around the baptismal font and dipped our hands into the baptismal waters at the final blessing. We left much more aware of the gravity of call.
Very powerful.
I think Kathy brought home the idea that to be in EfM means that we-I-have been called in some way to that. EfM, whether student or mentor, is a huge commitment and to live into that commitment fully one must feel called by God to a deeper way to do one's ministry.
The other (much more experienced) mentor, Marty, also discussed that since the EfM classroom is a safe place, that means that it is not a place to debate each other; listen, yes, clarify, of course, but debate, no. The autobiographies we all do in the first few weeks are great ways to know the framework from which the others in the class approach Holy Scripture and other material. When one knows someone personally, one is much less likely to attack that person in an ad hominem way.
I think if we all took the time to know why someone might hold the position one does, much of our yelling and screaming at each other would lessen. Sure, I can disagree with another's viewpoint, but that doesn't mean I can demean the person for having that viewpoint.
Change of subject: We are discussing a couple of chapters of John Claypool's book Stories Jesus Still Tells: The Parables today in Bible study. I've read that book before and look forward to viewing its contents through a different lens. I've got to go read the rest of today's assigned reading!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Catching up
I returned 2 days ago from Cody WY where I completed EfM Mentor training at Thomas the Apostle retreat center. Taciturn and I drove 400 miles to get there and immediately I started the training, which probably was a mistake, as I was very tired. But, it turned out to be a great exercise and fun, and I met some amazing people. The drive there was awesome. We took I-90 into the Bighorns and saw some great views.
Unfortunately, my camera was packed so I don't have photos. Grumble.
Cody is set in Yellowstone country, in the foothills of the Rockies. It really is beautiful. Had I realized how wonderful it was, I would have urged T to go a day earlier as I did not get to do a bit of tourist stuff! Here is a photo of most of the people in my mentor training group (the lone man had to leave post-haste); one can see the mountains in the background as well as some horses.
Besides the mentor training and meeting the wonderful people I did, the noon outdoor Eucharist on Friday was very moving. The presider said in her brief homily that we want to make Christianity "nice". We tiptoe around each other and issues in that attempt, instead of acknowledging that it has lots of rough edges. She quoted Tina Turner--that Christianity is rough. Life is messy, but there is hope. She said it in such a way that I started to weep, and wept through the celebration.
On the way back, we stopped at the Comfort Inn in Buffalo WY. As we pulled up, there were two police cars in front with lights flashing. The police were handcuffing a young man, and preparing to tow his motorcycle! And in front of the motel, there were 8 motorcycles. T turned to me, worried, and asked about the cancellation policy of this place. Alas, we were 20 minutes past the time we could cancel.
All was well, though. In the lobby were the motorcyclists--all middle aged businessmen types who were from Rapid City as we are. I also had a wonderful conversation with a 60-ish couple who sold their house in upstate NY and moved to Buffalo--they had arrived that day. (They had lived midway between my friend in Cooperstown and my friend in Buffalo, NY.) So that was an opportunity. Dinner was really great; we went to a local steakhouse called the Winchester whose service rivaled any restaurant I've ever been to and whose food was very good. We are not huge red meat eaters, but I do have some on occasion as I get anemic if I do not, so I had prime rib, as did T. His was as tender a cut of meat as he ever has had. Mine wasn't, but it was tasty.
So, if ever you go through WY on I-90, try to stop at the Winchester in Buffalo. Yummy!
My friend L invited me to a meeting of Altrusa yesterday. I was impressed by the service projects they do, and the humility of the women I met. I may join!
Today I get the oil changed in my car, and go to the base doctor to get a referral to a neurologist, to get at the bottom of my issues. We'll see how that goes!
Unfortunately, my camera was packed so I don't have photos. Grumble.
Cody is set in Yellowstone country, in the foothills of the Rockies. It really is beautiful. Had I realized how wonderful it was, I would have urged T to go a day earlier as I did not get to do a bit of tourist stuff! Here is a photo of most of the people in my mentor training group (the lone man had to leave post-haste); one can see the mountains in the background as well as some horses.
Besides the mentor training and meeting the wonderful people I did, the noon outdoor Eucharist on Friday was very moving. The presider said in her brief homily that we want to make Christianity "nice". We tiptoe around each other and issues in that attempt, instead of acknowledging that it has lots of rough edges. She quoted Tina Turner--that Christianity is rough. Life is messy, but there is hope. She said it in such a way that I started to weep, and wept through the celebration.
On the way back, we stopped at the Comfort Inn in Buffalo WY. As we pulled up, there were two police cars in front with lights flashing. The police were handcuffing a young man, and preparing to tow his motorcycle! And in front of the motel, there were 8 motorcycles. T turned to me, worried, and asked about the cancellation policy of this place. Alas, we were 20 minutes past the time we could cancel.
All was well, though. In the lobby were the motorcyclists--all middle aged businessmen types who were from Rapid City as we are. I also had a wonderful conversation with a 60-ish couple who sold their house in upstate NY and moved to Buffalo--they had arrived that day. (They had lived midway between my friend in Cooperstown and my friend in Buffalo, NY.) So that was an opportunity. Dinner was really great; we went to a local steakhouse called the Winchester whose service rivaled any restaurant I've ever been to and whose food was very good. We are not huge red meat eaters, but I do have some on occasion as I get anemic if I do not, so I had prime rib, as did T. His was as tender a cut of meat as he ever has had. Mine wasn't, but it was tasty.
So, if ever you go through WY on I-90, try to stop at the Winchester in Buffalo. Yummy!
My friend L invited me to a meeting of Altrusa yesterday. I was impressed by the service projects they do, and the humility of the women I met. I may join!
Today I get the oil changed in my car, and go to the base doctor to get a referral to a neurologist, to get at the bottom of my issues. We'll see how that goes!
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Moving, EFM, and moved
We are finally in our house! Cause for celebration!
But with the celebration comes unpacking. We have made huge strides on our 250 boxes since Monday. We even have hung a few photos.
The hardest part paradoxically comes with having lived in this house before. We have had some mildly heated discussions over where this picture, this piece of pottery, etc was the last time. And I'm having a devil of a time with the kitchen--"Now where did I used to keep this?"
We found in office boxes some photos of the house I took right before I moved out (Taciturn was in Korea then) in June 2005. That has helped immensely, plus solved some of the "But it was here! I remember!" debates we've had.
Of course, when we get our new furniture we will have an entirely new framework in which to work, but for now it is just easier to do it as before.
Small world moment: the crew that moved us in was the same crew that moved us into this house the first time, in 2002. We were fortunate in that we had liked this crew before, so it was good to see them. They even remembered the house layout!
Tomorrow I am meeting the deacon who mentors EFM in this area. In fact, she was one of the co-mentors when I took EFM. The other co-mentor retired last year after mentoring since the program's inception (he said he was called to do it, and he was amazing); I have been invited to take his place. I am so NOT worthy, but EFM changed my life so this is a chance to give back. I have felt the tug of the Holy Spirit to mentor, thus it was an affirmation to be invited. Anyway, we are getting together to discuss what is happening this year. I am headed for mentor training later this month in WY.
Two of the blogs I read fairly regularly recently have moved me deeply. They have discussed responsibility in marriage and how to handle marital crises. What these women have discussed has kind of piggybacked onto something on which I wanted to write a reflection anyway, and a movie T and I watched last night dovetailed further into the subject. I started to just write a post but I think this will need a bit of off line work. So, you'll see it later.
But with the celebration comes unpacking. We have made huge strides on our 250 boxes since Monday. We even have hung a few photos.
The hardest part paradoxically comes with having lived in this house before. We have had some mildly heated discussions over where this picture, this piece of pottery, etc was the last time. And I'm having a devil of a time with the kitchen--"Now where did I used to keep this?"
We found in office boxes some photos of the house I took right before I moved out (Taciturn was in Korea then) in June 2005. That has helped immensely, plus solved some of the "But it was here! I remember!" debates we've had.
Of course, when we get our new furniture we will have an entirely new framework in which to work, but for now it is just easier to do it as before.
Small world moment: the crew that moved us in was the same crew that moved us into this house the first time, in 2002. We were fortunate in that we had liked this crew before, so it was good to see them. They even remembered the house layout!
Tomorrow I am meeting the deacon who mentors EFM in this area. In fact, she was one of the co-mentors when I took EFM. The other co-mentor retired last year after mentoring since the program's inception (he said he was called to do it, and he was amazing); I have been invited to take his place. I am so NOT worthy, but EFM changed my life so this is a chance to give back. I have felt the tug of the Holy Spirit to mentor, thus it was an affirmation to be invited. Anyway, we are getting together to discuss what is happening this year. I am headed for mentor training later this month in WY.
Two of the blogs I read fairly regularly recently have moved me deeply. They have discussed responsibility in marriage and how to handle marital crises. What these women have discussed has kind of piggybacked onto something on which I wanted to write a reflection anyway, and a movie T and I watched last night dovetailed further into the subject. I started to just write a post but I think this will need a bit of off line work. So, you'll see it later.
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