MAZ '15 Post 2 - Leaders Players and Snakes

Morning of Day 1, MAZ '15:

Kim and Jakob Riffing

I get a sense of personal fulfillment when a young adult returns to Mission Arizona as a leader; I have to hope that personal fulfillment is permitted while in service to the King. Seeing them transform from a twelve year old student finding their way from one place to another on the reservation and figuring out just how much work they can do and that they really can pray aloud in a group into an adult leader is a very special thing to be a part of. It confirms to me that their lives were touched as students and that God’s Spirit has driven them to be a part of yet another group of student’s lives as they in turn experience the short-term mission life.

Their commitment to serve children, and so to serve Christ, tells me that they are on a right path. There is no denying that they also like to have fun while on the trip and that it’s not some unbearable yoke of drudgery to them. Leading, service, and joy walked hand-in-hand with them throughout the week.

This year we had three such servants including one of our new Youth Directors, Kim Cox. Looking back on the week, she did an excellent job of being out front and leading. She handled a bunch of adult old-timers very well and our adult team worked nicely together. Kim’s heart for the mission trip, for the kids, and for worship blended for a great overall experience.

Hofmann Estate

Jakob and Brian, college students and cousins, were a big presence during the week. Jakob’s guitar playing with Kim was a treat. Brian’s approach to a tricky problem of installing modern waterless urinals in an aging cinder-block restroom was invaluable. I especially liked watching the family interaction in and around Hoffman Estate with Jakob’s dad, Paul, and his sister, Mackenzie.

Afternoon from Day 1:

          I was the first on the scene to find a rattlesnake for the first time in my twenty-plus years of going to the Gila Indian Community; others have found the few rattlers before I was called to the scene, if at all. Paul is our lead snake handler and re-locater; he reported that the one I found came equipped with seven rattles; I estimated that it measured four feet or so in length – a sizeable old veteran.

          Somehow being first on the scene gave me more of a pause for concern. I don’t know why I was moved to peek behind the old 4X8 foot plywood sign leaning against the tool shed; perhaps it was only to have the snake quietly removed from the camp. In any case, I am grateful that the snake is now doing its job far away from the church campus and wasn’t found in a circumstance that was a danger to anyone and that it was the only snake reported for the week.

          I was reminded of the first rattler that I had seen during a MAZ experience. It was dead and its head was in a shovel having already met its demise at the hands of marauding teenaged boys on the hunt for just such a prize. My ensuing response seems to have made its way into the lore of old MAZ trips.

          All of this followed the quietest night with a score of teenagers that I can recall under the arbor. What a wonderful place!

In His Grip,

jerry

MAZ 2015 - In Summary

Sunrise on Vah Ki

Please let me put my little summary of Mission Arizona 2015 (MAZ ’15) into perspective from where I'm sitting now and then I’ll follow this up with specific thoughts about this year’s trip in a couple of following posts.

As I write this I am able to look up and out of windows that give me a panoramic view of Oregon mountains and the pine forest dotted with madrone and hung with Spanish moss that surrounds my parent’s home. The clouds that had graced the area with rain the night before are scattering about now and I’ve been reminded that less than a week ago I awoke early in the Arizona dessert one morning after it was washed by an overnight rain. Before thoughts of MAZ ’15 get too diluted by the activities of carrying for my dad following his heart attack on the night that we returned to our La Crescenta Valley I am offering my summation of the trip, such as it is.

          There are so many points of interaction during a week with nearly thirty people that you can lose the constellation for the Milky Way. Summing up such a week is a difficult task at best.

          Sure, I could list off all of the projects, big and small, that went on during the week; replacing a plastic sign-cover strewn with graffiti, cleaning an 1890’s adobe church for an upcoming revival, replacing bathroom fixtures with waterless (and working) units, building and painting a new rostrum for the large meeting arbor, building a new ‘vatu’ for shade with a concrete floor, or a dozen other small kindnesses done to, in, and around the Vah Ki and Stotonic Church campuses. Oh, I must not forget the weeding after a season of rain to help make the grounds presentable for the people. The dessert grows in a rush with any rainy weather and the growth was prolific, even in the tiniest crack between building wall and concrete walkway.

          I could list all the good things kids and adults did through the week for each other; the fry-bread dinner fixed for us by our Pima friends, our kids carrying small children around on their backs for hours after a long day of hard work, the simple consolations of one person to another in moments of need…

          I could tick-off the quiet time lessons and evening fellowships about wise words and making wise decisions, or I could summarize the revival sermon, and even pick out the keynotes from prayers spoken through the week, both from our team and from others on our behalf.

Even with all the lists and summaries poured into a mixer and shaken, not stirred, of course, I could scarcely describe or capture the week in a brief post. It’s best said by the expressions of our kids and the fountain of words and emotions as they reconnect with their families and as they part ways with mission teammates, even if only for a night. When you connect those dots the constellation that shows MAZ for what it is becomes clear.

In His Grip,

jerry

Dear Roland,

          I was saddened when I heard that you’d passed away this last June. I don’t know if you know how much I cared for you and how much respect that I carry for you still. With all the hustle and bustle of our week with you at the Vah Ki Presbyterian Church, those little things can get lost in it all. The couple of times that I stayed home from our service week over the last twenty years or so you were one of the things that I missed most; I’m sure that it will all sink in when we arrive there in a couple of weeks and you aren’t there to greet us. I will miss seeing your face and the wise eyes and ready smile that you always carried whenever you were around our kids.

Roland Stewart

In many ways, you have been the face of the Gila Indian Community to me. You have been welcoming, warm, and genuine. When I am on these trips with our kids, even for the adults, I feel like a shepherd and it gives me great satisfaction when I find a person who takes that role with our kids without even having met them. Thank you for that. You helped take care of us when we arrived and made us feel welcome and at home while we were away from home.

 

Roland with the 2004 Team

          I have always appreciated your genuine faith and the openness about your love for our Lord and Savior. I also appreciate how willing you were to share your testimony and through that, your wisdom. It has been good for our groups to hear you speak, to hear and see you play the piano during services, and to watch your reverence for Jesus.

          Thinking about you now in the presence of our Lord and Savior I have to tell you something that has come to mind. You remind me in many ways of my Grandpa Matt, my maternal grandfather, who passed away many years ago and shortly after my wife and I were married. It was likely in the way that you both walked about and observed and taught by your words and actions. I was close to my grandfather and still feel him close by me now. I can easily see the two of talking together and probably getting a laugh out of some of things I do and say. There was a kindness in his laughter as there was in yours.

          While I’m writing this from my own heart I am pretty sure that many of those that have been with me on our trips feel the same way and would say “Amen” as to how we see you as our friend. I am also pretty sure that you were welcomed into His presence with open arms and heard something like, “Welcome home friend. Well done my good and faithful servant”; words that all the believers hope to hear one day.

         

Peace my friend,

jerry

Objects in the Mirror

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. True enough. I seem to have been spending an inordinate amount of time lately reflecting about LCPC (La Crescenta Presbyterian Church) and CLW (Church of the Living Word) people and the memories I have of them. I didn’t spend this much time ruminating about things as I approached retirement from AT&T after 35 years and this makes me wonder what’s going on. Am I getting ready to make a change, a move? Is there going to be a push in another direction? Who can say? I try to keep my mind and spirit open to the next thing hoping and praying that God is leading the way.

Today I’ve been going through a lot of old MAZ (Mission Arizona) paperwork; old medical releases, expectations contracts, questionnaires, and my old notes and photos in preparation to hand them over to our new director, Kimberly Cox. So many incredible young people have been with me through MAZ that I feel more fortunate than I’ve any right to expect. There’s not one of them that came to mind that brought a frown although I did wince when I thought of Jacob Sinclair from last year and Matt Kelly from so many years ago. Those boys gave me a fright, especially Jacob going to the emergency hospital when I couldn’t be with him; some old ghosts arose and freaked me out. With Matt we knew it was a broken arm and had it set in a couple of hours so the anxieties associated with not knowing were not so severe. I’d go back with any of them.

          I couldn’t possibly name them all, handfuls of Harters, Chambers, and Gossetts; sets of Cox kids, Doedings, Whites, and Grays; a whole boxful of Fernandezes; a pair of Schwings and their mom, and not to mention my own nephews and in-laws. And the adults…every one of them a hero to me, each of them finding their youth ministry grove for the trip having brought skill sets that they found out about some time before or during the trip - some of them called to a lifetime of youth work, some for a year or so. And the current batch, Kim Cox returning as director as an alumni from Jr. High/High School, the roof wrecking and placing ladies from last year, Ashley and Rachel and the ultimate in cool heads, Amanda who calmly took care of Jacob… Our friends on the reservation; my dear friend Roland, Wallace, Eugene, Natalie, and the neighborhood kids. Oh, and the dogs, foremost among them is Buddy, nee Ne Ne. I’ve left dozens of names out and they keep popping up in pictures and each picture brings even more to mind. I cannot possibly do all of the MAZ people justice.

On the heels of my hymnal dedication research I stumbled upon the Bible dedication in the student center. It was a sobering moment for me that came just as Josh opened the lesson this past Sunday about the Sixth Commandment, “Thou Shalt Not Murder”. The Bibles were given “In Loving Memory of Christopher McCulloch a 13 year-old boy who slipped through our program and became involved with a rough crowd and paid the ultimate price for it on 7/22/2000. It’s hard for me to relate to – I know it would be nearly impossible for twelve and thirteen year-olds today to understand what happened nearly fifteen years ago.

          With the exception of the memories of Chris all those that have wondered through my thoughts have been pleasant recollections and were easy for me to give thanks for. When I look in the mirror, even the flashbacks to the CLW days some forty years ago are not really so far back. I have a bunch of those kids in my cover photo on Facebook right now, though it’s nearly time to change it. Those ‘kids’ have been incredibly good to us and have said some really nice things about Cindy and me from back then. God is good.

          I guess it is okay to look in the rearview mirror and remember things as long as we remember that they are closer than they appear and as long as we don’t stare for too long and forget to watch where we are going. Check the review mirror once in a while but keep your eyes on the road.

         

In His grip, jerry

LCPC Memories Evoked

          My review of the hymnal and room dedications at the La Crescenta Presbyterian Church has evoked memories that I’d like to share. First though, the data in no particular order of importance:

293 Hymnals were reviewed

60 different combinations of donors and dedications

58 Hymnals were not donated

43 Hymnals have lost their donation slips leaving a patch of yellowed glue

19 donors did not make a dedication in 76 hymnals

13 hymnals were provided from the General Memorial Fund

19 hymnals were provided by The Cathedral Choir

4 were dedicated to “Our Parents” with one of them as “Our Singing Parents”

1 was to “Our Mothers”

1 couple donated 27 hymnals spread over 4 dedications

Those are the raw numbers; now for some personal observations. Regarding the number of hymnals found, a total of 293 in the sanctuary, Koopman’s Hall, The Chapel, Choir Room, Bell Room, The John Estelle Room, and the Robert E. Rumer Youth Center; I don’t believe Presbyterians are capable of purchasing any type of item in any prime number like 293 except for possibly 2 and therefore I draw the conclusion that 300 were purchased and that the missing hymnals have found their way into the great hymnal heaven or folks’ home concert halls.

The dedication from Estelle Potter is as sweet as any: “In Appreciation for the Choir’s Dedication”, 4 hymnals are labeled thusly. I remember Estelle as a beautiful spirit who took great joy when our youth groups caroled at her house. Her helper would wheel her to the doorway and we sang. At the end of our singing she always gave us the best prayer and blessing.

Ted and Valerie Pfeifer’s donation evoked the memory of singing in the choir as a high school student along with my dad and how much fun that was. I think my friend Jim (wrong) as there as well and we sang for Art Baker at some point in time. It wasn’t until my second LCPC stint and well into adulthood that I got the message that I really can’t sing. It took a while after that but I’m worshipping just fine again for a human, thank you very much.

Broberg and Cathedral Choir

The dedication from Gene and June Broberg for their son Dennis has to be the most poignant for me. Dennis had been a childhood friend and while we were into different things while at CVHS, he into cars and me into basketball, we remained friends. Dennis and another friend, Jeff Barnes, were killed and Dennis’ high school sweetheart (they planned on getting married) was crippled in an accident by a drunk driver on La Tuna Canyon Road during our senior year. We still talk about it at reunions; I remember the shock and going from group to group in the quad trying to process our loss for many days afterwards.

The dedication from Gene and Madeline La Clair brought to mind my start at LCPC as a third grader and how Mr. La Clair taught us the stories about Jesus and made that introduction in lessons and the way he lived his life. He seemed so very old to us eight year olds; maybe that’s why when Cindy and I came back to LCPC the first thing I did was to teach third grade Sunday School which included my future son-in-law. I actually had him in mind when I took on third graders at VBS this past summer.

Two of our named rooms are for people dedicated to Youth Ministry and/or Christian Education. Having just returned from the Reverend Walt Estelle’s memorial service where we had a chance to catch up with John Estelle and Woody Garvin, my old youth leaders are on my heart, Woody being the last one I had as we did the College Workers and Bums group after my CVHS graduation. I remember them all as will our youth today remember theirs. We had Gary Baker who played The Mad Baker to my dad’s Batman in a snow camp skit, fully costumed and priceless. There was Dale Cry (not sure of the spelling here) for high school and Dr. Rumer my senior year, Tom and Judy Theriault. There were many volunteers including the Estelles, my parents, and a great many of our existing Cruiser group; I love them all.

Regarding the Lost donor slips; where have they gotten off to? It made me a little sad each time I found one gone and I gave a fist pump when I found one thoughtfully tucked away in the pages of the hymnal so that I could re-glue it to the opening cover. When I found two in row gone I got a little miffed. Maybe some of them are stowed away somewhere in a drawer of the church.

In general, so many of the donors could have books and rooms named for themselves now. They are the friends of my parents and some of them became my friends in the care and feeding of the church family. Most of them led lives worthy of a dedication but never expected one and would have been embarrassed to receive one. We should all lead such a life and we should each take the time to express our appreciation for the servants of the church, from the servers at PEAK to the musicians in our services, to the maintenance staff, to the childcare providers…you catch my drift.

In His grip, jerry

Lest We Forget

          Lest we forget, let’s remind ourselves of those who’ve gone before us, paved the way for us, and set the bar for us to measure ourselves by; first among them is Jesus followed closely by the martyrs. It’s probably no coincidence that I started writing this post and doing some of the research for it on the weekend we recognize Martin Luther King Jr., nor is it any coincidence that I’m completing it after having driven nearly 3000 miles to honor the late Reverend Walt Estelle in Spokane.

“No man’s life starts with his own birth, for every man walks along the path of those who came before. Every warrior’s life starts with Child of the Water who came down onto the earth in the beginning times…” A quote attributed to Chief Cochise found on a quilt titled “Cochise – Once They Were Like the Wind” by Patricia L. Heacox in Green Valley, AZ. I ran across this quilt at a show the day after I had written the bulk of my narrative for this post and felt like it belonged here.

          While I think that it is good to remember the big names in history and especially Jesus, the First Fruits of those that have gone on before us, I am thinking about those names that are closer to home. Think for a moment about your schools, work places, churches, and any number of public places. There are names for the buildings, halls, and gardens; names for walls, rooms, and even park benches. The names are for people and families that have made significant contributions of time and effort; or yes, even money. Remember them for what they meant to you and the generations before. How did their names become associated with the dedication marker? Think about your own homes and the homes of your families. There is Dad’s Chair, Mom’s Sewing Room, the backyard inspired by the wedding, and Jerry’s Office, though I prefer to think of it simply as ‘The Office’, the place where I am happily typing now and hope to write something with meaning for someone.

          I need to point out something here that is close to my heart since I seem to be rapidly approaching this particular status myself. Some of these people are with us now in our churches, or alive now but have been relegated to full-time care facilities. Remember them now and appreciate them right now. I go so far as to believe that we should proffer projects to accommodate them and make access to our church easier over those projects simply designed to make things look nice and be attractive to outsiders or even to be nice for ourselves. I think that there is nothing more attractive than a community that remembers and takes care of those who have entered the winter season of their lives where the ravages of our human brokenness make every move difficult and requires that every trip to the church be planned out for parking and access.

What inspired this trip down memory lane? Here is where my post gets more focused on La Crescenta Presbyterian Church. One Sunday some months ago I opened up the hymnal because I prefer it to the screen. In this hymnal I saw that it was dedicated by my best friend Jim’s parents and I snapped a photo and sent it to him.* The idea for this post has been simmering since then and now I’ve gone back and photographed the hymnals and cataloged the names and dedications that were made in 1980 and 1983. I’ve also nosed around the church grounds for the various dedications. Koopman’s Hall and the John Estelle Room are the most widely known but did you know that the Student Center is dedicated to Dr. Robert E. Rumer? He’s one of the four youth pastors that I had as a kid who are nestled in my heart.

I have not figured how to attach the file of my catalog but would love to share it if you want to look it over; my next post will contain my personal thoughts that occurred as I gathered the information for the catalog Here is a link to the photos that I took for you to peruse if you would like. These photos can also be viewed on my Facebook page under LCPC Dedications.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/19081435@N03/sets/72157650633597252/

          Take a walk down your own memory lane, honor those who’ve gone before you. Look around you and take note of the trailblazers who even now walk haltingly among us or are being wheeled in and out by another servant. These are the ones who have heard or are destined to hear the words, “Welcome, my good and faithful servant.”

In His grip, jerry

*My how time flies. A subsequent review of my photo of the McClelland dedication show that I took that picture and have been thinking about doing this post in August of 2013. Proof positive that I am a world class procrastinator.

Treasured Silence

    The character that I am writing has undertaken a study of the discipline of solitude and is using Foster’s Celebration of Discipline, The Path to Spiritual Growth as his primary source. Well, whatever my character studies, so must I. In a subsection titled “The Sacrifice of Fools” Foster is dealing with silence and the pain that the lack of it can bring when silence is really preferred. He has used a quote on the subject from John Woolman’s Journal that I feel is most poignant to me at the moment since I am now beginning a new term on Session. Please allow me to share the quote and my thoughts. It is a bit lengthy so I’ll break it up a bit as I comment.

     “I went to meetings in an awful frame of mind, and endeavored to be inwardly acquainted with the language of the true Shepherd. One day, being under a strong exercise of spirit, I stood up and said some words in a meeting; but not keeping close to the Divine opening, I said more than was required of me. Being soon sensible of my error, I was afflicted in mind some weeks, without any light or comfort, even to that degree that I could not take satisfaction in anything.”

     I have endeavored over my career at AT&T as well as in meetings of service, both in the church and in other volunteer settings, to say only what needs to be said and to be quiet if everything that needs to be said is being said. I prefer to speak up only when pertinent points of view are being expressed but not really heard or if what I believe is the correct course of action is not being expressed at all. I frequently fall short of this goal and as Brother Woolman has expressed here, I’ve said more than was needed at the time.

     I have felt bad about it but probably not to the depth Woolman shares with us in his journal. Like him, I seek forgiveness for speaking out of turn and off point, especially when my words distract from the purpose of the meeting and lead to a waste of time, or worse yet as in church meetings where this can be hurtful to others as well as harmful to God’s purpose. Woolman’s quote continues and brings me a measure of hope.

“I remembered God, and was troubled, and in the depth of my distress he had pity upon me, and sent the Comforter. I then felt forgiveness for my offence; my mind became calm and quiet, and I was truly thankful to my gracious Redeemer for his mercies.”

     I think that the pathway to a Holy Silence leads us to a better understanding of God’s Will in things - our life and the life of the church as well as what we seek for our communities at large. The remainder of Brother Woolman’s quote tells us what the benefits of Devine Silence can bring.

“About six weeks after this, feeling the spring of Divine love opened, and a concern to speak, I said a few words in a meeting, in which I found peace. Being thus humbled and disciplined under the cross, my understanding became more strengthened to distinguish the pure spirit which inwardly move upon the heart, and which taught me to wait in silence sometimes many weeks together, until I felt that rise which prepares the creature to stand like a trumpet, through which the Lord speaks to his flock.”

     If I’m in a meeting and you think that I’m being silent, I hope that it is because everything that I think needs to be said and heard is being said and heard. Likewise, if I’m speaking, let’s pray that it is because I have something meaningful to say and that it should be something we need to hear.

In His grip, jerry