Late Autumn Remembrances
On this rainy and drear late October day, I resist going outside and spend much of my day in my bathrobe reading older posts and journal entries, avoiding looking forward to the next leg of my path in ministry.
My eye is caught by a small quilt that still hangs on my wall where it has been for nearly fifteen years. It was made for me by my Sunday School children as a farewell gift when I left their church.
At the top, it says "Rev. Gloria's Favorite Things," and consists of quilt blocks with hand drawn pictures. Now, I'm certain the adults guided this creation. Otherwise, these children and youth saw far more into my person than I ever would have guessed! The depictions of favorite things follow themes that truly reflect my personal life. A bit of church life, too, I suppose, though there is nothing overtly theological. There are dogs and cats; coffee, candles, and music; books--fortunately the Bible is included; mountains and airplanes; and, less frequently, flowers, sunshine, and Christmas trees. One drawing even includes roller blades, a bicycle, and oddly, a hammock hung between two palm trees. Only one square has a vehicle--it looks like an English double decker with a dog and cat in the open, upper deck with musical notes coming from their mouths.
I suppose the remembrance could be worse! The dog and the cat were quite visible to the congregation since I lived in a parsonage adjacent to the church building. The foster dog was very friendly--and quite prone to running away. She could quickly be found, though, at the baseball field two blocks to the west that was usually littered with discarded chips and other savory treats. The cat often followed me up and down the street and occasionally peered through the church windows to the lower level conference room where we held our meetings.
Ah, coffee, candles, and music were constant companions in and after church. I imagine that people still recall the day that I left the Starbucks cup on the edge of the communion table while I was doing my last minute preparations for Sunday worship. And did not notice until we were lining up for the opening procession!
Mountains and airplanes signified my holiday trips to Colorado to visit my eldest son. He had moved there shortly after his college graduation, and, at that point, had been there for more than a dozen years. I expect that the hammock between the pine trees represented my plans to take my two sons and the eldest's significant other to Hawaii, right after my farewell at the church.
I don't recall riding my bicycle very much in that busy city neighborhood. There were no nearby bike trails. I did, however, roller blade around the church property. Though that came to a swift end when I made the mistake of taking the dog along on a leash. She and I moved in different directions resulting in my catapulting over the dog's back and onto the concrete. A painful lapse of judgment.
That a vehicle was portrayed in only one quilt square seemed odd. I thought the congregation was somewhat surprised? amused? by my choice of cars. Whatever reaction, it created a great deal of conversation! Just a few months before beginning my call there, I had needed to replace my troublesome car. I suddenly realized that, with my youngest child well into his college journey, I no longer needed a car that could carry hockey sticks and the other bulky baggage. And, in a moment of midlife insanity, bought a little roadster convertible. A source of great delight for both me and my foster dog!
So...here, fifteen years later, what has changed? Am I still this person described on this quilt? Oh, coffee, candles, music, and books are still the staples in my life. And though the dog and cat have gone on to their rewards, I have two other wonderful cats who keep me company. The roadster is still in my possession but is on its last legs. I shall probably need to face the pain of giving it up, perhaps a donation to the public radio station. Mountains and airplanes have become even more important touch points, for I am now a mother-in-law and grandmother who finds the 1,000 mile distance between us to be painful. Two or three trips each year does not quite keep up with the lives of growing grandsons.
Airplanes have also figured in more frequent travel and pilgrimages as I approach retirement. Since I received the quilt, besides the many trips to Colorado, I have traveled to Africa, Turkey, Scotland, France, and Spain. To Alabama, Mississippi, and California. My spiritual journeys have included completing my doctoral studies and following a persistent nudge toward a more liturgical denomination, eventually becoming a parish priest and being called to serve another congregation.
Now, as I am coming closer and closer to retirement, I am wondering how I will be remembered. My one hope is that there will continue to be what felt like fond appreciation--or at least acceptance--of my foibles and favorite things. I would hope, too, though, that there would be someone who would be touched by my joy in the liturgy that engages our bodies and senses, my nudges toward ways of deepening relationships with God, my soapbox of getting outside the door of the church to "love and serve the Lord," and my ongoing striving to connect the strong roots of the heritage we have been given with the gifts and needs of this particular time and place.
My eye is caught by a small quilt that still hangs on my wall where it has been for nearly fifteen years. It was made for me by my Sunday School children as a farewell gift when I left their church.
I suppose the remembrance could be worse! The dog and the cat were quite visible to the congregation since I lived in a parsonage adjacent to the church building. The foster dog was very friendly--and quite prone to running away. She could quickly be found, though, at the baseball field two blocks to the west that was usually littered with discarded chips and other savory treats. The cat often followed me up and down the street and occasionally peered through the church windows to the lower level conference room where we held our meetings.
Ah, coffee, candles, and music were constant companions in and after church. I imagine that people still recall the day that I left the Starbucks cup on the edge of the communion table while I was doing my last minute preparations for Sunday worship. And did not notice until we were lining up for the opening procession!
Mountains and airplanes signified my holiday trips to Colorado to visit my eldest son. He had moved there shortly after his college graduation, and, at that point, had been there for more than a dozen years. I expect that the hammock between the pine trees represented my plans to take my two sons and the eldest's significant other to Hawaii, right after my farewell at the church.
I don't recall riding my bicycle very much in that busy city neighborhood. There were no nearby bike trails. I did, however, roller blade around the church property. Though that came to a swift end when I made the mistake of taking the dog along on a leash. She and I moved in different directions resulting in my catapulting over the dog's back and onto the concrete. A painful lapse of judgment.
That a vehicle was portrayed in only one quilt square seemed odd. I thought the congregation was somewhat surprised? amused? by my choice of cars. Whatever reaction, it created a great deal of conversation! Just a few months before beginning my call there, I had needed to replace my troublesome car. I suddenly realized that, with my youngest child well into his college journey, I no longer needed a car that could carry hockey sticks and the other bulky baggage. And, in a moment of midlife insanity, bought a little roadster convertible. A source of great delight for both me and my foster dog!So...here, fifteen years later, what has changed? Am I still this person described on this quilt? Oh, coffee, candles, music, and books are still the staples in my life. And though the dog and cat have gone on to their rewards, I have two other wonderful cats who keep me company. The roadster is still in my possession but is on its last legs. I shall probably need to face the pain of giving it up, perhaps a donation to the public radio station. Mountains and airplanes have become even more important touch points, for I am now a mother-in-law and grandmother who finds the 1,000 mile distance between us to be painful. Two or three trips each year does not quite keep up with the lives of growing grandsons.
Airplanes have also figured in more frequent travel and pilgrimages as I approach retirement. Since I received the quilt, besides the many trips to Colorado, I have traveled to Africa, Turkey, Scotland, France, and Spain. To Alabama, Mississippi, and California. My spiritual journeys have included completing my doctoral studies and following a persistent nudge toward a more liturgical denomination, eventually becoming a parish priest and being called to serve another congregation.
Now, as I am coming closer and closer to retirement, I am wondering how I will be remembered. My one hope is that there will continue to be what felt like fond appreciation--or at least acceptance--of my foibles and favorite things. I would hope, too, though, that there would be someone who would be touched by my joy in the liturgy that engages our bodies and senses, my nudges toward ways of deepening relationships with God, my soapbox of getting outside the door of the church to "love and serve the Lord," and my ongoing striving to connect the strong roots of the heritage we have been given with the gifts and needs of this particular time and place.
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