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.

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.

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. 

John Norman: Welcome To The Farm!!

Back in the 80s, a man by the name of John Norman started taking groups of students from McNicholas High School in Cincinnati, OH to the Farm.  He became enamoured with the place, as many do, and continued to take groups to experience its Simplicity and Service.  When Colleen and I arrived, our first group was from McNic.  John Norman was no longer taking groups himself but had passed that duty on to others.  But as a way of connection and benediction for the new group of McNic students, he wrote a missive.  Part poem, part welcoming, part prayer it was an incredible piece of writing that perfectly summed up and framed the Farm experience.  It spoke to the atmosphere, discoveries, and lessons that lay in that piece of land and during that week of service.

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.

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.

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.

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!!!!

Peace be with you,   
Your brother in Christ,

John Norman

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.

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.

March Madness Week 2: ND, St. Joseph's College, UGA, LUC

Week 2 of March Madness certainly lived up to its name as we welcomed four different colleges: The University of Notre Dame from South Bend IN, St. Josephs College from Maine, The University of Georgia, and Loyola University Chicago. All in all there were 39 volunteers! It was our largest group together as Farm Managers to date. It also marked a few special arrivals and anniversaries. For Jamie, it marked an exciting time as we finally welcomed a group from Maine, home of the GREATEST VACATION DESTINATION EVAH (Portland, ME). For myself, it was exciting to welcome my Alma Mater (Notre Dame) back to the Farm. In addition, Alex, Devyn and Sam, who had been down to the Farm when I was here as a volunteer. Finally, this week marked the one year anniversary of the first time I came to the Farm as a volunteer.

It was a pretty crazy week from a logistical standpoint. Having 39 volunteers here means a lot of planning and means that we have to run in a million different directions. There are only a limited number of sites that we send volunteers to each day. There are also a few of those sites (like the clothing pantry, food pantry, and construction) that require us to be there with the volunteers. So when we get groups that have 5 or 6 small groups, it doesn't leave us with much wiggle room for a schedule. Planning for these weeks is often like a twisted game of schedule sudoku.

I think this is an actual picture of Jamie during planning

One of the amazing things about this week was how quickly the groups meshed. With four different schools at the Farm, it would be easy for the volunteers to stick with what they know and associate only with people from their own school. It can be overwhelming to have so many new people to try and meet but the volunteers were extremely willing to extend themselves. By the end of the week it was difficult for us to tell who was from which school. There were multiple days where the free time after work sites turned into a party with 40 people sprawled across the lawn playing cornhole, frisbee and baseball. It was a true joy to watch how quickly everyone connected. I told the group at the end of the week that it was groups like this one that make me love the Farm and what we do.

During the week we had the opportunity to help Greg, a new architect who had just come on board with People's, move in to his new house in Maysville. Dave hadn't told us who it was we were helping to move in when he asked for our help (or more likely, I was too tired in the morning to put two and two together) and so it was a surprise to me when we pulled up to the house and it was Greg. I had met Greg rather briefly when Dave had brought him around the Farm when he was first thinking about moving down to Lewis County. It turns out that the storage company he had been using in Louisiville, where he was moving from, had agreed to deliver the storage unit to outside their normal area but with the stipulation that he could only have access to it for a few hours. So he had asked us for help moving all of his stuff into the house in the alloted time.

This is exactly the kind of task that illustrates what the Farm is all about. One of the beautiful things about the Farm is that it often expands your idea of what is service. Those coming down to Lewis County for a service trip might expect and be prepared for helping people in desperate living conditions. They have no problem digging through garbage or cleaning away muck and grime. It is easy to see the need in those situations and you can come away with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you have truly made a difference. Ironically, it is often more difficult to see the service in helping someone who is more well off. Without the telltale signs of need, we struggle to see why our work is needed. But one of the mantras of the Farm is serving where you are needed. This was a case where we were definitely needed. Greg had everything in one of those P.O.D.S., which reminded me of the little bastard child of Optimus Prime. There were moving parts and levers galore. I was half expecting to find The Cube lodged somewhere in there. Greg also was moving into a triple level townhouse, which meant a lot of stairclimbing. With the help of the group we were able to get all Greg's stuff inside the house.

I smelled trouble when Sam Witwicky was the one driving the POD

I had a couple things that struck me while I was talking to Greg during the course of the move-in. I asked him about his journey to Lewis County and learned that he had attended OSU for his degree. While there he had had the call to work on low income housing. He told me that his coursework touched on it but didn't emphasize it enough to satusfy him. In the same way, the firm that he had been working for before People's had also dabbled in low income housing but hadn't had enough of a focus to whet his appetite. Greg told me that he had been interested in the low income housing because of the challenges it presents. The ultimate goal is to put out a quality product that people will be proud to own. At the same time, you want the product to be as affordable as possible. The tension between the two desires means that the architect has to be creative with his/her design. The need for a new challenge and the desire to help those less fortunate led Greg to come down to Lewis County.

Another thing that struck me when talking to Greg was the conditions surrounding his current move. During a break in the moving, Greg told me that he had put all this in storage 3 months ago. That just floored me. Those who have been to the Farm know that one of its charisms is simplicity. We ask the volunteers to give up their cell phones, laptops, TV, daily showers, and makeup among other things. But the volunteers are only here for the week, after which they return to their homes with all the comforts they were used to before they left. Meanwhile Greg had been at home and couldn't access a large portion of the things he owned. It had to have been frustrating for him to be at his house yet missing those little things that had made it home. That sort of sacrifice really puts our own efforts into perspective.

If there was an unofficial theme for this week, it would likely be poo. During the week, Jamie had the unenviable task of mucking out Wild Woman's barn. So they spent the afternoon knee deep in cow pies. Unfortunately, it wasn't the last time we had poo problems that week. Toward the end of the week, one of the volunteers informed us that the toilets in the bunkhouse were backing up. Ok, no problem, we have the toilets in the bathhouse. A short time later we were informed that two of the three toilets in the bathhouse had also become stopped up. Thus that meant we now had one toilet for 40 people. Luckily some of the volunteers were handy enough to fashion a homemade snake and braved the commode catastrophe to fix the problem.

Like I said earlier, the week marked the one year anniversary of my coming to the Farm as a volunteer. It was also just about the halfway point of my time as a Farm Manager. So it was sort of weird to look back and see how far I had come. A year ago I literally had no concept of what The Farm was about and now I had all these memories and experiences revolving around it. It had become a part of my story. In that years time, I had met people in the community who had affected me greatly and had become like family. The week was a great check up to see how far I'd come.

March Madness Week 1: Walsh University, St. John's and St. Ben's

From February 28 to March 6 we welcomed Walsh University, and St. John's/St Ben's from North Canton, OH and Collegeville, MN respectively to the Farm. They were our first group in what is affectionately called March Madness around here. March brings the onslaught of college spring breaks. Many schools offer alternative spring breaks that introduce students to cultures and service opportunities much different than those they know. The Farm is an alternative spring break destination for many schools. To maximize this time, Bossman likes to schedule multiple groups in a row. College and High School groups come with their own unique blessings and challenges. While high school groups are a lot of fun and normally very enthusiastic, it is a truth that they require more supervision. The greater independence offered by college groups means that March Madness is a time when we can really get a lot done in the community without having to divide our energy into supervising.

Being the first of three consecutive weeks of March Madness, the details of this week are a bit fuzzy (again, sorry for my epic fail in trying to keep this thing updated). However, there were a few things that surfaced in the soupy mess that is my memory. Each group usually connects with one aspect or charism of the Farm particularly well whether it's simplicity, God's Time, community or any of the many others. This particular group really enjoyed being out in nature and the beauty that the Farm's grounds offered. They took advantage of the opportunity afforded by being away from the hectic atmosphere of everyday life and used Nature as a reflection source. While this was inspiring to watch, the three of us Farm Managers had forgotten over the winter what it was like to have access to the Farm's grounds so we hadn't emphasized that groups should check approximately how much time they had for hiking/ exploring after getting back from their worksites. That led to this hilarious scene:

We had gotten dinner prepared one evening. Whoever had dinner duty had guided preparation of the meal and had paged the staffhouse. We rang the bell and were gathered upstairs in the kitchen, waiting for everyone to show up. We waited...and waited...and waited. There were still a few volunteers that had yet to show up. Naturally, we started asking where they were. The volunteers that were in the kitchen responded that the missing ones had gone on a hike. So we sent one of the volunteers on a mission to retrieve their missing comrades. After a little bit she reappeared. We waited with bated breath for her to reveal where the rest of the crew was. She informed us simply that "They are across the creek in a tree and they'll be here in a bit". Needless to say we didn't really know how to react.

Her kitchen was a mess but she had a great grasp on the charisms

Besides our volunteers morphing into monkeys (though thankfully not contracting Ebola) there was another thing that stuck out to me. The Johnnies and Bennies left a day before the Walsh girls but we still had a reflection that night with the Walsh girls. It was a really excellent reflection that showed a lot of honesty and thought from the girls. I could really see how the Farm and its many gifts had affected them. No two reflection sessions are alike and there's really no way to differentiate a "good" reflection session. I think people are often intimidated by reflection because they think they have to come up with grandiose ideas or craft an eloquent dissertation on theology distilled into 30 seconds of speech. There are a few people who can package profound statements on faith and humanity in stunning soundbites of eloquence. But normally, the reflections that really have an impact are straightforward and, most importantly, honest. It's the honesty that gives a reflection its gravitas, not high-falutin words. Simple, honest statements about the week are always profound. And this reflection session was filled with examples.

One girl had been moved by meeting Herma, a local woman we often help because of medical conditions that render her homebound. She's a very intelligent woman who reads a ton of books and is a big fan of old Western series on TV like Bonanza. She has a lot of spunk and spirit despite having to rely on a motorized wheelchair to get around. The girl reflected that Herma really reminded her of an old woman she used to visit at home. Her visits became less and less frequent as the woman's health started to decline because it was very difficult to see her suffer. But after visiting Herma and seeing how much joy she took from seeing all the students, this girl realized that the woman she used to visit needed her presence now more than ever. Although it might be hard for her to see the woman in her current condition, she knows the impact that her presence has.

A second girl had a reflection that stuck with me. She started her reflection by saying that she thought she had done an excellent job at keeping her distance. She described how at some of the ministry of presence sites she had made the effort to not get involved emotionally. She had kept people at arms length, symbolically. It just wasn't her thing so she had constructed a wall between herself and the people she visited. It was a startlingly honest bit of reflection considering the Farm focuses on Ministry of Presence, saying that we work with our hands and our hearts here. But I think she realized that the Farm is also not about judgment and that the people in that reflection circle were not there to judge her, but to listen to her. That strategy of closing herself off had worked well, she continued, until that last day. We had gotten a call to deliver firewood to a couple in town. I had asked for a few volunteers and she came along. When we got there and began unloading the wood, the woman who lived there came out. She began thanking us and telling us how it was so cold in her house without the heat that she couldn't sleep at night. She began crying as she thanked us for the help because she was so overwhelmed that people would take care of her like this. As the girl reflected, while the woman was pouring out her gratitude she began thinking "Is this what I've been missing out on all week?". She was stunned at the depth of the woman's gratitude and how a simple delivery of firewood had brought her to tears. She vowed to remember that moment of realization and take it back with her to remind her of the impact that presence has on people. Strange that a reflection that had started out with thoughts that were the complete antithesis of the Farm ended up summing up one of the core elements of the this place so simply, yet eloquently.

Marquette University High School: Bro-tucky Oh Ten

From February 14-20, we had boys from Marquette University High School in Milwaukee, Wisconsin come down to the Farm. Going from the all girls group to this testosterone fest was certainly a jarring juxtaposition. The guys were a lot of fun and brought a lot of energy to the week and never stopped having a good time.

The week certainly didn't start out as raucous as it ended. The boys were strangely silent during the tour and orientation. We were actually starting to get concerned that they wouldn't talk the entire time they were at the Farm, which would have made the week very difficult. Turns out this was only a clever ruse to lull us into a false sense of security.

The boys were also stuck on the Farm for a day as well. They were perfectly content to hang around the Farm and do some stuff to help us out. Much like the girls from Assumption had built the box for the sports equipment, the Marquette boys built a set of shelves for the T Shirt store. In the front of our house we have a few tables that hold the Glenmary shwag that the students can buy at the end of the week. With all the different merchandise, it's difficult to fit all of it onto the tables. So the boys went to work measuring and cutting wood for the shelf. In the end they were victims of the shoddy materials they had to work with. The end product was a little lopsided and prone to tipping. However, when Jamie saw it, she rightly pointed out that it was perfect. It was an odd sentiment seeing as how it looked about as vertically level as the Tower of Pisa (and less structurally sound). But she had a point. All it needed to do was hold some clothes and for that, it was perfect. It may not have looked flashy, but it got the job done.

Besides, the end product wasn't really the point. The point was all the work that had gone into the project. In this world of what-have-you-done-for-me-lately, we often lose sight of the journey while focusing on the end destination. There are a lot of upsides to focusing on the end product. It ensures that you produce something of worth. But I think an obsessive focus on demanding perfection out of the end result sometimes trivializes the effort it takes to get there. There is as much value in the process as there is in the product. In fact, when you think about it, the process is necessary for anything to be produced. Sometimes I think we forget that.

If you'll allow me a quick analogy (cue collective groan from my readership), I'd like to use one of my passions to illustrate the point: Sports. Specifically, I'd like to use the NHL playoffs. Those who know me know that I am a huge Pittsburgh Penguins fan. The Stanley Cup Playoffs, despite what Dane Cook and his atrocious THERE IS ONLY ONE OCTOBER ads may have to say, are widely recognized as some of the most grueling and meaningful weeks in all of sports. They produce some truly iconic moments that live on in the hearts and minds of fans everywhere. It was a thrilling ride watching the Pens as they fought their way to a third Stanley Cup during last years playoff run. Watching Mad Max Talbot Shush Philly, Marc Andre Fleury stonewall Ovi, and Malkin unleash his liquor-license-revoking backhand on Cam Ward was witnessing small moments of greatness. They culminated in Sidney Crosby becoming the youngest captain to hoist the Silver Chalice. But focusing only on that image of Crosby with the Cup is to ignore all the small moments that went into its achievement. When I see that picture I see all those moments of brilliance that happened along the way. Those little moments of triumph are reasons why tears well up in the eyes of players as they take their skate with the Cup.

In the same way, accomplishing a task and the feeling of satisfaction one gets from it is a culmination of all the hard work that goes into the task. Truly appreciating the journey is at the crux of lot of the things we do at the Farm. With volunteers working, sometimes the shelves don't come out level or the walls don't get an even coat of paint, but the real value is in the doing. That's why Jamie was so right when she said that the shelf was perfect. It was perfect because it showed the Marquette boys the value of the journey.

There was one other noteworthy event from the week. It happened late one afternoon while I was preparing dinner. A group was returning with Colleen from work site. I saw them pull in and begin to go around the roundabout. I went back to making dinner but became concerned when I didn't hear the cars pull into the parking area. I peeked out the window to see a partially obstructed view of the cars idling over by the bridge with a gaggle of boys milling about. I figured that the Snitch had gotten stuck in the snow so I went out to see what was up. As I got nearer to the scene, my jaw dropped in wonderment and I did a 37436363 take to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. It was not the Snitch that was in trouble, but BRT. And by trouble I mean that the front driver side tire was completely hanging off the concrete bridge leading into The Farm. I guess Colleen had misjudged the bridge with all the snow and BRT veered off the edge. It was being held up by the front axle, which was catching on the concrete. This made simply reversing BRT off of the bridge impossible. Thus we had the surreal scene of hooking up the chain to BRT and pulling it with The Snitch. As the Snitch is less than 4 wheel drive, it was tough going. But with some effort and a little cardboard for traction, we managed to rescue BRT.

Dramatic reenactment