Back and Forth
02/10/12 05:17
We were able to get away for a quick drive through Custer State Park yesterday. The day was absolutely beautiful with the yellow leaves still on the trees and plenty of wildlife out and about close to the road for easy viewing. We paused at Legion Lake for a cup of coffee and a short walk. It was clear, however, that the park is coming to the end of its season. People were working to put away summer equipment. The boats were coming out of the water, being power washed and put into storage. Picnic tables were being rounded up and stacked. The traffic was light and most of the activities of employees were geared toward getting the park ready for winter. Last week’s buffalo roundup was the final big event of the season for the park.
The forecast calls for a chance of rain tomorrow and for descending temperatures throughout the week. We have a chance of snow Friday, though it hardly seems possible as we enjoy the beautiful weather. That is one of the great features of the hills. The weather can surprise you. Sudden changes in temperature and in other weather conditions are a part of living here. There have been records set in the hills for the most rapid change in temperature and for the largest variation in temperature in two points only ten miles apart.
I like it that way. The element of surprise adds a certain flavor to life here.
The forecast does, however, remind me of several chores around the place that need to be completed before the snow flies. I’ll be scrambling to get things done in the edges around what already is shaping up to be a busy week. In fact, October is shaping up to be a very busy month around the church. We’ve got a lot of activities without many breaks.
We made two short visits yesterday to a friend and member of the church who is nearing the end of this life’s journey. She has had a long and meaningful life. We have watched her decline and knew that this time was coming, but there is still a sense of sadness in sitting at her bedside now that she is not able to talk. We know that she can hear and she opens her eyes when we talk, so we have shared stories and scripture, prayers and memories.
Life has its seasons. We wouldn’t want it any other way. Still, they catch you by surprise, even when they flow in an orderly and meaningful fashion.
We have been praying for precipitation. We can’t complain about snow. We have been praying for an end to suffering. We can’t complain about the transition from this life to what is next.
In Corinthians, Paul asks, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” Anyone who knows the story of our friend’s life knows that it is a story of the triumph of life, of conquering odds, of love embodied, of commitment that brings forth futures. Even as we sat in the quiet room at the care center, we were deeply aware of sign after sign of God’s good gift of life: the pictures of family, the care of the staff, one another drawn together, and the gentle spirit that lingers briefly just to gift us with her presence. This is no tragedy. It is a triumph of the spirit.
For some reason, I have been thinking about writing a memoir lately. I don’t suspect that I will start anytime soon. I have always considered the writing of memoirs to be a task for retirement, though I know of many who have written such documents at younger ages. In fact there are several noted memoirists who wrote multiple memoirs in their forties and fifties. Still there are plenty of things that call me forward enough to make looking backward a bit inappropriate at the moment.
I suspect that the time of ending the educational consultants program last week put me in a bit of a nostalgic mood. I have so many great memories of the program and the colleagues with whom I worked and there is a bit of a sense that the institutional memory will be short on educational ministries in the United Church of Christ. There are plenty of visionary young leaders who will help the church discover new opportunities of ministry, but few of them remember the struggles and hard work we invested in our time. That may be good, but one can’t help but fear some repeated mistakes and a slowing of forward progress while new people learn age-old lessons.
At any rate, it isn’t time to start writing a memoir at present. In the first place, I am too busy. This is an exciting season to be in the midst of our congregation. We are engaged in a new budget process. We are experiencing significant growth in membership and in giving. There are emerging ministries bubbling up all over and new projects starting in many different venues.
Another good reason to avoid writing a memoir, or at least to avoid publishing such a document, is that despite what we think, our memory is rarely accurate. A remembered tale can be entertaining and a good read, but there is almost always a different perspective on the events of the past. And, as many memoirists know, that different perspective is likely to come from a beloved family member. Memoirs may tell a family story to the world, but they rarely bring the writers into favor with the rest of the family. It is just too easy to misrepresent an incident or to portray a family member in a less than flattering manner.
I know that when I am with my siblings, we have different takes on our common past. We remember similar incidents in different ways. There are incidents that one remembers that others do not. I once remarked that I need to be reminded that my brother and I grew up in the same house with the same parents. Sometimes when he gets to talking about the past I don’t recognize his stories. I don’t particularly want him to write a memoir. I’m sure he feels the same about me.
So today, weather permitting, I’m off to a meeting in Pierre at the beginning of what will prove to be a very busy week. The weather will do what it will. We will part for this life from a friend. Life will go on. Looking forward seems to be a good way to think.
The forecast calls for a chance of rain tomorrow and for descending temperatures throughout the week. We have a chance of snow Friday, though it hardly seems possible as we enjoy the beautiful weather. That is one of the great features of the hills. The weather can surprise you. Sudden changes in temperature and in other weather conditions are a part of living here. There have been records set in the hills for the most rapid change in temperature and for the largest variation in temperature in two points only ten miles apart.
I like it that way. The element of surprise adds a certain flavor to life here.
The forecast does, however, remind me of several chores around the place that need to be completed before the snow flies. I’ll be scrambling to get things done in the edges around what already is shaping up to be a busy week. In fact, October is shaping up to be a very busy month around the church. We’ve got a lot of activities without many breaks.
We made two short visits yesterday to a friend and member of the church who is nearing the end of this life’s journey. She has had a long and meaningful life. We have watched her decline and knew that this time was coming, but there is still a sense of sadness in sitting at her bedside now that she is not able to talk. We know that she can hear and she opens her eyes when we talk, so we have shared stories and scripture, prayers and memories.
Life has its seasons. We wouldn’t want it any other way. Still, they catch you by surprise, even when they flow in an orderly and meaningful fashion.
We have been praying for precipitation. We can’t complain about snow. We have been praying for an end to suffering. We can’t complain about the transition from this life to what is next.
In Corinthians, Paul asks, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” Anyone who knows the story of our friend’s life knows that it is a story of the triumph of life, of conquering odds, of love embodied, of commitment that brings forth futures. Even as we sat in the quiet room at the care center, we were deeply aware of sign after sign of God’s good gift of life: the pictures of family, the care of the staff, one another drawn together, and the gentle spirit that lingers briefly just to gift us with her presence. This is no tragedy. It is a triumph of the spirit.
For some reason, I have been thinking about writing a memoir lately. I don’t suspect that I will start anytime soon. I have always considered the writing of memoirs to be a task for retirement, though I know of many who have written such documents at younger ages. In fact there are several noted memoirists who wrote multiple memoirs in their forties and fifties. Still there are plenty of things that call me forward enough to make looking backward a bit inappropriate at the moment.
I suspect that the time of ending the educational consultants program last week put me in a bit of a nostalgic mood. I have so many great memories of the program and the colleagues with whom I worked and there is a bit of a sense that the institutional memory will be short on educational ministries in the United Church of Christ. There are plenty of visionary young leaders who will help the church discover new opportunities of ministry, but few of them remember the struggles and hard work we invested in our time. That may be good, but one can’t help but fear some repeated mistakes and a slowing of forward progress while new people learn age-old lessons.
At any rate, it isn’t time to start writing a memoir at present. In the first place, I am too busy. This is an exciting season to be in the midst of our congregation. We are engaged in a new budget process. We are experiencing significant growth in membership and in giving. There are emerging ministries bubbling up all over and new projects starting in many different venues.
Another good reason to avoid writing a memoir, or at least to avoid publishing such a document, is that despite what we think, our memory is rarely accurate. A remembered tale can be entertaining and a good read, but there is almost always a different perspective on the events of the past. And, as many memoirists know, that different perspective is likely to come from a beloved family member. Memoirs may tell a family story to the world, but they rarely bring the writers into favor with the rest of the family. It is just too easy to misrepresent an incident or to portray a family member in a less than flattering manner.
I know that when I am with my siblings, we have different takes on our common past. We remember similar incidents in different ways. There are incidents that one remembers that others do not. I once remarked that I need to be reminded that my brother and I grew up in the same house with the same parents. Sometimes when he gets to talking about the past I don’t recognize his stories. I don’t particularly want him to write a memoir. I’m sure he feels the same about me.
So today, weather permitting, I’m off to a meeting in Pierre at the beginning of what will prove to be a very busy week. The weather will do what it will. We will part for this life from a friend. Life will go on. Looking forward seems to be a good way to think.