Relationship Issues

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July 11, 2010

Ministry in KC Area Thrives

Posted by PeterT under Family, Relationship Issues, Sources of Strength, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: |
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Mary Ann and I were invited to a Kansas City Chiefs football game after we had been at the church in the KC area for a while.  Neither of us had been to a professional football game before.  When we first entered the stadium (brand new at that time) it was as if we had entered a different world entirely.  The colors, the crowd, the sounds, the excitement, the energy, the beer and nachos.  We both were caught up in it.

Sometimes tickets were given to us.  Often for the December games.  We went.  We wrapped ourselves in plastic garbage bags and cheered the team on.  At first Mary Ann would ask about the basics, “what is this ten yard business?”  Soon she could name the quarterbacks and the stars on many of the teams.  A few times members took us with them to one of the suites at the stadium with free food and drinks.  During that time she remembered her years in Aurora and routing for the Bears.  That settled it.  The Bears it would be.  There were a number of other favorites, but always the Bears.  We had Bears’ posters and Bears’ Calendars, a Bears’ license plate frame (still on the van) and a six and a half foot tall free standing cardboard cutout of a Bears’ player. 

The ministry began with an emphasis on the Youth of the congregation.  There was a New Orleans gathering of 25,000 Lutheran Youth and Counselors.  Busloads traveled there in the August heat.  The Superdome had just opened.  The room I used to lead one of the programs was not finished yet.  I had to wait until the second day to do my sectional. 

The Youth work was not Mary Ann’s favorite.  It was not that she had a role in it.  I made sure that the Youth ministry did not encroach on our personal life.  It was more the time and energy, the attention I gave the Youth that she did not particularly appreciate.   It was not a bone of contention between us.  She knew it was my job. 

The Youth ministry flourished, especially in the first ten years or so.  The centerpiece was the annual trek in three unairconditioned school busses across all of Kansas and the flat and hot half of Colorado to Lutheran Valley Retreat [LVR] fifty miles northwest of Colorado Springs, well into the mountains.  A cluster of us wrote the program and we spent a full week immersed in faith building and community building in one of the most beautiful settings I have ever seen in my life. 

The air was dry and thin and crisp.  Cool nights and hot days, the smell the pines, the rustle of the wind through them brought a calm and peace that was wonderful to experience.  We climbed a steep hill and sat on an outcropping of rocks, watching falling stars, opening ourselves to one another, sharing our deepest struggles and finding hope in a Lord’s love of us. 

There would be as many as eight or nine people playing (or learning to play) the guitar, sitting on the front edge of the platform by the upper fire ring.  We sang songs that lifted our spirits.  We came to know them so well that we sang parts, improvised, added words and phrases, sometimes actions to them.  Every year at the major evening worship every person there was included in and experienced what it means to experience community with others — no one was left out.  There was a powerful experience of the unconditional love of a Lord who could see past our flaws.  For adolescents in search of an identity and acceptance of themselves at a time of such change physically and emotionally, it was a chance to find something powerful enough to help them through it.    

In the years I was at that congregation, I participated in thirteen trips to LVR.  That trip impacted the faith and the life of many of us over the years.  Each time when I returned, physically and emotionally drained, I knew that I needed to be careful not to be too enthusiastic in sharing the experience.  Mary Ann had just had a week by herself with the kids trying to deal with all that comes in the first week out of school in the summer. 

I worked together with the Youth Leaders of a number of congregations but especially one other congregation, much bigger than ours.  In many ways it was a joint ministry.  The Youth of the two churches met together every Wednesday evening for many years. 

When I first arrived, I trained groups of Adults who then taught classes in the Bethel Bible Series.  That provided an Adult connection.  I preached once every three Sundays for most of the time at that church.  Since I was especailly interested in worship and liturgy, the Senior Pastor and I worked together in planning worship services.

As an Assistant and then Associate Pastor, I did not have an opportunity to preach on any of the major festivals in the year.  The one exception was a service I started at 11pm on Christmas Eve.  It became a focal point in the year for me.  I began, sometimes as early as late summer, thinking about what I would say in that service.  I started the tradition of having instrumentalists introduce each carol we sang.  Some years we ended up with a small orchestra.  We had the best of the musicians in the congregation, sometimes with the addition of others they knew who were willing to play.  There were often soloists, one in particular who sang Gesu Bambino beautifully each year.  It grew into one of the major services in the year. 

One ministry that grew quietly was counseling.  It did not have as high a profile as the others, but became one of the most time consuming and satisfying of the ministries in which I participated.  There was, of course, lots to be done with the Youth.  It expanded to include marriage counseling, individual counseling, support for those who had gone through a divorce or the death of a loved one or problems with their children.  Since I had double majored including Psychology as one of the majors both at college and the Seminary and had done supervised Counseling, I knew enough to realize when I should do the Counseling myself and when I should refer them to someone who was a Phd Psychologist.  On occasion I teamed with a Psychologist when it was requested. 

The years in that church included a growing Early Childhood program.  That program was my responsibility.  Seeing the need and the opportunity to touch many families as well as raise the congregation’s visibility in the community, I supported the Early Childhood Staff as we worked together to determine how and when to expand the ministry.  We added a Mother’s Day Out program.  Then we constructed a School-age Child Care program.  At one point there were 150 children involved.  We had to rent the church across the street to accomodate one of the programs. 

There was a need to organize the community ministries.  We developed a group of people who had a heart for those in need.  That team developed numbers of ministries or connected with existing ones, serving the needs of many in the KC area.  The people on the team were creative and energetic.  If there was a need, they found a way to meet it. 

During the last five years of those ministries, I entered a Doctor of Ministry Program.  I began it around 1981 and completed it in 1986.  It took so long because those ministries to children in the community that were were the subject of my doctoral thesis took so much time to plan and implement. 

The ministries thrived, but the national church controversy finally had a direct impact on the congregation.   That is a painful part of the story of that congregation and the ministry there.   That chapter comes next.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 10, 2010

Day of Healing

Posted by PeterT under Family, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Sources of Strength, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , |
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There must have been a lot of prayers going to the Lord on my behalf this morning.  The service seemed to go very well — and my emotions stayed at an appropriate level.  That was a gift from the Lord.  Yesterday had not been a very good day in terms of the presence of the pain.  It lay just beneath the surface of my interactions and conversations. 

This morning my apprehensions about what might bubble to the surface during the service were strong.  I had a moment by myself in the van on the way to picking up Joy who would be playing in the service.  As I drove the purpose of the service came into focus again, to affirm the Lord and the witness of Mary Ann’s life.  It was not to demonstrate my grief or display it or garner attention for myself.  Accomplishing those goals was no longer in my hands, but the Lord’s hands. 

That peace that comes sometimes when there is an encounter with the powerful love and Grace of the Lord settled as I drove.  It freed me to release the nervousness.  Lot’s of times I ask for the Lord’s help.  This time it was clear that I could not do this myself.  I don’t have control over my feelings.  They have a life of their own.  Making it through the service was a gift, not an accomplishment. 

The result was that I benefitted from the service more than anyone else.  It really did feel good to have the service at the place where Mary Ann and I both made many of the important transitions in our lives.  It helped provide perspective on her death.  It became part of a continuity, beginning, middle, end, new beginning. 

Most of the people gathered were people who knew Mary Ann when she was a child, a young adult, long before the Parkinson’s.  Their connection with her was longstanding.  It felt good to me in that way to be present again with the Mary Ann I knew from the beginning of our life together.

It was good to have a connection with the congregation from which I retired through Julianna who now lives in Chicago.  She is a Director of Christian Education at a congregation there.  Her Mother serves as the Director of Children’s Ministry at the parish from which I retired. 

It was very meaningful to me that Daughter Lisa, Denis, Abigail and Ashlyn, and Son Micah, Becky and Chloe drove so far just to be part of this community and to give me support.  The family doily that has been popping up in presents or suitcases or any number of places over the years, appeared on the lectern when I came to the front to lead the service (thanks to Becky and Lisa). 

What followed with the lunch and memory sharing time was profoundly healing to me.  It took a long time to get rolling, but the stories and impressions began coming out more and more.  I have always spent about an hour and a half with families a day or two before the funeral of their Loved One, doing what we did this afternoon.  I ask for stories from the person’s life, memories that reveal something of who they were.  I now realize that may have been the single most beneficial part of the ministry to those who are dealing with a death. 

At the moment, it feels as if I have actually regained some of the good feelings that came with having Mary Ann as a part of my life, being a part of hers.  Talking with, spending time with members of her family, nephews and nieces, sisters-in-law seemed to bring me closer to her.  Listening to her three closest friends, Joy, Terry and Cherri, brought me back to our first days together and times we all spent with one another, as well as pictures of her from before I knew her personally. 

Later in the evening, a small group gathered at my Sister’s home.  That group included all five siblings in my family.  The other four range in age from 81 to 72.  I am 6 and 1/2 years younger than my closest sibling.  We are three boys and two girls.  There were lots of memories shared.  We have different sets of memories from our growing up years.  This was a chance to connect the dots on some of them.   We all love each other and enjoy each others company.  We do not necessarily always agree on everything, but we are family.  That time was also very healing to me. 

I have absolutely no idea if the sensation of being healed of some of the pain will last hours, days, weeks or months.  I know that there will be lots of painful times to come.  At least for the moment, a sense of wholeness has returned.  Thank you for all the thoughts and prayers. 

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 9, 2010

Life in KC Continues

Posted by PeterT under Family, Relationship Issues | Tags: , |
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Lisa started in the local public school, but the class size was huge and classroom management took most of the teacher’s time and energy.  We moved her to a wonderful Lutheran Parochial school with creative teachers, a good ethnic mix of students and a class size that allowed our children to thrive.  When his turn came, Micah joined Lisa there.  We got to know the teachers well, so our poor kids could not get away with anything.  As is often so in a small school, sometimes the relationships were challenging, but the faculty was positive and affirming.   When it came time for Lisa to go to high school, a new Lutheran High had opened just a few years before.  Because of the geography of the situation, Micah moved to a large nearby Catholic school while Lisa attended the Lutheran High.  When the Lutheran high moved to a different building, Lisa’s round trip commute was 27 miles of city and Interstate driving. 

Both of the kids did very well in school.  Lisa was the first female Valedictorian at the Lutheran High, and Micah was the Lutheran at a Catholic School who was chosen to give the student address at the 8th Grade Graduation.  The kids were in endless sports activities.  Both played soccer especially well.  We got to know the families of the other kids, especially when they were in their elementary years.  Mary Ann was at every game, embarrassing the kids with her cheering them on (occasionally disagreeing with the officials’ calls — we actually got a yellow card at one soccer game).

Mary Ann volunteered at the school, especially the Lutheran Parochial School.  Her creativity made her popular with all the teachers.  She always loved most volunteering at the school library.  We provided the summer home for the rabbit and the chicken that had been a part of the learning experience in the classroom during the school year.  There was the requisite Gerbil and later, Hermit Crab. 

Mary Ann was a remarkable cook.  She learned well from her Mother and moved on from there.  As much as I loved my Mom and her cooking, there is no question that Mary Ann was a better cook.  She cooked great meals, but on occasion there would be some disapproval of the meal by one of the children, who shall remain nameless.  “This is what we are having.  If you don’t like it, make your own food.”  So he did!  Oops. 

I would hesitate to even begin to calculate the number of boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese that were eaten in those years.   Lisa had her moments too.  Mary Ann shaped it differently and called it Lisa loaf, but I don’t think Lisa ever really fell for that.  Both kids refused to eat any meat that had any visible evidence it had ever been a living being — no bones allowed.  Mary Ann did have a mental block when it came to boiling eggs.  We were at Leonard’s Restaurant when she remembered.  I left the family there, rushed back to the house and arrived some time after the eggs had exploded all over the kitchen and the pan was ruined.  We lost at least three or four pans over the years — they were never salvagable after an egg explosion.  The smell was frightening.

The ice cream obsession was just a given from day one.  Desserts of any sort were a regular addition to our days. 

MaryAnn worked part time after the kids were settled in full days in school.  There was the Midwest Health Congress.  That one demanded her staying at the hotel in Kansas City where the conference was held once a year.   I, of course, had full responsibility for the kids during those few days.   I learned tons about what it means to have 24 hour responsibility for the kids.   I didn’t realize how much having primary responsibility for the kids care, 24/7, differed from having the freedom to move in and out, leaving the primary role to the other parent much of the time.   We did have one really fun way to deal with the challenge of mealtimes while she was gone.  I asked the kids to write down menu’s for the three or four days.  We made two grocery lists that would provide the needed ingredients.  Then we went to the store, each one had her/his own shopping cart and list, and each one went out on his/her own.  When we gathered at the register, the amount of food we bought was at least twice what we would normally get, but it was worth it for the learning experience and the entertainment value. 

One of the places Mary Ann worked for quite a while was called the Living Center.  The focus was providing support for families, Family Enrichment workshops, along with all sorts of other programs to help keep families healthy.  Since we still had one car at that time, I drove her to work in the morning and picked her up in the afternoon, right after picking up the kids from school.

After dropping her off, the ritual two or three times a week was for me to stop and the nearby McDonald’s for coffee.  I had begun working at Spiritual Formation, seeking times of reflection and meditation.  I decided to try an experiment.  I would bring in my Bible and a meditative reading (usually by an author named Ed Hayes).  I would locate a spot in the middle of the McDonald’s, drink the coffee, read the next segment of the Bible, which I was reading through at that time.  I would then read the same devotion however many days I stopped there that week. 

This McDonald’s was in a mid-town location, near the art district.  There were people of all types.  There were young and old, affluent business folks and street people, handicapped and healthy, many dads getting something for their little ones before taking them to daycare.  There was ethnic variety in all the groupings just listed.   The time spent in that spot tuning in to the life of the those gathered in my peripheral vision, took the message of the Scriptures, the message of the written meditation and shaped my understanding of the message my life was about.  If the Gospel did not have meaning in that setting, it did not have meaning anywhere.  It did!  I could write many paragraphs about the people I saw there.   That is for another time.  (I have written abouto the McDonald’s experience somewhere in earlier posts.)

Next, the thriving ministry during those years and the exploding controversy in the national church body’s impact on it. 

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 8, 2010

Family Life in Kansas City

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It is hard to imagine a more normal family life than ours — a Mom, a Dad and two children, a Daughter and a Son.  We chose to live frugally so that Mary Ann could stay home with the kids at least until they were both going to school full days.  We had one car, a fairly small house payment, and we were very careful how we spent what we had (I was the Ogre in that regard).   Having  only one car actually increased the time our family was together.  We could not all go different directions.  We did not get a second car until Lisa was driving age. 

Mary Ann was very creative, able to create good times with very simple things.  (I am hoping Lisa and Micah will write some of their memories of their Mom for me to include in a subsequent post.)  She quickly developed a neighborhood babysitting coop.  One Mom had three other Mom’s kids while they went out.  The next Thursday (not sure of the day) a different Mom would have the kids. 

There was a wading pool at a nearby vest pocket park that they often walked to.  There were summer activities there.   There was a YMCA with an outdoor pool not much farther away.  That was a favorite spot.  We went for walks in the neighborhood. 

There were the usual interesting times that come with having children.  Lisa and Chris down the block decided to cut each other’s hair one time.  Lisa got the worst of that one.  Micah was getting a push on his three-wheeled “Green Machine” by a neighbor girl who didn’t see that his toes were scraping on the cement.  The toes survived, but they looked pretty bad at the time.  Lisa ran away one time.  She told us she was doing so.  She came back shortly since when she got to the end of the block she stopped and turned around since she was not yet allowed to cross the street.  Micah, who was (is) very good at drawing, took a ball point pen to the wing back chair in the living room, making indelible circles around the two decorative buttons on it. 

We all have often remembered the time the snow was so deep that there was no school.  The four of us trudged a number of blocks to Leonard’s Restaurant that we had discovered managed to stay open.  We had a great breakfast there, as always.  Then there was the year that the ice and snow took out the power for a number of days.  We camped out in front of the fireplace. 

Then came the bees!  I got a call from Mary Ann that there were bees coming down the chimney.  As I raced home, she opened the flue and lit some papers on fire to get them out.  The papers went out and the bees came in through the open flue and started gathering on the sheer curtains in the Living Room.  When I got home, I saw a huge swarm of bees that looked like thick blanket, hanging from the outside of the chimney.  I put on a trenchcoat, jeans, boots, a hat, scarf around my face, and with spray cans and badminton rackets made a frontal assault on them.  Finally, we called a beekeeper who came with his smoker and a cardboard box, coaxed them into the box and put them in the trunk.  It took a couple of weeks for them all to leave, but since he had gotten the queen bee, they finally left completely.

We vacationed at Estes Park in Colorado one summer.  The kids road horses and played during the day.  I hiked, Mary Ann read.  We enjoyed watching a species of Prairie Dogs that had their home in an open area surrounded by cabins. 

We went on a couple of ski trips with families from the congregation.  We took sleeper busses out, skiied three days and then returned over night.  The skiing was great fun.  The first year, Mary Ann and I were still on the bunny slope the afternoon of the first day as we looked up to see our young children riding the lift up the mountain.  It was embarrassing. 

On that first trip, I watched blind skiers, handicapped skiers, snake-like strings of three year old skiers with no poles in hand pass me by.  I did gather speed once near the bottom of that run, ski over the front of a blind skier’s skis and ski at full speed straight into a very tall wall of snow at the side of the run at the very bottom.  The impact pushed the snow through the hairs of my beard to the skin beneath.  I became the butt of many jokes. 

On our last day of skiing the second year, the shuttle bus we were on in the morning slid off the road and tilted on to its side.  We all exited through the emergency door at the back of the bus.  No one was hurt.  What we did not know was that the morning bus accident was an omen of things to come. 

As all of us were sitting in the sleeper bus with the benches facing one another so that we could play cards and talk, as we were driving out of the mountains, with snow falling.  The bus began to shift and we realized it was out of control, passing between cars.  Then for a moment, time seemed to stop completely as we moved into a sort of eerie slow motion spin.  We looked at each other as the bus began to go around, back end to the front, front end to the back.  Finally, after an eternity, it came to rest against the guard rail overlooking a steep drop.  Just under our window, a car slammed into the side of the bus, injuring the driveras his head hit the windshield.  His injuries did not appear to be serious. 

That was our last ski trip.  Mary Ann always had trouble getting off the lift.  She would fall every time and could not get up without help.  She spent the last trip in the lodge drinking hot chocolate.  With hindsight, it seems likely that the symptoms were beginning to appear before we had any idea there was a problem.  The general wisdom is that a person has Parkinson’s Disease for at least five years before the symptoms become obvious enough for it to be diagnosed. 

Then there was the notorious Colorado Vacation that never happened.  We started out heading for Colorado.  We barely got out of the city and the two kids were arguing with one another (one probably dared to put a finger across the imaginary line between each one’s side).  Both Mary Ann and I were fed up with it, so we told them we were not going to Colorado.  Their punishment was Des Moines.  That is where we ended up instead of Colorado.   Lest you from Des Moines be offended, we enjoyed the Living History Farm and a Science Museum that was great for the kids.  We did the Amana Colonies afterward. 

Mary Ann had a bit of a rebellious streak as far as church was concerned.  She certainly had no interest in being a “Pastor’s Wife.”  The way we talked about it when the subject came up was that she and I were husband and wife.  I was a Pastor.  She was who she was, not an attachment to someone else.  (That is where Lisa gets it, Denis.)  She participated at church in lots of ways that were meaningful to her.  She did not, however, seek to meet some set of expectations placed on her by others.  The kids mentioned to me recently that she would always stop with them at Daylight Donuts on State line before coming to church, often making them late for church.  I, of course, was oblivious to it since I was immersed in the Sunday morning tasks. 

One Christmas Eve, Micah had been sick for a few days.  He was having strong stomach pain as the 11pm worship service at which I was preaching approached.  Finally, Mary Ann had to get him to the Emergency Room to be checked out as I was preaching the sermon.  I had lost one brother to peritonitis from a burst appendix and another brother and I had had emergency appendectomies, mine when I was seven years old.   It turned out to be dehydration, but it certainly scared me. 

Enough for now.  The family track will continue on course, but the church track will soon be impacted by the national level controversy. 

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 6, 2010

This Old House — Home for Fifteen Years

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Everywhere we looked, there were Moms with large bellies growing.   Mary Ann felt right at home.  It could not have been the water.  She had come from Ft. Wayne already pregnant.  Whatever it was, the babies popped out one after another, mostly boys.  The day before Micah was born, we had just come from the doctor’s office.  He said that she was already dilated some and would have the baby any time.  I was driving toward home, when to my horror, the engine stopped running.  We had run out of gas.  I don’t remember what Mary Ann said, but some things are better not to know.   Micah arrived the next day, September 7.   I have to admit that I was mightily irritated when I was told that I would have to leave now and go to the waiting room — and awful place with magazines from the 50’s.  I had been in the Delivery room when Lisa was born.  At Research Hospital, the rules changed concerning that issue two weeks after Micah was born.  I can remember taking Lisa with me to the street outside the hospital so that she could wave to her Mom.  She was a little over three years old at the time.  Mary Ann often lamented the timing of having both kids in the heat of summer in hot climates.  It just dawned on me, she may have been blaming me for that!

Then there was the house.  We looked mostly on the Kansas side, in Johnson County, since that was where the church was located.  After a while, nothing seemed to ring our chimes.  There was one possibility, but it was a little over the range that had been suggested to us based on my salary.  Then the realtor said, “We can look at the old house on the Missouri side.” 

Understand that the Missouri side meant a school system that had a typically bad reputation for quality as a city school district.  The Missouri side was more varied racially.  Johnson County was much less varied ethnically.   Both of us appreciated the older feel and ethnic variety of the Missouri side, but mostly, we just fell in love with the house the first time we saw it.   We bought it in 1972 for $22,500.

We had both grown up in older homes.  The “Old House” as she called it, was a two story shake sided house built in 1926.  The developer built to match the topography, leaving trees, curving streets around the hill.  The trees were all tall and stately.  There was a large bed of irises in full bloom.  The lilac bush was hanging with heavy clusters of blossoms filling the air with their scent.  There was the largest pussy willow bush/tree I have ever seen.  There was a spectacular Silver Weeping Birch in the front yard.  Each house in the neighborhood differed from the rest. 

There was a 25 foot long living room with a fire place — french doors to a side porch.  The dining room had a huge hand painted scene that blended with the wallpaper.  It was just an outline and was muted enough not to be distracting.  The Master bedroom was 18 feet long.  with a full bath and walk-in closet.  There were two other bedrooms, much smaller.  The house had a second full bath upstairs and a half bath in the breakfast room downstairs.  The kitchen was quaint, but there was barely room for the fridge.  There was a detached garage with a basketball hoop on the front of it.  Mary Ann loved that there was a basketball hoop out there.   There was something about being able to shoot hoops that she liked. 

The old stone basement had a little water in it at times, but it was no major problem.  There were some very entertaining camel back or cave crickets in the basement.  The house was solid as a rock.  It had shifted as much as it was going to shift decades earlier.  The plaster in a couple of ceilings was in bad shape, but both were repaired for about a hundred dollars.

Early on we remodeled the kitchen just a little, taking the wall to the breakfast room out, putting in sliding glass doors and adding a deck.  Those changes allowed much more space in the kitchen area.  We removed five layers of wallpaper from the walls, patched and sanded.  The walls were in almost perfect shape.  We heard about a fellow who would refinish wood floors.  We tore up the wall to wall carpets and found a beautiful white oak floor with red oak stairs. 

We enclosed the side porch into a multipurpose space.  A parishioner who was very skilled as a carpenter did much of the work, trading labor with me.  Dick did the carpentry for me and I helped him on his Mother’s farm.  At that time his labor would have been $16 an hour, and farm hand more like $3 an hour labor.  It sounds like a good deal at first glance.  Have you ever put up hay in 94 degree weather?  If you have, you know whereof I speak.  I almost died!  Well, maybe not quite that bad. 

Mary Ann made curtains and always had an eye for color.  The house was wonderful.  We felt very much at home there.  Mary Ann put in a little garden near the garage and used branches from the pussy willow for stakes at the ends of the rows.  The garden did not do well, the stakes thrived.  We had little pussy willows growing at the end of each row.   There was a tiny oak tree sapling that sprouted in that garden a few feet from the garage.  Mary Ann refused to let me pull it out.  I carefully explained that it was too close to the garage.  We drove by that house a couple of years ago.  In the intervening thirty some years it has grown into a tall and perfectly shaped oak tree.  The Silver Maple saplings we planted in the front yard had grown from the seeds of the neighbor’s tree.  When we went by that same time, they were huge trees.  The Monkey Grass we brought from Ron and June’s front yard in Memphis decades ago is still covering the terrace. 

I remember Jack, next door.  He was a Great Dane who was so tall that when he got curious and jumped up, his head would be above the top of the six foot privacy fence.  When he went back down the air would catch his ears and they would fly up, looking very silly.  Of course, I fed the birds and squirrels there just as I do now.  If I dared to sit out on the deck too long, interfering with the squirrels eating the olives from the Russian olive tree, one of the squirrels would find a branch right over my head and drop squirrel turds on me.  His aim was remarkable.  We had brought ferns and Jack-in-the-pulpit and wild phlox plants from my folk’s place in the country in Northern Illinois and planted them on the north side of the house in the back yard.  They thrived there for all fifteen years. 

Near the end of the fifteen years there, Mary Ann and I spent three weeks painting the outside of that shake sided house.  We scraped, primed, put on two coats of paint in three colors on that two story house.  Mary Ann did the lower story and I did the upper story.  I also scraped, primed and painted the 22 windows (all 6 panes over one). 

I thought I would tell the story of that house in one post before going on to our lives during that time.  By the way, that house for which we paid $22,500 in 1972 was on the market in 2007 or 8, listing for $310,000 — location, location, location.  

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 5, 2010

News Leaked Out — It Hit the Fan

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I think it was Friend Jack, whom I had told on Friday, who mentioned it to some of his students on the next Tuesday.  I am not sure about that.  Later the Principal accused me of spreading the news.  I didn’t, but I didn’t deny it.  Did he think this would all happen in secret with no one finding out  what had occurred?

Apparently, the news spread like wildfire.  I suspect  was something like: “Did you hear that they fired Pastor Pete?”  The first time I realized just how far the news had spread was the next morning, Wednesday.  It was my turn to do chapel. The bell rang, the kids all gathered in the bleachers.  I walked out to begin the service.

I won’t ever forget that moment.  As I walked out, the kids started clapping and gave me a long standing ovation — 800-900 kids can make a lot of noise.  I can’t begin to describe the impact of that experience.

I have no idea what I said that day, other than the message I sought to give every time I stood there, that they are loved deeply just the way they are.  They are forgiven, filled with the transforming power of His love, able to grow into more than they ever thought possible.

One thing I figured out quickly was that I did not want to become the excuse for some sort of rebellious behavior by the students.  Remember, this was the early 70’s.  The volatile 1960’s were fresh in our memories. I was very proud of the way the Kids responded.  The Student Council set up a table in the hallway outside the office.  They had paper, envelops and stamps along with a list of the School Board members. There were no sit-ins.

It was discovered quickly, that the Principal had acted unilaterally in making the decision.  He had not consulted the Personnel Committee.  He and one of the influential members of the Board had collaborated on the decision.  That member of the Board, oddly, had asked to come to my classroom one day to show some slides and make a presentation to a class of Seniors.  It was the first day of a semester.  The classroom had 39 students in it.  Since the classroom was remodeled for a seminar approach, the chairs were not in straight rows with each one sitting with hands folded.  While the approach had provided some stimulating learning experiences, I can only guess that the room was not orderly enough for him.  The school had actually been structured as an all male military academy when that School Board Member had gone through it many years before.

The Board finally met and invited me to come in.  There were questions of all sorts.  There was nothing said that indicated anything that I had said or done that was not acceptable.  The Board did ultimately vote to renew my contract.

Before the decision was made to renew my contract, the kids at school gathered names on a petition totaling 688 of the 800-900 students.  Six area Pastors came in to meet with the Principal and/or the Board asking that the decision be reconsidered.  Apparently one very elderly retired Pastor had heard about the Communion Service with the Passing of the Peace in it and decided that there had been “hugging and kissing and rolling on the floor.”  There certainly was some hugging, but I did not see any kissing or rolling on the floor.

All this while, Mary Ann was taking care of Lisa, dealing with a pregnancy, wondering what would happen to us when the salary stopped and I had no job.

I was offered a contract for the next year.  The Principal had a long list of conditions, such as having my lesson plans in advance for him to review.  The list contained nothing other than things that seemed intended to make teaching much more tedious in hopes that I would just leave.

In the mean time, a congregation sent me a letter asking me to come and interview for the position of Assistant Pastor with responsibilities primarily in the area of Youth and Education.

Do you remember that terribly unfair judgment the students made about Kansas and Nebraska when Call day came, when I had refused to take a Call?   The return address on the envelop said, “Prairie Village, Kansas.”  What popped in my mind was an arid, flat, virtual desert with a little old rural town in it.  That is not what I found.

I flew into the downtown Kansas City, Missouri airport in the spring of 1972.  The Senior Pastor picked me up and drove me down Ward Parkway to the church.  Ward Parkway in spring in Kansas City is one of the prettiest places to be found.  The crabapple trees and redbud trees were in full bloom.  There were blooming flowers filling the boulevard areas.  We had passed through the Spanish Architecture of the Plaza.  The trees and hills were so lush that they dominated the view.

Johnson County, Kansas, the county in which the church was located had been ranked the first or second most affluent county in the nation the two years before.  More than that.  When I met with a room of about 35 leaders of the congregation, the tone, the attitude and the words made clear that these people actually had caught sight of the heart of the message of the Gospel.  The were not just about the institution, but about making a difference in the lives of real people.  I was shocked and surprised after my last experience with the parish.

Now came the dilemma.  Do I leave the high school and abandon the Kids who had gone to bat for me?   What I was being Called to in Prairie Village seemed to be a perfect fit.  I had not been prepared to teach, but I had been prepared to be a Pastor in a church.  I decided that my presence at the high school would simply be a lightning rod, providing a distraction from the problems that needed work.  It seemed to me that I would be more effective in the parish.  I could deal with the Kids while also being able to know and minister to their parents.

I accepted the Call to Prairie Village.  Finishing out the year turned out to be quite an experience.  At Graduation, the Salutatorian’s speech was an affirmation of my ministry.  Jenny spoke in a way that must have irritated the Principal and those who wanted me gone.  Her words warmed my heart.  Then, Tom, the Valedictorian included remarks affirming the effectiveness of my ministry at the high school.  Those two had a great deal of courage to dare to speak so boldly.  I have never forgotten.

Those weeks the roller coaster moved down and up at breakneck speed.  I went from the low of being fired, deeply concerned about how Mary Ann and Lisa and the new baby would survive, feeling like a failure as a husband and father —  to being affirmed so powerfully, that I could hardly believe what I was hearing.  I have always felt grateful to those Kids for what they did.  They nurtured my personal faith and gave me much more than I had given them.

The next step bought us to some of the best years together.  It was not long before the volatile nature of some disagreements in our national church body intruded into the parish life.  Life was never boring in our years together.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 4, 2010

It was a Friday in April of 1972

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Family, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Sources of Strength, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , |
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Mary Ann, Lisa and I spent two summers at Camp Beaumont outside of Ashtabula, Ohio.  We packed up enough of our belongings in a U Haul trailor to live in a one bedroom log cabin for each of two summers.  Milt was one of three of us on the faculty who hung out together.  Milt was the art teacher.  He went on to become the head of the Art Department of a college in Nebraska.  Milt was also active in Scouts.  He convinced me to take a summer job as the Catholic, Protestant and Jewish chaplain of a large Scout Camp of some 1200 acres, with 36 sites for troops.

There was a little ring of six or eight cabins for the staff of the camp.  Mary Ann and Lisa hung out with the other families while I ate with the troops, explaining the Religious Awards.  Almost every meal was hot dogs and beans, except for the Jewish troops, who served Kosher hot dogs and beans.

The second summer I bought a bicycle for $3 at a garage sale and road it all summer long.  I had calves of steel that summer.  Poor Lisa got poison Ivy once from the socks I wore with the Scout shorts.  The cabins were simple and very rustic.  It really was a very pleasant setting.  Since we were so close, we made it to Niagara Falls for a visit.  There was a classmate there who took us out to a nice Seafood restaurant to have a leisurely paced meal at a very nice restaurant.  We visited a mushroom farm which was really fascinating.  We ate or put in the freezer package after package of white button mushrooms.

When we were visiting our families in Aurora the Christmas of 1971, driving to my parents house, some smoke came from under the dash.  We never found out what it was, but it was a little unsettling.  After we got to my parents’ house where we had been staying, Mary Ann started feeling badly.  In fact, she began to become rigid as in a mild seizure.

I took her to the Emergency Room in a small nearby hospital.  The doctor had a thick German accent and was about as arrogant and rude a person as we had ever encountered.  He simply decided that we had been arguing and she had gotten so upset that she reacted physically.  It was not so, but he did not believe us and looked for no other explanation.  The next day we went to the doctor we had both grown up with in Aurora.  He put Mary Ann on an anti-seizure medicine as a precaution.  We later discovered that at that time Mary Ann was in the first weeks of being pregnant with our Son.  I guessed that somehow that triggered it, but I have often wondered if that event could have triggered the Parkinson’s.  The literature on Parkinson’s would allow a brain trauma of some sort as a triggering event.

With a second child on the way, we realized that the little house we were  renting would not be big enough for four of us.  We started looking for a house to buy.  We decided to consider a duplex in hopes that the rent from the second unit would help pay for it.

On a Tuesday in April we put $500 down as earnest money on a duplex.  It was the Friday of that week, Mary Ann four months pregnant, a contract out on our first house that Principal Gunther (Gint) asked for an appointment.

Here is how he said it.  We need a new head of the Religion Department and you are not yet ready for that.  We will not be renewing your contract next year.  You need to start seeking a Call (job offer) someplace else.

It was as if the floor had just dropped away, and there was nothing there on which to stand.  (Why do I resonate to that description again now?)  I had to go home and tell Mary Ann that once more, she was pregnant and I had no job.  I called the realtor, who, gratefully, was able to get the $500 check back.

I can only guess that Mary Ann was probably wondering again what she had gotten herself into when she married me.  She had the decency not to say it out loud to me.

When I had left the Principal’s office I went to talk with the other of the three of us who hung out together, Jack.  Jack taught English, but his passion was Drama.  He went on to the English/Drama department at a College in St. Paul, Minnesota.

I have no memory of that weekend and the beginning of that next week.  I do, however, have vivid memories of what started that next Wednesday.

Enough of that for today.

I am now writing from Louisville, Kentucky.  I have been here since Friday evening.  It is good be with Lisa and the Girls and Denis.  It was painful to leave the house Friday morning.  I usually love getting on the road and driving somewhere.  There has been an exhilaration, a freedom I have always felt out on the open road.  I had no such feelings.  It seemed as if I was leaving her behind.  Someone who had lost a spouse recently said that she doesn’t like being away from the house and gets anxious to be home, and then she doesn’t want to be at home when she gets there.  I understand.

It felt very different to be traveling without the constant apprehension about needing to find a bathroom and dealing with taking her into the women’s rest room.  Ironically, the rest area I stopped at in southern Indiana, had a Unisex bathroom.  Now I don’t need it.

It has been good here to be with the Kids and Grandkids.  It is easier not to be dealing with the challenges of stairs and bathrooms and wheelchairs, but I would do it in a minute if I had the chance to have her back.

Yesterday I stopped at Walgreen’s to get a birthday card for Lisa, whose birthday is today, the Fourth of July.  Do you have any idea how many “to Daughter” cards there are that say “from Mother?”  It caught my insides as I tried to pick out a card — something we would have done together.  I picked one that was from both of us.

Yesterday evening was a party that Lisa and Denis had arranged with many of their friends.  Some of them had already met Mary Ann and me in the past.  Lisa and Denis have a wonderful group of friends that function sort of as a local family.  I enjoyed the evening since conversation is a helpful   to me.  There were Kids playing everywhere.  It was entertaining to watch.

Today, Sunday, it was clear from the moment that I woke up, that it would be an uncomfortable day.  I didn’t realize how much I would struggle to keep it together later.  I find the worship services at Lisa and Denis’s church to be very meaningful.  They do a full liturgy, but in a relaxed and welcoming way, rather than a formal way .

Todd who does the music is a real gem.  His work at the keyboard is reverent and accessible.  There may be jazz, classical, or any number of different styles, always perfectly done.  Pastor Paul preaches using lots of visuals, mostly images of great art pieces.  The service is on a large video screen at the front of the church.

Today the service and message were on healing.  The wording of almost everything was not only very compatible with my current need, it spoke almost directly to it.  In many traditions anointing with oil is a liturgical practice intended to bring an awareness of God’s healing into a person’s consciousness.  Today, just before the end of the service the option of going to the rear of the Nave to receive a bit of oil on one’s forehead and a prayer by one or both of those at the station.  It is not done in a magical way but in a way that draws to together the pain and the healing presence of the Lord’s love.

I decided to take advantage of that opportunity.  By the time I returned to my seat, tears were streaming down my cheeks.  I worked hard at trying to keep it from being too obvious and distracting to others.  Lisa was crying quietly when she returned too.  The girls were watching us as attentively.

I was able to talk with folks again after the service.  There were some good conversations with some very interesting people.  During the rest of the day, we did some shopping, had coffee, ate out, sang happy birthday and came home to rest.

Denis and I went shopping at Best Buy and I ended up buying a laptop computer so that when I am traveling I can continue writing.    By the way, I am continuing to work on the thank you notes.  They have all been written, but they now need to be addressed, sealed and stamped.

I stayed back from the trip to see fireworks tonight so that I could get a head start on writing.  Now, I need to get some rest. (Too tired to edit the post, it is gong out as is.)

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

July 2, 2010

Quilters Tell Racy Jokes

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They laughed and laughed, and then they laughed some more.  The worst one of them was 94 years old.  She told the raciest jokes.  I loved going in there to talk with them.  They were just a couple of doors away from my “office” which was some sort of storage room in the basement of the church.  We used the quilt they gave us when we left until it was worn through and in tatters.  Mary Ann salvaged parts of it and made a vest, a number of place mats and lots of Christmas tree ornaments in the shape of little stockings.  When we cleaned out the closet ten days ago, we found a piece of it in a plastic bag hanging from a hanger.

My salary that year (1967-8) was $250 per month with a $25 auto allowance.  We managed to live on that and save Mary Ann’s entire salary at the bank for the last year of school (1968-9).

We, of course, immediately located the best ice cream place in town, Atz’s.  Actually, I had already discovered it a couple of years earlier when I attended Concordia Senior College there before entering the Seminary.  I remember the Sundae having three scoops of chocolate mint chip ice cream, with lava flows of hot fudge running down each scoop, heaped on top with nuts, whipped cream and a cherry.  I remember it being called a turtle sundae.  I wish Mary Ann was still here to help me remember that accurately.  Suffice it to say, we made very regular trips to Atz’s.

The Saturday before my very first time in public, leading worship, Mary Ann gave me a hair cut so that I would make a good first impression.  I am not sure what caused it to happen, but her hand slipped or I moved my head.  The electric clippers cut a swath from my temple to my ear, down to the skin.  I had a lot of hair, so the contrasting pink skin on the side of my head stood out in comparison to the dark, thick hair.  The solution?? An eyebrow pencil, of course.  She drew in the hair that was missing.  That worked when my face was turned to the side, but the notch was clear when looking at my face from straight on.

My first impression became irrelevant since the Pastor I was serving went into the hospital for tests the following Tuesday and remained there for a month.  I preached, made 75 hospital calls, attended all the meetings, ministered to the dying, taught classes.  In fact, I remember very clearly how irritated I was when he returned and took over my congregation.  It was a wonderful baptism of fire.  I had no time to be scared.  I just had to do whatever needed to be done.

The Vicarage (Internship) from hell part is harder to explain.  The Pastor was obsessive compulsive about record keeping and monthly reporting to the Elders, down to how many pieces of incoming mail and outgoing mail we processed and how many incoming and outgoing phone calls we made.  The Pastor was hopelessly racist and talked often in ways that were intolerable.  By the way, the grade he would give me counted for twelve hours of credit and would make or break the option of graduating.  He admitted that the congregation didn’t like him.  I actually provided a sort of therapeutic setting for him when we met to talk.  His approach to ministry seemed completely empty of what I understood Christianity to be about.  In fact, my experience there convinced me that it would be a waste of time to serve a congregation since there was no evidence that the message we were about was expressed in any way that I could see there. That is the part that ended up impacting Mary Ann and me later.

That was a year when Star Trek hit the airwaves.  Not only did I get caught up in it, but another Vicar (Intern) assigned to Ft. Wayne, Lyle, did too.  Mary Ann just laughed at us as we sat at the kitchen table and meticulously glued together our respective models of the Enterprise.

One of my worst moments came that year.  It only happened once, but it happened.  A student from the Senior College who played the organ for us that year came over.  We splurged and ate out.  There was a Manhattan before dinner, wine with dinner, a Liqueur after dinner.  Then after taking Mary Ann home, Paul wanted to take me to a favorite bar to have some sort of Martini made with a chocolate liqueur, I think.  Then he bought me a Rusty Nail.  My taste buds were so numb, I drank it down like a soft drink.  When we got home, I remember needing to stay very close to the wall as I walked in.  We have one of the best photographs I have ever taken of Paul sitting on the couch next to Mary Ann.  I have absolutely no memory of taking that picture.  I do remember the next few hours hugging a large white porcelain repository into which large quantities of the contents of my stomach were deposited — seemingly much more than I had consumed.  Did I mention that Mary Ann’s Mother was visiting us at that time?  I found out some time, that since I was camping out next to that porcelain receptacle with the door to the bathroom locked, she had to pee in a tin can.  We are none of us perfect!!

That Christmas we were not going to get a tree, but finally, we just had to get one.  We found one for 50 cents that we put on the top of a round book shelf that was Mary Ann’s table sitting next to her until days before the end when she could no longer sit up.  That tree helped establish our tradition of finding the most pitiful tree we could get and decorating it for Christmas (a Charlie Brown Tree).  Our kids gave us much grief over the years at our choice of Christmas Trees.

That is the year we got to know Roger and Jan.  Roger was another Vicar assigned to a church in Ft. Wayne.  They ended up the next year becoming Lisa’s Godparents. Roger and Jan loved dogs, especially Poodles.   There little Poodle, Happy, gave birth to a litter of pups, all who were registered and soon had their papers.  Mary Ann fell in love with one of the little puppies.  We named her MAT’s Happy Suzette. She was a ball of fur with stubby little legs who became the grumpiest Poodle on the planet.  She will be a central character in a post to come about the birth of our first child, Lisa.

One ironic note on the congregation I served from July 1967 to June 1968.  There was an old fellow, Ralph, who came around often.  I got to know him well.  He was great at dart ball (underhanded darts played competitively between church men’s groups).  Ralph had Parkinson’s Disease.  His huge lower lip hung down so that his gums showed and the drool ran and his dentures rattled.  On that account he could not talk very clearly.  He shuffled along and came by often.  I was never unkind to him.  We got along well, but I was grossed out by how he looked.  When I got the phone call that Mary Ann had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, the vision of Ralph came immediately to mind.  In all her years with Parkinson’s, Mary Ann always remained pretty.  I found her as desirable at the end as I found her at the beginning of our relationship.  The soft kisses that we savored when standing in front of the fridge only a few weeks ago were as sweet as any we shared in all our years.  I miss her terribly.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

June 30, 2010

No Money Left for Shuttle Home

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Relationship Issues, Uncategorized | Tags: , , |
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We traveled on through the black forest.  We followed a river back up to its source at the top of a pass, where we got out and threw snowballs at one another.  Then we followed the trickle of snow down the other side of the pass until it grew as waterfalls from melting snow tumbled over the rocks alongside adding more and more to it until it was a rushing river on the other side of the mountains.  In the  valley, we saw and visited the picturesque town of Oberammergau, the site of the passion play that was performed every ten years.

The bus took us through Lichtenstein, where we had the best meal on the trip, good sausage and trimmings.  By the time the trip was over, none of us could look a Wiener Schnitzel in the face.  Almost every meal was breaded veal, boiled potatoes and peas and carrots.  If we tried to order a glass of water and said the German word for water, wasser, we were brought sparkling mineral water. There was never any ice to be found.  Alas, we had to drink wine and beer.  The beer was one Mark a for a half liter, 25 cents, American.

In Austria, we could look out of our hotel room at a lake across the street bordered on the other side by mountains with puffy clouds hanging half way between the surface of the lake and the peak of the mountains.  We shopped in Switzerland and finally ended up at the airport in Belgium.

When we arrived in the airport in New York City, the plane had been delayed long enough that we missed our flight to St. Louis.  The airline gave us vouchers for a meal at a very nice restaurant in the airport while we waited. I had a huge steak about the size of what we used to call an arm roast.

It was either at the Washington airport when we were on the way to Europe, or in the New York airport on the way back that we ran into a family with a large and very friendly dog that we took time to pet.  The family the dog was with was Bobby Kennedy, his wife and children.  This was in 1966, between his Brother John F. Kennedy’s assasination and his own in 1968.

Finally, we landed in the St. Louis airport.  We had cut things too close as we managed our limited dollars very carefully but apparently not carefully enough.  The cost of the shuttle ride from the airport back to our apartment was $6.00.  We didn’t have that much.  We were stranded.

Hilton and Trudy Oswald came to our rescue.  They were a cute, older but very energetic couple who had come along on the trip with us.  We had hung out with them sometimes, especially since Hilton could speak German fluently.  They piled our luggage and us into their old Mercedes and drove us to our apartment.  It was not too far from their home.

The next week in St. Louis it was about as hot as it had ever been.  We never lived anywhere that was hotter and more humid than St. Louis.  There was a strong smell of yeast in the air constantly from all the breweries.  That week there was a temperature inversion.  The pollutants were kept from blowing away.  The air was yellow.  The temperature was 106 degrees for six days in a row.  Our apartment was, of course, not air conditioned.  We would open the windows of the bedroom, as well as the ones in the living room to get a cross breeze.  We slept in our underwear.  We would lie on our backs until they were adequately sweaty.  Then we would turn over and let the air movement very slowly dry the wet side, while the other side got sweaty.

Now there is the matter of the rent.  We had left enough in the bank to pay that first month’s rent when we returned from Europe.  The bank that before we left for Europe had told Mary Ann there would be no job waiting for her when we returned, did have her job available.  With both of us working full time, we were able to get back on course, paying the rent and saving for school in the fall.

We had very little money in those years.  We were dirt poor, along with all the rest of the seminarians, especially the growing number of those who had gotten married.  I don’t know that we felt poor.  Wonders could be done with hot dogs and creamed corn or macaroni.  Popcorn was cheap.  When we wanted to party after classes on Friday, one couple would bring the limes and the tonic water, the other couple a bottle of cheap Gin and we would relax with Gin and Tonics.

Mary Ann was able to earn a little extra money by babysitting for a couple with a toddler.  The parents got a pretty good deal.  We had one car, a gray 1956 Chevy with stick shift.  Mary Ann refused to learn to drive a stick shift.  That meant that the parents got two for the price of one, which was 75 cents an hour.

One time the parents of the toddler asked Mary Ann if she would be willing to babysit their son at the grandparents’ home.  She got the directions to the house and we headed out searching for it.  They were confusing directions, but we managed to find it.  It was a huge house on many acres of land.  There was an airplane sitting in an area beside the lane that led to the house.

We had been instructed to go to a room over the garage.  The room was outfitted as a playroom.   When we had mentioned the name of the Grandparent’s to someone, they wondered if it could be the J. S. McDonnell who owned McDonnell – Douglas aircraft.  It was!  He had been on the cover of Time Magazine not long before.  At that time, his income for one year had been $90,000,000 (yes, 90 million).  This was in the late 1960’s.

That number is relevant to what happened when the grandparents returned, and it was time to settle up.  I can remember Mary Ann and I standing beside the cooking island in the kitchen as we totaled the bill for the four hours.  At 75 cents an hour, the total was $3.00.  Mrs. McDonnell had a $5 bill.  She waited until Mary Ann searched her purse and billfold, and I searched my pockets for what seemed like an eternity to come up with the $2.00 in change.  No wonder he had $90,000,000.  He kept every penny he earned.  At the risk of being very politically incorrect, did I mention that McDonnell is a Scottish name.

As the story continues, the Vicarage (Internship) from Hell comes next.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

 

June 30, 2010

Memorial in Aurora, Illinois — More Tears

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Family, Help from Others, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , |
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Plans are in place.  There will first be a memorial service at 11am on Saturday, July 10, in the Krentz Chapel at Our Savior Lutheran church, 420 Downer Place in Aurora.  The street in front is being repaired.  At the back of the church, accessed from the street that runs behind the church (parallel to Downer) is parking.  There are many stairs to the chapel from the back parking.  Those who cannot do stairs should be dropped off at the front of the church and park in back.  I am sure we can find folks who would be willing to park the car for you if need be.

Following the service, we will drive to Reuland’s to eat (serving begins at noon) and share Mary Ann stories.  I hope everyone will come to that meal and sharing time.  Let Gayle Marshall, Diana Zajicek or Joy Miller Kratsch know that you plan to come to Reuland’s.  If you don’t know one of those three, just let me know via Face Book or the Comment section of this blog that you are coming. It would please Mary Ann and will please me for you to come.  The address of Reuland’s is: 115 Oak Avenue, Aurora, IL 60506.

Krentz Chapel is named in memory of Pastor Paul Krentz.  Pastor Krentz Baptized  us as infants and Confirmed both Mary Ann and me around the age of fourteen.  Pastor Paul and Ruth Krentz were Mary Ann’s Godparents.  Pastor Krentz married Mary Ann and me.  He ordained me into the ministry. I am named after his Son Pete Krentz.  The chapel is located within feet of the chancel in which all those ceremonies were held.

I will bring the DVD of aobut 40 pictures of Mary Ann over the years to be shown at Reuland’s.  Tonight I realized that one of the tracks on the CD of the funeral here contains all three of the solos that were sung.  I listened to that section of the service with two of the readings and the solos.  The tears came.  This morning, I felt so good as to think I had turned a corner in the grieving.  I may have turned a corner, but there were tears to be found around that corner.

I will also bring that CD so that we can hear the solos in the service.  Two of the solos are sung by Kristen Watson who grew up in the congregation I served before I retired.  She has a blossoming career, singing in a variety of venues, including serving as a soloist on occasion for the Boston Pops.  She has a classical lyric soprano voice, but is very versatile, able to perform in musicals as well.  I have not heard a more beautiful soprano voice.

I just realized something a few minutes ago.  I preached at the funeral of Mary Ann’s Brother Roger.  I preached at the funeral of Mary Ann’s Brother Tom.  I preached at the memorial service held in Aurora for Mary Ann’s Mom, Lois.  Now I am leading Mary Ann’s Memorial Service.  Yesterday I looked at the picture taken at our wedding of Mary Ann and me in a line with both our sets of parents.  I remember when that picture was given to my Mom at her 90th birthday party.  She cried, realizing that she was the only one left of the four parents in that picture.  I preached at my Mom’s funeral.  It hit me that I am now the only one left of all six people in that picture.  I Have I mentioned yet that I don’t like this?

I had a great morning today.  The Spiritual Formation Group met on the deck in perfect weather, with the birds entertaining us and the sound of the waterfall calming us.  The conversation was helpful to me at this point in my Spiritual journey.  I walked at Cedarcrest, feeling energized by the exercise and exhilirated by the setting.  I enjoyed a lunch with a good friend who brings both wisdom and a listening ear to our time together.  I enjoyed an afternoon coffee time with a former parishioner who gave me some food for thought.

Two or three times today I mentioned that it seemed as if in the last two days I had turned a corner in the grieving process to a place in which the pain had become more manageable, had found a place that freed me to be okay again.  Every time I said it, I qualified it with the observation that the pain could come back at any time without warning.  That observation was prophetic.  I could feel it creeping back into my conscious awareness as the afternoon wore on.  By this evening, it broke through.  It is far from the intensity of last Sunday.  I am grateful for that.  The tears and this writing have allowed it to calm for the moment.

I intend to write more tonight on the story of Mary Ann’s and my life together, so I will end this now and get to the next chapter in that story.  Tomorrow morning very early, Pastor Jim and I will spend a couple of hours doing some birding in the area.  I had better start of the next post so that I can get to bed soon.

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