Hopefully this finds my readers well! I leave the Village on the next boat - on Wednesday, I'll catch the boat and the bus to get to Wenatchee and board the train bound for Minnesota. It's scary how fast it's coming. I think I'm ready. I hope so.
I've been invited to lead Vespers tonight, so I wrote a little reflection on my year here, sharing stories and thanking the community for all they've given me. I thought I'd post it here!
How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity! It is like the precious oil on the
head, running down upon the beard, on the
beard of Aaron, running down over the
collar of his robes. It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the
mountains of Zion. For there the Lord ordained his blessing, life
forevermore. - Psalm 133
“Hello! You’re Dean,
right? One of our new lead cooks! Welcome, welcome, welcome!” a woman
exclaimed, as she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. Here I was,
fresh off the cross-country train ride with greasy hair, my clothes smelled
awful, and I just felt plain gross. All I wanted was a hot shower, and to get
up to the Village and settle in. And yet, here I was, standing on the boat
dock, being hugged by a woman who I didn’t even know. Other people on the dock
greeted me as well, with hugs and welcomes and “you’re going to love it!”, or
other exclamations of assurance. I was hoping so.
The cross-country train
ride on the way in last May was filled with worry. I was worried I wasn’t going
to be good enough to do my job. I was worried about connecting with people,
making friends, and I was worried about not being affirmed or validated. I was homesick as the train blurred through
flat Montanan prairie, and couldn’t sleep as the sky fell black over northern
Idaho. I woke in the morning, took the bus to Wenatchee, and began the boat
ride up Lake Chelan with better resolve. This
year will be good, I kept repeating in my head. You’re out here to learn and grow, so go and get it.
Now, eleven and half
months later, as I look towards the end of my long term stay here in the
Village, I can say with conviction and joy that those anxieties were completely
unfounded and unnecessary. I have realized over the course of this year how
good and pleasant indeed it is when kindred live together in unity. Psalm 133,
today’s daily lectionary reading, speaks about living together in unity, and
when I read it, I knew I had to say something about it.
Over the course of this
year, I have learned the true definition of kindred spirit. I have become best
friends with my fellow colleagues in the kitchen, mavericks, contributions
coordinators, housekeepers, program team members, carpenters, and craft cave
coordinators. I have learned that in order to do something here, it literally “takes
a village”. I have learned how to connect with people on a more intentional
level. Sunday morning coffee at Chalet 5 and pancakes and morning worship will
be just a few of my favorite remembrances of this town. I’ve had good and
meaningful conversations over oatmeal and coffee, and have discussed Christian
Universalism and philosophy with Burnell while overlooking Martin’s Ridge. I’ve
hiked into Copper Basin on New Year’s Day and eaten lunch on a steep
mountainside and have praised God for each and every one of his blessings. I’ve
loved the support and prayers that we give each other in Vespers each evening,
and how we come together every Sunday to celebrate the Eucharist feast. In a
list of things that I love about this place, this is just the beginning.
Psalm 133 also expounds
on the concept of goodness in community and being united. This goodness, this
praise is something extraordinarily lavish - after all, it is “running down
upon the beard…of Aaron, running down over the collars of his robe.” Community
and friendship in community is something to be extoled and celebrated. I
believe we do extraordinarily well here at Holden, in both our rambunctious
summer parades and quiet winter nights. One of my favorite moments here in the
Village was in late November, after the mineworkers had just left, and the
Village was small and quiet. It was snowing, and we had finished a Eucharist
service. I was serving as head sacristan that evening and was bringing up the
leftover wine. Burnell came up to me and said, “What do you have there?”
“Wine”, I said.
“Are you gonna finish it
off all by yourself?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m
bringing it to a house gathering – unless you want some!”
Burnell
and I ended up finishing off the leftovers of the wine, calling it “Jesus Round
2”, as the snow continued to fall. He later told me that he’d “never
experienced communion like that before – that was really special.”, and he
laughed.
A
few weeks later, I went on an out with Colleen Foote, to take some time away,
as well as to take her to Wenatchee to get her wisdom teeth removed. We went in
to Chelan after we got off at Fields Point, went into town, both called our
parents and other beloved, got yellow and red bell peppers, penne noodles and
olive oil, went back to the B&B, and made pasta. It was quiet outside, and
I could tell Colleen was nervous about the upcoming surgery, but it was nice
just to be able to spend time with one of my best friends, even away from the
Village. The next day was surgery; I spent the time calling more family back
home. Afterwards, we drove back to Chelan to get her medicine, and I had no
idea of where to go. My knowledge of Washington is Holden Village and Chelan.
That’s it. She flailed her arms in the direction I was supposed to go before
falling back asleep. She was a real champ. She left to go back to the Village
the next day, while I stayed at the B&B a bit longer. I got back after Las
Posadas had ended, and she came up to me and said, “Thanks for taking care of
me. You’re the best.”, and it made me smile.
Looking
back on these and other winter village memories makes me realize just how close
our winter community was. A part of me misses those times, when the days were
slower and the conversations longer and the nights darker and the lamplight
glowed. However, God gives all seasons to have gladness of heart, so we move on
into summer.
I’ve noticed over the
past few weeks that there has been some tension in the air. People have gotten
frustrated, angry, worried, and concerned about what is going to happen to the
Village in the coming days, months, and years as we begin this transition into
the hands of the mining company and truly become a working town. I’m concerned
about this, too, and intrigued to see what indeed will happen. What a better
time than now, though, to examine who we are as community, what we stand for, and
how we can be most welcoming and hospitable in God’s love as we welcome these
people into the valley to do the work that will make us whole and help God’s
creation heal. It’s an exciting, though daunting, task.
With this transition,
some of us are moving on to different positions. Some of us are leaving as our
terms of service come to an end. I am one of those staffers who chose to leave.
The last of Psalm 133 is now what is causing me to look to life beyond this
valley. “For there (in kindred unity) the Lord ordained his blessing, life
forevermore.” I leave this town on Wednesday, my term of service at an end and
my work in the kitchen complete. God rejoices in the work we do here, both in
our lives together and our lives of service to better his creation. I’m looking
forward to taking this year and the lessons I’ve learned and applying it to
life elsewhere – at Luther Seminary as I prepare for my own ministry, and
wherever else God so leads. As it stands, I am awfully sad to leave you all in
this valley. I’ve learned so many things here, and made so many connections,
but there is a time to live in other places, too, and serve in different ways.
So, in closing, I give
all of you gathered here this night my thanks for letting me spend a year among
you. Thank you for enduring the times that I cooked with too much garlic (more
often than not, sadly) or made too-rich potato soup, thank you for your counsel
and guidance as I look towards seminary and further discern my call, thank you
for your hugs and your prayers, your laughter and your wisdom. Thank you for
pushing me to play piano at Vespers, even though I only did it once. Thank you
for giving me the opportunity to lead Hunger Awareness vespers, as it was an
eye-opening and exciting glimpse into what my future in Christian public
leadership will look like. Thank you to my kitchen crew, Thomas, Claire, Chris,
Molly, Peter, Natalie, and Kari, for all the chopping and cutting and bread
baking and successes and frustrations that we went through together. You’ve
taught me to work more wholly as part of a team; given me true friendship,
allowed me to grow in leadership, and you’ve shown me true grace when I screw
up. Thank you, everyone, for showing me the true Christ embodied here, as
servant, as giver, and as peacemaker. Thank you for restoring my view of Christ
and how He acts in and among us.
I leave here on Wednesday
with a heavy heart to be away from you all here in this mountain valley, but I
am leaving with the expectation and hope of great, immeasurably awesome things
to come. As you look forward to what’s next, go in peace and remain in the
light. Thanks be to God.
Hopefully this ends up being meaningful in some way to the community tonight. It was helpful to write this, as it helped organized my thoughts as I prepare for final departure. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone back in Minnesota again - see you soon.
God's peace, always -
Dean
