I am reflecting on The Glenmary Farm through the lens of a playlist of songs that have a strong connection to my time there. The playlist is called Peace Came And Stayed and can be found in its entirety on Spotify:
3) I'll Fly Away - Allison Krauss/ Gillian Welch off O Brother Where Art Thou (Soundtrack)
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Peace Came And Stayed Track 2: Furr by Blitzen Trapper
I am reflecting on The Glenmary Farm through the lens of a playlist of songs that have a strong connection to my time there. The playlist is called Peace Came And Stayed and can be found in its entirety on Spotify:
2) Furr- Blitzen Trapper off Furr
So if you're gonna' get made,
Don't be afraid of what you've learned
I think I may have played this one a few times during reflection. Aside from being a great song, I'd like to think it's a nice parallel to the journey that volunteers going to The Farm often take. The song chronicles the story of a man who is lured into the woods by the sound of Angels and slowly becomes fused with the woodlands around him. His skin turns to fur and he becomes almost wild. But he is eventually brought out of his reverie and his forest home. His fur once again turns to skin and he enters into this world he no longer knows, still dreaming of running through the forest again.
I think there is something a little primal about the Farm experience. The charism of Simplicity that's so pervasive is literally a stripping away of all the worldly trappings and distractions to get to the heart of the human experience. Some of my favorite experiences at The Farm revolve around God's Time Room. Some simple couches, a couple chairs, and a bevy of board games were all that comprised that place, but there was something a little magical about the way that room encouraged true human connection. The absence of clocks and the need or even the knowledge of having somewhere to be was, at first, a disorienting experience. The Farm throws into stark relief just how beholden we are to our schedules. We start counting our experience in minutes that only gain meaning because they signal when we should move on to whatever it is we are doing next- ery Prufrockian. Given the chance to hang out with friends, we so often (intentionally or not) choose to keep intact the roadblocks that prevent a truly deep and meaningful connection. Whether it's our choice of venue (crowded bar), our choice of activity (playing video games, seeing a movie) or just that fact that we all-too-often give into the temptation of having a small computer in our front pocket, its often hard to focus on the people around us.
Now, those previously mentioned places, and activities, and even the cell phones aren't inherently evil. But it can be a struggle to remained actively engaged among all the activity of our lives. So even during times where we may want to connect with others, we can be our own worst enemy.
But at The Farm, given the chance to live with those we are serving and serving with, this beautiful, collective slow-down happens. Without that pressure of where to be next, we start appreciating where we ARE, and that's where the transformation begins. Now every moment, every interaction, becomes infused with presence. Where you would be side-glanced to all hell if you suggested a night of playing Canasta to your friends, here it becomes a wonderful opportunity to laugh, share, and connect. And through this, every moment becomes one of service. There is not distinction between construction work where you put up insulation in the Kentucky heat and the UNO game you share at the end of the day. The skin turns to fur and you begin to feel a little more of the moment, than merely experiencing it.
Unfortunately, for all of us, that can only be temporary. Something has to interrupt our reverie, bringing us out of the wilderness. Now we are ushered into this world we do not know but our time in the woods was real. We've been in this world of deep connection and presence that clashes mightily with the fast paced reality of life beyond the Farm. It's a jarring experience, and an unpleasant one to return to a life that now feels harsh and confused, like trying to speak a foreign language. And so I think a lot of us end up dreaming of running careless through the snow. But I think the last line of the song is one to remember. So if you're gonna get made/ Don't be afraid of what you learned. The lessons of the Farm are meant to be taken out of the physical place. It may be difficult to carry them out, but we can't shy away from the gifts bestowed upon us there. We're called to take a little of that wild back with us.
2) Furr- Blitzen Trapper off Furr
So if you're gonna' get made,
Don't be afraid of what you've learned
I think I may have played this one a few times during reflection. Aside from being a great song, I'd like to think it's a nice parallel to the journey that volunteers going to The Farm often take. The song chronicles the story of a man who is lured into the woods by the sound of Angels and slowly becomes fused with the woodlands around him. His skin turns to fur and he becomes almost wild. But he is eventually brought out of his reverie and his forest home. His fur once again turns to skin and he enters into this world he no longer knows, still dreaming of running through the forest again.
I think there is something a little primal about the Farm experience. The charism of Simplicity that's so pervasive is literally a stripping away of all the worldly trappings and distractions to get to the heart of the human experience. Some of my favorite experiences at The Farm revolve around God's Time Room. Some simple couches, a couple chairs, and a bevy of board games were all that comprised that place, but there was something a little magical about the way that room encouraged true human connection. The absence of clocks and the need or even the knowledge of having somewhere to be was, at first, a disorienting experience. The Farm throws into stark relief just how beholden we are to our schedules. We start counting our experience in minutes that only gain meaning because they signal when we should move on to whatever it is we are doing next- ery Prufrockian. Given the chance to hang out with friends, we so often (intentionally or not) choose to keep intact the roadblocks that prevent a truly deep and meaningful connection. Whether it's our choice of venue (crowded bar), our choice of activity (playing video games, seeing a movie) or just that fact that we all-too-often give into the temptation of having a small computer in our front pocket, its often hard to focus on the people around us.
Now, those previously mentioned places, and activities, and even the cell phones aren't inherently evil. But it can be a struggle to remained actively engaged among all the activity of our lives. So even during times where we may want to connect with others, we can be our own worst enemy.
But at The Farm, given the chance to live with those we are serving and serving with, this beautiful, collective slow-down happens. Without that pressure of where to be next, we start appreciating where we ARE, and that's where the transformation begins. Now every moment, every interaction, becomes infused with presence. Where you would be side-glanced to all hell if you suggested a night of playing Canasta to your friends, here it becomes a wonderful opportunity to laugh, share, and connect. And through this, every moment becomes one of service. There is not distinction between construction work where you put up insulation in the Kentucky heat and the UNO game you share at the end of the day. The skin turns to fur and you begin to feel a little more of the moment, than merely experiencing it.
Unfortunately, for all of us, that can only be temporary. Something has to interrupt our reverie, bringing us out of the wilderness. Now we are ushered into this world we do not know but our time in the woods was real. We've been in this world of deep connection and presence that clashes mightily with the fast paced reality of life beyond the Farm. It's a jarring experience, and an unpleasant one to return to a life that now feels harsh and confused, like trying to speak a foreign language. And so I think a lot of us end up dreaming of running careless through the snow. But I think the last line of the song is one to remember. So if you're gonna get made/ Don't be afraid of what you learned. The lessons of the Farm are meant to be taken out of the physical place. It may be difficult to carry them out, but we can't shy away from the gifts bestowed upon us there. We're called to take a little of that wild back with us.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Peace Came And Stayed Track 1: Wildflowers by Tom Petty
Music has always been a source of comfort for me and an outlet of expression when I often don't have one. Now, I should clarify by saying that I cannot actually PLAY music. That takes actual hard work and effort. But I CAN listen the heck out of music. I like to think I have a decent ear for it and can sometimes strike the right mood or convey the right sentiment cribbing the hard work and self expression of those much more talented than I.
As Rob Gordon, in one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite movies, High Fidelity, says, "You're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing". While my current emotions and thoughts about The Farm's imminent closure are varied and vacillate, I thought it best to try and direct my thoughts and reflections through the making of a mixtape of sorts. I'm going to go through each track one by one on the blog but if you want to listen to the whole list, it is on Spotify:
1) Wildflowers- Tom Petty off Wildflowers
Far away from your trouble and worry,
You belong somewhere you feel free
Those volunteers that came down to The Farm during my time will likely recognize this one. It was played as the entrance song as groups entered the chapel on the first night of reflection and so I think it's only appropriate that it starts this playlist. It was Jamie's suggestion during our first planning session. I don't know if Colleen had ever heard the song before, but I had not, only being familiar with Petty's more anthemic offerings. But much like the rest of our year would unfold, the three of us came to a quick agreement (perhaps relieved to have made a choice so quickly). McNicholas seemed pretty receptive to it. Looking back, I have to laugh because I don't think we could have picked a better match of song for chaperones than this one with Hutch and Sara. The next time during our planning meeting it seemed so natural once again to use the song...and a tradition of sorts was born.
It's a little weird to think of this titular song on a divorce album as the welcome song to The Farm but I guess context makes all the difference. Everything about this song reminds me about the peace of The Farm. The folky guitars and the jangling of the piano keys meander their way about, and I can almost hear the crickets singing us up to the chapel. And the central sentiment of this retreat to a very natural and peaceful freedom is just so perfect for what The Farm represents. It's this incredible oasis of peace in a hectic world. Turning down Lower Kinney Road did at times seem a little like time travel. It's like you were going back to a time where human connection and interaction were paramount and things like busy schedules and glowing screens only got in the way. It's pretty incredible what would happen during those weeks when we removed those self-imposed shackles. No longer worried about what was to come, we became enamoured with what was happening at that moment. It afforded us the opportunity to truly and deeply connect with those we encountered and made it so that people we knew for a week became fast friends. This incredible Presence is something I cherish and something I strive toward (often unsuccessfully) as often as I can. I think that for me, the idea and image of Wildflowers is forever linked to those intense and energizing feelings of true connection.
There's another important aspect to the song and that's the feeling of belonging. It's the confirmation that you, yes YOU, belong in this place. You deserve to be among the beauty, the quiet, and the peace. I think in a society built on schedules and achievement, we becomes so hard on ourselves. Shortcomings become condemnation rather than constructive learning experiences and we work so hard to scrub out any sign of them. I think there is certainly value in learning and growing and moving onward and upward but I think we're so anxious to get past those moments that we often don't fully heal and don't fully forgive ourselves for them. But this song speaks to the idea that we do indeed deserve to be happy and at peace and we have a place we can do so.
I think The Farm functions as that place for many. It's a place to belong, regardless of who you may think you are or what you may think you deserve, The Farm, with its commitment to valuing connections with each person it encounters, affirms again and again that you belong in this place. I experienced it myself and saw it happen to countless other volunteers. The Farm is a pretty foreign concept to most. The rural setting, the pace of life, and the sometimes head scratching rules are unfamiliar on their face. But somehow you get this sense of rightness when you're there. I can still remember driving back from Construction when I was a volunteer in college, trying to decide what I was doing post graduation. And the more I thought about it, the more I could picture myself there, at The Farm. I found a place I belonged.
To this day, this song still has a centering quality for me. It's a reminder of days spent laughing, working, sharing, and being with others in the most intense way possible. It's a call to always be present, to always have fun, and to always love. It was such a blessing to be able to live in that for 14 months, 14 months where I got to be far away from trouble and worry and somewhere I felt free.
As Rob Gordon, in one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite movies, High Fidelity, says, "You're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing". While my current emotions and thoughts about The Farm's imminent closure are varied and vacillate, I thought it best to try and direct my thoughts and reflections through the making of a mixtape of sorts. I'm going to go through each track one by one on the blog but if you want to listen to the whole list, it is on Spotify:
1) Wildflowers- Tom Petty off Wildflowers
Far away from your trouble and worry,
You belong somewhere you feel free
Those volunteers that came down to The Farm during my time will likely recognize this one. It was played as the entrance song as groups entered the chapel on the first night of reflection and so I think it's only appropriate that it starts this playlist. It was Jamie's suggestion during our first planning session. I don't know if Colleen had ever heard the song before, but I had not, only being familiar with Petty's more anthemic offerings. But much like the rest of our year would unfold, the three of us came to a quick agreement (perhaps relieved to have made a choice so quickly). McNicholas seemed pretty receptive to it. Looking back, I have to laugh because I don't think we could have picked a better match of song for chaperones than this one with Hutch and Sara. The next time during our planning meeting it seemed so natural once again to use the song...and a tradition of sorts was born.
It's a little weird to think of this titular song on a divorce album as the welcome song to The Farm but I guess context makes all the difference. Everything about this song reminds me about the peace of The Farm. The folky guitars and the jangling of the piano keys meander their way about, and I can almost hear the crickets singing us up to the chapel. And the central sentiment of this retreat to a very natural and peaceful freedom is just so perfect for what The Farm represents. It's this incredible oasis of peace in a hectic world. Turning down Lower Kinney Road did at times seem a little like time travel. It's like you were going back to a time where human connection and interaction were paramount and things like busy schedules and glowing screens only got in the way. It's pretty incredible what would happen during those weeks when we removed those self-imposed shackles. No longer worried about what was to come, we became enamoured with what was happening at that moment. It afforded us the opportunity to truly and deeply connect with those we encountered and made it so that people we knew for a week became fast friends. This incredible Presence is something I cherish and something I strive toward (often unsuccessfully) as often as I can. I think that for me, the idea and image of Wildflowers is forever linked to those intense and energizing feelings of true connection.
There's another important aspect to the song and that's the feeling of belonging. It's the confirmation that you, yes YOU, belong in this place. You deserve to be among the beauty, the quiet, and the peace. I think in a society built on schedules and achievement, we becomes so hard on ourselves. Shortcomings become condemnation rather than constructive learning experiences and we work so hard to scrub out any sign of them. I think there is certainly value in learning and growing and moving onward and upward but I think we're so anxious to get past those moments that we often don't fully heal and don't fully forgive ourselves for them. But this song speaks to the idea that we do indeed deserve to be happy and at peace and we have a place we can do so.
I think The Farm functions as that place for many. It's a place to belong, regardless of who you may think you are or what you may think you deserve, The Farm, with its commitment to valuing connections with each person it encounters, affirms again and again that you belong in this place. I experienced it myself and saw it happen to countless other volunteers. The Farm is a pretty foreign concept to most. The rural setting, the pace of life, and the sometimes head scratching rules are unfamiliar on their face. But somehow you get this sense of rightness when you're there. I can still remember driving back from Construction when I was a volunteer in college, trying to decide what I was doing post graduation. And the more I thought about it, the more I could picture myself there, at The Farm. I found a place I belonged.
To this day, this song still has a centering quality for me. It's a reminder of days spent laughing, working, sharing, and being with others in the most intense way possible. It's a call to always be present, to always have fun, and to always love. It was such a blessing to be able to live in that for 14 months, 14 months where I got to be far away from trouble and worry and somewhere I felt free.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
A Morning at Wild Woman's
Long term volunteers at The Glenmary Farm are actually Americorps volunteers, which means we are entitled to an Americorps scholarship reward at the end of our time. As part of the Americorps requirements, we had to submit what they called a "Great Story". It is essentially an open reflection on an aspect of our time as an Americorps member that affected us or encapsulated our experience. I chose to focus on an experience that sticks with many volunteers- their visit with Wild Woman.
Thus begins a morning with Edith “Wild Woman” Smith. What ensues is the epitome of hospitality and
love. She has had a relationship with
the Glenmary Farm since 1989/1990 and has welcomed over 11,000 first time visitors
into her home (and quite a few return guests). Each of those 11,000 experiences
a morning filled with jokes, advice, pictures, cow feeding, laughter, and
love.
She became something of a grandmother figure during my
time at The Farm. She sees the Farm as a
part of her family and takes the Farm Managers under her wing. She would call to warn us of any bad weather
headed our way or any particularly good deals at the local grocery stores. Being in a rural setting far from home, it was
reassuring to know someone was always looking out for you. She invited us over countless of times to
watch the reality show du jour- whether it was Survivor, Big Brother, or
Amazing Race- always followed by marveling at the various concoctions on The
Food Network. But the moments I enjoyed
the most were those spent on her porch just “shootin’ the bull” as she would
say. It was in these moments I could
really focus and absorb the tremendous gift that she represents. The love in her eyes and heart radiated out
from her as she told us about her childhood or past Farm groups, weaving us into
the beautiful tapestry that is her extraordinary life. Those moments resonate with me as I look back
on my year of Americorps service because they represent the essence of
service. It is the extension of heart
and hand to a stranger until they become family.
A Morning at Wild
Woman’s
“This is old Weasel Evans.
He used to be down at the Fly Branch, where we used to go for country
music. One day he asked me to dance so I
picked him up, twirled him around, set him back down, and told him that’s the best I
could do. The Colonel’s wife told him
‘You need to find yourself a woman like that’ but he said “Oh no, she’s too
wild for me! She’d throw me through a
barn door.’ And that’s how I became the
Wild Woman of Trace Creek.”
Thus begins a morning with Edith “Wild Woman” Smith. What ensues is the epitome of hospitality and
love. She has had a relationship with
the Glenmary Farm since 1989/1990 and has welcomed over 11,000 first time visitors
into her home (and quite a few return guests). Each of those 11,000 experiences
a morning filled with jokes, advice, pictures, cow feeding, laughter, and
love.
The day begins with the opportunity to feed her cows. She keeps 5 or so cows on hand at a time
specifically for volunteers. The cows
quickly make their way over once they see the hay being brought out and begin
to crowd the fence, jockeying for position as the volunteers tear off pieces of
the thistle to dangle in front of them.
Only the most courageous of volunteers dare to feed them with their
mouths, chancing an encounter with the long, leathery tongues of the
bovines.
Once inside her home, volunteers read a series of jokes and
funny articles collected by Wild Woman over the years. They are a gathering of what we might
recognize as those annoying spam mail chain letters that our older relatives
insist on clogging our inboxes with to our chagrin. Our gut reaction is to banish things like
these to our trash bin. But the beauty
of a morning at Wild Woman’s is the ability to transform the commonplace or
mundane into a communal experience filled with joy. Of course, it is Wild Woman herself who helps
the transformation through her presence and attitude. She sits in a chair as the volunteers read
off her stories and jokes and laughs right alongside them. Her anticipatory giggles before an especially
funny line or her outright guffawing at a volunteer’s reaction punctuate the
proceedings.
At first, it can be difficult for volunteers to understand
why we bring them to visit Wild Woman. They
question where this falls in the spectrum of service and wonder whether, despite
the fact that she is a wonderful person, time might be better spent out
building houses for people. To be fair,
it can be difficult to grasp the abstract concept of ministry of presence for
some and while it is fundamental to the work that the Farm does, it is often
the last piece of the puzzle to fall into place for volunteers. Giving of one’s self, and the vulnerability
that comes with that means that a strong connection can be formed with those we
serve. She teaches this through her own
example and, in a magnanimous gesture, allows those who visit to do the
same for her. The idea that service can
be done as much in the living room of a 90 year old woman as it can be at a
construction site is an invaluable one. She
imparts the critical lesson that service is attitude as much as it is action on
every volunteer she meets. She sees
every person as an opportunity to encounter, to reach out and touch a life and
hopefully be affected in return. This is
a true gospel of Love, where her heart is always open to the heart of those she
meets and the world is always seen through those Love-tinted glasses. She is a paradigm for service and so she
becomes the perfect frame for the volunteers’ week of service at The Farm,
which is reason enough to visit her.
It’s amazing to think that she has heard the same jokes
hundreds and hundreds of times before because she is always so
enthusiastic. Every time seems like the
first time she has heard them because she takes so much joy in the joy of
others. The enjoyment of the volunteers
in turn becomes her own. And that is the wonderful life-giving cycle
of a morning at Wild Woman’s. She and
the volunteers engage in this dance of reciprocating joy. The volunteers get so much from sitting and
talking with her and she gets so much energy from talking with the volunteers. Maybe that’s why some volunteers have a hard
time associating that morning with service.
It all comes so easily and is a source of such joy that it doesn’t feel like service at all. At the end of it, both sides have cups that
runneth over. She often says “Half of
the time I’ve got patches on my britches, but who can say they have the
opportunity to meet people as beautiful and as wonderful as all of you?” I and the other 11,000 volunteers can certainly say the same about our time with her.
Friday, November 28, 2014
John Norman: Welcome To The Farm!!
In fact, we felt it was so perfect a welcome, that Jamie, Colleen and myself would read it to every subsequent group that came to The Farm during my time there. The Farm operates under the assumptions of the Archbishop Romero prayer, where service happens where it is needed and our part to play may be a small patch in a larger tapestry. We liked the idea of a past Farm group reaching out and welcoming the current one, much like how their week of work laid the groundwork for the current one's.
For the 3 of us, I think it had a very centering effect. No matter what was going on or how many groups we had in a row, hearing John Norman always snapped us back into Presence and keyed us into the wonderful gifts of The Farm. I know that as I spent more time on The Farm, it took on new meaning and I would latch onto different stanzas at different times. It was sort of this living and breathing guide through my year and I often find myself thinking about it as a way to center myself even now.
So with out further ado, here is John Norman's welcome (affectionately known as JNorm):
My Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ: Welcome to
the Farm!!!
Open your eyes and see the beautiful expansive sky,
blue by day and speckled with diamonds by night.
Open your eyes and see the dawn mist over the hills
and the countless spiders’ webs.
Open your ears and hear the birds singing in the
valley and the water rolling over the stones in the creek.
Open your ears and hear the chorus of insects
singing their nightly hymn as well as the dogs howling in the distance.
Open your heart to the presence of the Divine who
loves you in the midst of this valley.
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.
Open your eyes and see the heart of each person
here…see them truly for the first time.
Open your eyes and see that each person, however
different from you, is a treasure waiting to be discovered.
Open your ears and listen carefully to each one you
encounter for their story needs you in order to be shared.
Open your ears and you just might discover wisdom
for your journey.
Open your heart to the presence of the Divine, who
loves you in the midst of these people.
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.
Open your eyes and you might see yourself in a new
way...you might discover the real you that has been lost from view.
Open your eyes and your eyes and in the midst of the
laughter, the work, the play, the service, the conversation, you might find the
authentic you...
Open your ears and listen and you might hear a
stirring in your heart... that the simplicity of The Farm... the simplicity of
life in these hills is a part of you... a part worth keeping.
Open your heart to the presence of the Divine, who
loves you in the midst of quiet simplicity.
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground.
Open your eyes for the Divine Creator is present, permeating this
time... this place.
Open your eyes for the Living Christ is present in the one sitting
beside you... working beside you... laughing beside you.
Open your ears and LISTEN, the Eternal One who has shared life with
you is speaking to you this week... yes, to you!!!
Open yourself to Immanuel... "God with Us" and you might
see the "face of God."
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground!!!!
Take off your shoes for this is holy ground!!!!
Peace be with you,
Your brother in Christ,
Your brother in Christ,
John Norman
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Loras College: What the Hell is a Duhawk Anyway?
Right before Easter 2010, we welcomed Loras College, a small school in Dubuque, Iowa, to The Farm. This was a week that would definitely be one of those roll with the punches type of weeks and actually was the harbinger of just how much we would have to roll with the punches in the coming months.
Thankfully this group was full of volunteers who were certainly willing to be flexible. Their good humor and easy going attitude definitely made what could have been a really difficult week one that was focused on service and supporting each other.
Their student leader, Cassie, had been to the Farm the year before, and I think that experience was a real help to her and provided a strong base for her leadership. This might seem like a pretty obvious statement by me. You might think that "Of course being familiar with the Farm would be a strength". And while that seems pretty logical, it's not always the case. One of the key charisms of The Farm is the concept of God's Time and living in the present. Our time, with its agendas, plans and schedules to keep often gets us locked into a mindset where the ticks on a clock become more precious than the people we meet. We get more excited about finding a new way to increase efficiency than we do about the opportunity to connect with someone. The Farm, with is emphasis on being present, really challenges us to remove ourselves from this trap. Being present means just that, living in the here and now. However, for those that return to the Farm, they can just as easily fall into the trap of living in the past. I think it's safe to assume that those who return to the Farm had a decent experience the time before that. When they return, things aren't brand new anymore. They have expectations, the burden of the past. Some come back with the unconscious hope to recreate their prior experience. So while they may be able to give in to the Farm's call to keep their eyes from straying toward the horizon, they ironically struggle to keep both feet planted firmly in the present, dragging their one foot behind them to tyr and anchor themselves in the past. But Cassie did a great job in allowing the week to take her where it would and not attempting to try and steer it in a direction she thought it should go based on what she had come to know the year before.
There was also a volunteer who had a relatively prominent stutter. But instead of letting that limit his enjoyment or his participation during reflection, he used it as a point of connection. He would crack jokes about it, using it as a "threat" whenever there was a pregnant pause after we asked for volunteers to lead prayer. He never shortened reflections or minced words on account of his stutter. I thought that there was a important lesson and poignancy in that. First of all, it really showed that it doesn't matter the way in which a thought is conveyed that makes it particularly profound; the message itself is what matters. There are plenty of reflections that I've heard that are simple, yet powerful and plenty that get so twisted up in their fancy verbage that it's hard to discern the point. I suppose it's the embodiment of the Shakespearean mantra: "brevity is the soul of wit". Secondly, I think his reflections were a great lesson to us in patience and its rewards. I'll be honest, there were times where I would be siting in reflections, hoping they would wrap up in a timely manner so I could squeeze more precious moments of sleep out of the night (Farm Managers often struggle with the lessons of The Farm as much as volunteers do, despite the appearance that we are CharismBots).
So listening to a reflection that was slowed by a series of stutters wasn't necessarily easy. Many times when he was stuck on a particular word or phrase I would have to resist the urge to finish it for him, partly out of frustration and partly out of a desire to help. Instead of focusing on what he was saying, I was too wrapped up in what I thought about how he was saying it. Once I was able to let go of that, I could actually begin to internalize the message he was trying to convey. It was the prefect lesson in patience and what happens when you employ it.
Likely the thing that stands out the most about this week is what happened with the chaperone. After we gave the normal tour of The Farm and were finishing dinner, their chaperone came into the kitchen asking if he could talk to us. He told us, on the verge of tears, that there had been a family emergency right before he left for The Farm and he was hoping we would understand if he needed to use the phone a little more than normally was allowed (there's only one line for the Farm so we tend to limit its use). We told him that, of course we understood. We also informed him that if he wanted to, we could drive him to an airport so he could get home. He seemed really relieved about it and said that he would see how the situation progressed and make a decision from there. As it turned out, he needed to return home the next day. I volunteered to take him to the Columbus airport. While I was bummed about having to miss a day at the Farm, I felt fortunate to get this opportunity to connect with the chaperone. I learned that he worked in the maintenance department, which I thought was interesting. Most of the time, the chaperones are teachers, professors, or parents of students on the the trip. I asked him how he came to be connected to the trip. He told me that it was just a decision he came to while walking by the sign up table the students had set up. Service trips were something he tried to do as often as he could. He said he liked how they humbled him and how they were generally good for his soul. He started opening up and telling me about how the family emergency had literally happened just hours before the group was scheduled to leave. Instead of delaying their departure or trying to find a replacement, he made sure everything was as stable as he could leave it and trusted that it would work out. He said that he felt a responsibility to the group and that he realized that he couldn't deprive them of this opportunity. It was a great conversation and one of those moments I loved the most about being at The Farm. It was an example of a pure, profound example of service and sacrifice from an unexpected source. Here was this man who didn't necessarily have the most lucrative job in the world sacrificing to benefit a group of people he had met with only a few times before this (the volunteers) and a group of people he had never met before (the people of Lewis County). It really showed to me that the capacity for service isn't limited by status or occupation but by the capacity to love and share with others.
Thankfully this group was full of volunteers who were certainly willing to be flexible. Their good humor and easy going attitude definitely made what could have been a really difficult week one that was focused on service and supporting each other.
Their student leader, Cassie, had been to the Farm the year before, and I think that experience was a real help to her and provided a strong base for her leadership. This might seem like a pretty obvious statement by me. You might think that "Of course being familiar with the Farm would be a strength". And while that seems pretty logical, it's not always the case. One of the key charisms of The Farm is the concept of God's Time and living in the present. Our time, with its agendas, plans and schedules to keep often gets us locked into a mindset where the ticks on a clock become more precious than the people we meet. We get more excited about finding a new way to increase efficiency than we do about the opportunity to connect with someone. The Farm, with is emphasis on being present, really challenges us to remove ourselves from this trap. Being present means just that, living in the here and now. However, for those that return to the Farm, they can just as easily fall into the trap of living in the past. I think it's safe to assume that those who return to the Farm had a decent experience the time before that. When they return, things aren't brand new anymore. They have expectations, the burden of the past. Some come back with the unconscious hope to recreate their prior experience. So while they may be able to give in to the Farm's call to keep their eyes from straying toward the horizon, they ironically struggle to keep both feet planted firmly in the present, dragging their one foot behind them to tyr and anchor themselves in the past. But Cassie did a great job in allowing the week to take her where it would and not attempting to try and steer it in a direction she thought it should go based on what she had come to know the year before.
There was also a volunteer who had a relatively prominent stutter. But instead of letting that limit his enjoyment or his participation during reflection, he used it as a point of connection. He would crack jokes about it, using it as a "threat" whenever there was a pregnant pause after we asked for volunteers to lead prayer. He never shortened reflections or minced words on account of his stutter. I thought that there was a important lesson and poignancy in that. First of all, it really showed that it doesn't matter the way in which a thought is conveyed that makes it particularly profound; the message itself is what matters. There are plenty of reflections that I've heard that are simple, yet powerful and plenty that get so twisted up in their fancy verbage that it's hard to discern the point. I suppose it's the embodiment of the Shakespearean mantra: "brevity is the soul of wit". Secondly, I think his reflections were a great lesson to us in patience and its rewards. I'll be honest, there were times where I would be siting in reflections, hoping they would wrap up in a timely manner so I could squeeze more precious moments of sleep out of the night (Farm Managers often struggle with the lessons of The Farm as much as volunteers do, despite the appearance that we are CharismBots).
So listening to a reflection that was slowed by a series of stutters wasn't necessarily easy. Many times when he was stuck on a particular word or phrase I would have to resist the urge to finish it for him, partly out of frustration and partly out of a desire to help. Instead of focusing on what he was saying, I was too wrapped up in what I thought about how he was saying it. Once I was able to let go of that, I could actually begin to internalize the message he was trying to convey. It was the prefect lesson in patience and what happens when you employ it.
Likely the thing that stands out the most about this week is what happened with the chaperone. After we gave the normal tour of The Farm and were finishing dinner, their chaperone came into the kitchen asking if he could talk to us. He told us, on the verge of tears, that there had been a family emergency right before he left for The Farm and he was hoping we would understand if he needed to use the phone a little more than normally was allowed (there's only one line for the Farm so we tend to limit its use). We told him that, of course we understood. We also informed him that if he wanted to, we could drive him to an airport so he could get home. He seemed really relieved about it and said that he would see how the situation progressed and make a decision from there. As it turned out, he needed to return home the next day. I volunteered to take him to the Columbus airport. While I was bummed about having to miss a day at the Farm, I felt fortunate to get this opportunity to connect with the chaperone. I learned that he worked in the maintenance department, which I thought was interesting. Most of the time, the chaperones are teachers, professors, or parents of students on the the trip. I asked him how he came to be connected to the trip. He told me that it was just a decision he came to while walking by the sign up table the students had set up. Service trips were something he tried to do as often as he could. He said he liked how they humbled him and how they were generally good for his soul. He started opening up and telling me about how the family emergency had literally happened just hours before the group was scheduled to leave. Instead of delaying their departure or trying to find a replacement, he made sure everything was as stable as he could leave it and trusted that it would work out. He said that he felt a responsibility to the group and that he realized that he couldn't deprive them of this opportunity. It was a great conversation and one of those moments I loved the most about being at The Farm. It was an example of a pure, profound example of service and sacrifice from an unexpected source. Here was this man who didn't necessarily have the most lucrative job in the world sacrificing to benefit a group of people he had met with only a few times before this (the volunteers) and a group of people he had never met before (the people of Lewis County). It really showed to me that the capacity for service isn't limited by status or occupation but by the capacity to love and share with others.
March Madness Week 3:
From March 14-20 we welcomed students from Eastern Illinois University (EIU), University of Wisconsin LaCrosse and St. Edward's University in Texas. This being the third week or March Madness, Jamie, Colleen, and I were a little loopy but the volunteers did a great job of being involved and pulling us through.
First, I will apologize for my lack of detail for this week. The aforementioned fatigue meant that I didn't absorb everything as well as I normally did plus the fact that I'm a lazy bum and didn't update this blog for almost a year means the next batch of posts will likely suffer from a dearth of clear recollections.
This week's group was memorable for its interesting make up. First, there was one student and one leader from St. Eds who were graduates of Hoban H.S. in the AK Rowdy. It's no secret that The Farm loves Hobanites, so this was a welcome surprise. St. Ed's is reppin' the cross and anchor of Holy Cross along with Basil Moreau's thousand yard stare, which also was a welcome addition to The Farm.
Secondly, we actually had 2 girls (and a guy who happened to be one of the girl's fiancee but honestly, no one seems to give a crap about the groom at these wedding things) who were preparing to get married in the near future. They were from different schools and so it was a cool thing that they happened to end up as part of the same mission trip to Northeastern Kentucky. Because of my unparallelled laissez faire attitude when it comes to the completion of this blog, both Julie and Lisa (and Kyle, don't worry I appreciate the importance of the groom beyond a wedding cake accessory) have tied the knot. Marital props and snaps go out to you all. Hope you were able to take some of the lessons from The Farm into your respective marriages. If nothing else, you can realize that if your husband or wife doesn't feel like showering for a day or two, it's no big deal.
Thirdly, we had the embodiment of Hanz and Franz that week in Wesley and Dan. Both were lacrosse players and were the outward embodiment of the athlete type with plenty of muscle jokes and Anchorman quotes. I think it's part of the beauty of the Farm that it can welcome volunteers of all types. Some would think the sort of bravado and ridiculousness of these two would be incongruous with service but to believe so would be pretty narrow minded. Service, at its heart, is giving yourself to others. The way in which you do it matters little as long as your heart is in it. And while the guys certainly maintained their outward appearance, I could tell they truly gave of themselves during the week. So proud.
The group from Wisconsin also brought a priest with them, which is always a great thing to have at the Farm. First, as I've mentioned here before, it's great to have the option of Mass in the Chapel since it can really frame a work day and provide a good time for reflection. In addition to giving us the option of mass, priests come with a mindset that is already so attuned to what The Farm is all about. Obviously the various vows of a Priest are very much in line with the charisms of the Farm. So in a sense, having a Priest on board is like having an extra Farm Manager when it comes to making sure the volunteers grasp the charisms. I remember distinctly how during one particular reflection, one of the volunteers began reflecting on the struggle to bring lessons learned during experiences like The Farm back home. Fr. Mark, who followed with his reflection gently reminded her that we were only a few days into our experience. We hadn't even learned everything we needed to from the journey yet, so how could we worry about bringing lessons back with us yet? It was the perfect embodiment of the charism of God's Time living in the present. And the impact of having someone in their own group say it was really very important. Farm Managers tell chaperones before the work week begins that having them buy into the charisms is so much more meaningful to the volunteers that seeing the Farm Managers do it. The volunteers don't know us outside any other context than The Farm but they do know their chaperones outside of Tne Farm. So the chaperones buying into The Farm is a tangible change whereas with the Farm Managers it's status quo.
At the end of this week, the Farm Managers were all ready for a well deserved break. But the mixture of different people in the group was a good reminder to us that The Farm is a special place where people with different backgrounds, pesonalities and places in life can all come together and serve. As long as service remains at the core of what we are doing, The Farm will always be that place of solidarity and community. The people who volunteer are those who shape the weeks but they are united by the desire to serve those who need it.
First, I will apologize for my lack of detail for this week. The aforementioned fatigue meant that I didn't absorb everything as well as I normally did plus the fact that I'm a lazy bum and didn't update this blog for almost a year means the next batch of posts will likely suffer from a dearth of clear recollections.
This week's group was memorable for its interesting make up. First, there was one student and one leader from St. Eds who were graduates of Hoban H.S. in the AK Rowdy. It's no secret that The Farm loves Hobanites, so this was a welcome surprise. St. Ed's is reppin' the cross and anchor of Holy Cross along with Basil Moreau's thousand yard stare, which also was a welcome addition to The Farm.
Secondly, we actually had 2 girls (and a guy who happened to be one of the girl's fiancee but honestly, no one seems to give a crap about the groom at these wedding things) who were preparing to get married in the near future. They were from different schools and so it was a cool thing that they happened to end up as part of the same mission trip to Northeastern Kentucky. Because of my unparallelled laissez faire attitude when it comes to the completion of this blog, both Julie and Lisa (and Kyle, don't worry I appreciate the importance of the groom beyond a wedding cake accessory) have tied the knot. Marital props and snaps go out to you all. Hope you were able to take some of the lessons from The Farm into your respective marriages. If nothing else, you can realize that if your husband or wife doesn't feel like showering for a day or two, it's no big deal.
Thirdly, we had the embodiment of Hanz and Franz that week in Wesley and Dan. Both were lacrosse players and were the outward embodiment of the athlete type with plenty of muscle jokes and Anchorman quotes. I think it's part of the beauty of the Farm that it can welcome volunteers of all types. Some would think the sort of bravado and ridiculousness of these two would be incongruous with service but to believe so would be pretty narrow minded. Service, at its heart, is giving yourself to others. The way in which you do it matters little as long as your heart is in it. And while the guys certainly maintained their outward appearance, I could tell they truly gave of themselves during the week. So proud.
The group from Wisconsin also brought a priest with them, which is always a great thing to have at the Farm. First, as I've mentioned here before, it's great to have the option of Mass in the Chapel since it can really frame a work day and provide a good time for reflection. In addition to giving us the option of mass, priests come with a mindset that is already so attuned to what The Farm is all about. Obviously the various vows of a Priest are very much in line with the charisms of the Farm. So in a sense, having a Priest on board is like having an extra Farm Manager when it comes to making sure the volunteers grasp the charisms. I remember distinctly how during one particular reflection, one of the volunteers began reflecting on the struggle to bring lessons learned during experiences like The Farm back home. Fr. Mark, who followed with his reflection gently reminded her that we were only a few days into our experience. We hadn't even learned everything we needed to from the journey yet, so how could we worry about bringing lessons back with us yet? It was the perfect embodiment of the charism of God's Time living in the present. And the impact of having someone in their own group say it was really very important. Farm Managers tell chaperones before the work week begins that having them buy into the charisms is so much more meaningful to the volunteers that seeing the Farm Managers do it. The volunteers don't know us outside any other context than The Farm but they do know their chaperones outside of Tne Farm. So the chaperones buying into The Farm is a tangible change whereas with the Farm Managers it's status quo.
At the end of this week, the Farm Managers were all ready for a well deserved break. But the mixture of different people in the group was a good reminder to us that The Farm is a special place where people with different backgrounds, pesonalities and places in life can all come together and serve. As long as service remains at the core of what we are doing, The Farm will always be that place of solidarity and community. The people who volunteer are those who shape the weeks but they are united by the desire to serve those who need it.
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