a surrender - 55

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

But stepping out onto the road again, after being in a warm, safe place, always brought back a cold shiver of vulnerability. Even more so this year. I sometimes tried to imagine how I would react if Heather and I were threatened, way out in some isolated place. The thought of her being attacked scared me badly. But God had protected me out on the road for years, and we both trusted God to protect us now.

I also tried to plan our path carefully. We could stop in libraries along the way and check maps online, and even see where there were places we could buy food and possibly find shelter for the night. But there were occasional surprises. The day after we left Tom’s house, a church that I thought we could stop at just wasn’t where the map said it would be.

So we had to keep walking. It was late, already dark. Really dark. We happened to be walking through a national forest and there was nothing around but trees and night noises and the occasional rush of a passing car. Then I heard a vehicle coming up behind us, and it sounded like it was slowing down. My heart started beating faster. It was definitely slowing down. I felt extremely isolated. The vehicle was pulling up next to us. I turned to look.

“Y’all need a ride?” The man smiled and gestured to the bed of his pickup truck. 

I was so relieved I couldn’t say anything, but Heather said yes, and we climbed into the back. After a blustery ten mile ride, we were dropped off close to the next town. And right there was a church porch we could sleep on.

A couple days later we came to a church in the evening, and hoped we could stop there for the night. But there were people there, a group just leaving a baby shower. We introduced ourselves. Sometimes we told people we were on “a pilgrimage,” sometimes “a faith walk.” These women seemed like they would understand “a faith walk” better. They invited us in, and promptly put some leftover fried chicken in front of us, potato salad, and sweet tea. Heather tasted it and grinned. “Now I know I’m in the South,” she said. One of the women called someone, to ask if we could stay at the church that night, but couldn’t get permission. Undeterred, she tried again, calling her own pastor at another church. Then she took us there. The pastor showed up to make sure we were comfortable. The next morning he took us to breakfast, and drove us to a library down the road. We talked all the way. I remember smiling at Heather when his cell phone started ringing. “When The Saints Go Marching In,” Dixieland style. 

Continued... 

a surrender - 54

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

A couple weeks later we arrived at a church Wednesday night, just as people were going in. So we joined them. After worship, since it was already dark, I asked the pastor if we could sleep outside the church. He seemed reluctant. “There’s been some problems,” he said, “and the police come around here….” When I asked if he thought we should just move on down the road, though, he grew more uncomfortable, then consulted with one of the other men. They offered us the man’s shed for the night. But then another man, who had overheard our conversation, stepped in. “I’ll take care of them tonight,” he said. We stopped by his house where his wife made us sandwiches, then he took us looking for a motel. As it turned out, a motel wasn’t easy to find. He ended up driving us all the way to the town where my friend Tom lives, where we had planned to stop for a few days.

Tom is a potter who I first visited on a walk five years earlier. He lived with his young son, Slate, who has cerebral palsy, but whose eagerness and energy make it easy to not notice the crutches. Tom’s home, his little gallery, and his workshop and kiln shed were tucked back into the woods, a comfortable place to rest for a while. And he had become quite the pizza chef since I had seen him last. The first night he served us pizza with gorgonzola and pear on handmade plates, each one beautiful and unique. And the day after that, he showed Heather how he was making some small platters, and she got her hands in the clay and shaped fifteen of them. I was happy to see her enjoying that new experience. Later, admiring the pottery, we noticed a lovely chalice and plate set that was meant for celebrating communion. When we asked about purchasing it, Tom gave it to us. He mailed it back to the farm, where we would use it to serve communion to the guests that came for retreats with us. Our bellies and our hearts were very full when we said goodbye to Tom and Slate.

Continued... 

a surrender - 53

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

About a month later, after a hard and lonely week and a half, when we talked with almost no one and slept outside every night, we were offered a ride by a couple of young guys in a red sports car, blaring music by Rage Against The Machine. Not your stereotypical good Samaritans. But Heather thought they seemed okay, so we accepted. They proceeded to drive us up and down the shores of the beautiful river there, showing us the sights. Then zipped us across a wide dam. As we rode across, I was surprised to see a sign that said pedestrians weren’t allowed on the dam—our only way across the river. They took us right to the church we were hoping to visit the next morning. There we found a cluster of tall Boxwood shrubs that formed a leafy little cave next to the very old cemetery, and we settled in for the night. 

It was a Quaker meetinghouse. In the morning we first met a woman who had accidentally arrived early, and talked with her for an hour before the meeting. She then suggested to the small group that had gathered that Heather and I give a short talk before their silent prayer time, which makes up most of the worship. So we talked about our walk and answered questions. When someone asked us to lead them in a prayer, I offered the words of Charles de Foucauld: “Father, I abandon myself into your hands, do with me what you will… For I love you Lord, and so need to give myself—to surrender myself into your hands, without reserve, and with boundless confidence, for you are my father.” Then we all prayed in silence together.

The rest of the day it rained, but we were incredibly well cared for. Many people came up to us after the meeting, offering encouragement, praise, and gifts. The woman we had met first took us to her home for a lunch of fresh rainbow trout, and a warm shower. Then two other people from the meeting invited us all for dinner. We had a feast of rotisserie rosemary chicken and fresh sweet corn, wine, raspberry ice cream from a local dairy, and lots of lively conversation and encouragement. We were overwhelmed by the gift.

I was especially relieved, because I sometimes worried about Heather’s needs being met. I guess I felt responsible. It was one thing to suffer cold or hunger myself because I had taken this wild risk, but now I had led her into this risk with me. Or maybe it had been her idea, but I had encouraged it. So I was especially grateful when God provided for her needs generously. Not just good food and rest, but also friends and happy gatherings.

Continued... 

a surrender - 52

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

We worked on the farm for a few months, then we did something that Heather had once dreamed of. We took a long walk. It started with a bus ride to the east coast, where there was a church for homeless people, that met out on the streets. We joined them for an inspiring worship time, and tried to learn from their experience and approach. It seemed similar in many ways to what we hoped for our retreat house. I was especially impressed by their respect for the spiritual lives of the people who gathered there for worship. It wasn’t about preaching at them, but being their church community. That was very unusual, in my experience. I remember a suburban church I visited once on an earlier walk, that had bussed many homeless people in for a service, preached to them about hell’s eternal flames, and then sent them back to their shelter in the city. Ironically, the preacher had used Jesus’ story about a rich man and Lazarus, but he failed to notice that in that story it was the poor, suffering Lazarus who ended up comforted in heaven, and the rich man who ended up in the flames. Jesus very much respected the spiritual lives of those who were ignored and cast out of society, and they were the ones who heard him gladly.

As we started walking south from there, Heather quickly took to life on the road. When we couldn’t find shelter one rainy night, she figured out a way to rainproof a big playground structure using our rain ponchos. And the next day when she wanted a break, she found a quiet spot in the woods, hidden from the road. There was a small clearing next to a shallow, rocky stream. We napped for while, and I woke to bird songs and the sunlight winking through the leaves overhead. With Heather beside me.

Our first big challenge came about two weeks later. Heather had developed a very sore ankle, but it was difficult to rest it when we had no place to stay for an extended time. I thought we might have to end our walk. And then the next morning, after a breakfast of bread and milk, we ran out of food. I was impressed that Heather seemed so calm about it. I didn’t feel so calm. It rained as we walked through the city that day, so we were looking for shelter, and hungry, as we approached a church that night. There were two men in the parking lot. We briefly explained our walk and asked to sleep outside the church. Then one of them, the pastor, asked for a personal reference. So we gave him the phone number of one of the leaders of the church at the farm community. We watched as the pastor called and talked with her. Then he talked with his wife. Then he invited us into their home, and his wife put supper in front of us. For dessert, she brought out a warm, homemade blueberry pie.

We had a good talk with them the next morning, over breakfast. And then they surprised us by offering a generous gift of money, too. We were so relieved and grateful. I left a thank you note behind, with Jesus’ words: “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me… as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.” 

The next day we used some of the money to get arch supports for Heather’s sandals. And her ankle pain went away.

Continued... 

a surrender - 51

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

We were amazed by the response to our presentation. Though some hard questions were asked, what we heard from them was almost completely positive. There was a surprising feeling of energy from the community, and the sense that we all wanted to work together to figure out a way through the difficulties. Our personal visits with a number of people in the following days confirmed that impression. We were thrilled.

“I will give you rest,” the wind had whispered in the pines. After working so hard, for months without a pause to catch our breath, and searching and struggling for two years until we were about to give up, the answer had been on a cluttered desk, in a newsletter about a retreat house for poor people. And a memory of a farm once visited. It felt like a miraculous gift.

The next morning I woke up even earlier and couldn’t sleep any more. But this time it felt like I was a kid on Christmas morning. I didn’t want to miss anything.

Three months later, we were married. A beautiful, grassy clearing in the woods was offered for the ceremony, and a simple cabin for our honeymoon. The cake was amazing, decorated with wild Sweet William blossoms, a gift made by a woman who lived on the farm. Heather’s aunt offered to arrange the flowers. Her uncle, the pastor, performed the marriage and her aunt, the music director at their church, arranged and performed the songs we had chosen, along with other musician friends. A friend gave me a beautiful Guatemalan shirt to wear. And Heather made her lovely white wedding dress. Many other people at the farm volunteered to help set up and decorate, and clean up afterwards, and also offered hospitality to many of our friends and family from out of town. And to us as well. An older couple had shared their home with us when we moved to the farm, and continued to do so through the first few months of our marriage.

During the wedding, under a towering oak, tinged with the new green of spring, Heather and I read to everyone from the psalms:

This poor man cried, 
and the Lord heard him, 
and saved him 
out of all his troubles. 
O taste and see 
that the Lord is good; 
happy are those 
who take refuge in God. 

The sparrow 
has found a home,
and the swallow 
a nest for herself, 
where she may lay 
her young.
O magnify the Lord 
with me,
let us exalt God’s name 
together.
I sought the Lord, 
and he answered me, 
and delivered me 
from all my fears.

Look to God, 
and be radiant; 
so your faces will never 
be ashamed.  

Continued...

a surrender - 50

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven)

 

freely have you received,

freely give

 

I woke up very early on the morning we were meeting with the farm community. Hours before dawn. This was the day that we would ask them if we could start a retreat house here and invite poor people. Their answer would determine if this was finally the place where Heather and I could live and work together. And maybe start a family. After years of looking and trying, it felt like we were running out of time. If we couldn’t live here either, it seemed maybe we should stop trying, maybe we weren’t meant to have a life together. It hurt to think about that. But more than once in the previous months, people from the farm had cautioned us not to get our hopes up. The timing didn’t seem right. There just wasn’t the space right now. These thoughts and feelings crowded around me in the cold darkness.  

I got out of bed and wrapped a coat around my shoulders. Sat on the floor and closed my eyes. And tried not to think about the news of the night before, that a tornado had hit the town where my parents live (and that I got only out-of-service signals when I tried to call). I tried not to think about what Heather and I would do if our idea was rejected that morning. I tried to focus on the psalm that had pressed itself into my mind the day before. “This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles.” I tried to feel God’s presence, reassurance, support. It was so dark out. I felt so helpless.

I don’t know how long I sat there. I think the sound of the whispering crept into my consciousness before I looked out the window and saw it. The wind in the pines. It was bright enough by then to see the movement, the gentle swaying. I watched the trees dancing and remembered the church courtyard.

Then I rose in the peace of that moment and ate and walked with Heather through the snow to find out what God had for us.

Continued...

a surrender - 49

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

I had come to be a hero, and in less than a year I had been reduced to nothing. It felt like utter failure. But I don’t think it actually was, any more than that dark moment in the monastery garden had been a failure. The power of God comes through surrender, the surrender of the broken. And at that moment I was much closer to surrender again than when I had arrived at that house. It was true that I had miserably little to give. But God had much to give. I was starting to realize that if I was really going to help anyone, it wouldn’t be by my heroic efforts. It would be by telling and showing them the truth. So they could be helped in the same way I was being helped. It would be by pointing them to the power of God, like Jesus did. There’s nothing heroic about that. There are no heroes in the kingdom of God.

A month later, Heather and I were preparing to leave. After a long correspondence, we were going to the retreat house I had read about. Then there was a knock at the front door, and someone asked for me. And there was Richard and Cassie on the porch again. They were smiling. They had jobs now, and a place to live. They had heard we were leaving and wanted to stop by and say thank you. I was happy for them. I didn’t know if they would really make it this time, but I hoped they would. It didn’t feel to me like there was much to thank me for. But I was grateful to them for coming to tell me their good news.

Heather and I liked the retreat house. After more than two years together, we thought we might finally have found a place where we could live and start a family. One night we danced round and round under the bright moon, we were so hopeful. But after two weeks there, the couple that ran the place sat us down. They told us, in astonishingly harsh and accusing terms, all the things we had done wrong. And there would be no chance for us to try to understand and improve. We had to go. We were so shocked that both of us started crying right there, while they were still talking.

The next day, I remembered another community we had visited, like the one where Heather and I met, only it was way out in the country, on a farm. I suddenly thought that would be a good place to start a retreat house.

 

Continued...

a surrender - 48

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

Soon after, I took a few weeks away. Some friends at the community where Heather and I met had asked if I’d be willing to teach some computer skills to the man I used to care for. It seemed like a good time to take a break, so I was glad to do it.

When I came back, I happened to see a newsletter on a cluttered desk. It was about a retreat house for poor people. A married couple had worked in a house like ours for many years, then moved out to the country and started a retreat house. They invited people from shelters and other ministries to come for weekend spiritual retreats. For free. They even paid their transportation costs. It sounded very interesting to me, so I contacted them. They were looking for volunteers, and suggested we get more familiar with the spiritual approach of 12-step programs (like Al-Anon), and keep in touch with them.

That made me feel hopeful. But then I also happened to hear that Richard was in jail. And the woman that Heather had taken to the motel was homeless again, and was showing up at our house sometimes, loudly demanding things. James had been asked to stop camping out in the back yard. His frequent drinking and drug use was attracting other users. It felt overwhelming.

Then, about a week later, Richard showed up after dark and asked for me. He said he was depressed again, needing to talk to someone. He showed me his left wrist. It was mostly healed, but there were jagged gouges in the flesh, and metal staples that had been used to close the wound. I sat with him for a few minutes, heard that this had been his thirteenth suicide attempt, and suddenly felt that I was in way over my head. I listened to him a bit more. I mentioned my Al-Anon experience and asked him if he’d considered a group like that. Then I helped him call a local pastor he knew (who wasn’t home) and the local suicide-prevention crisis line. That call didn’t seem to go very well. After talking a while he grew frustrated and hung up, storming off. I couldn’t stop him.

I prayed for him that night. I wished I had done better. I wished I had more to offer him. But I felt like I had nothing left. Whatever I had to give had always been too little, and now even that was gone.

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a surrender - 47

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

I was also starting to realize how tired I was. Heather, too. We tried to take more breaks, and found a good Irish pub nearby, with musicians on the weekends. We found an Al-Anon group nearby, too. It was for relatives and friends of alcoholics and addicts, to support one another as they struggled to cope with their unique, overwhelming challenges. That was good. We respected how humble the people there were, beaten down by the pain and terrible choices they grappled with day after day. And I also focused on Jesus’ words:

Come to me, 
all you who labor 
and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest. 

Take my yoke upon you, 
and learn from me, 
for I am gentle 
and lowly in heart, 
and you will find rest 
for your souls. 

For my yoke is easy 
and my burden is light.

I thought I had followed Jesus in coming here, but now I didn’t think he was the one who had been pushing me so hard. Other people, maybe. Or maybe it was me? I’m the one who came here wanting to be a hero.

I also started visiting a church in town. It was about a mile away, and the walking felt good. I didn’t go into the church, though. There was a big cross in the courtyard, with several tall pines framing it and a huge, old maple tree that offered a shady spot in the grass. And it was quiet. I would sit there and pray. Often the wind could be heard in the pine trees, gently swaying them. It felt like the presence of God to me. It seemed to be softly whispering, “I will give you rest.”

A few weeks later, we told another guest she had to leave. Her behavior had been growing more and more erratic, and she was becoming noticeably paranoid. We suspected she hadn’t been taking her psychiatric medication. She never left her room, except for meals. The other guests were getting nervous. We tried and tried, but she refused to accept the fact that she needed medication. I didn’t know her very well, but I went to her room, to try to convince her that this wasn’t a good place for her any more. I told her I wasn’t sure it was a good place for me either. I cried saying it. Maybe it was good for me to admit that, but it didn’t seem to help her much. The volunteers offered to pay for a motel room for her for a few nights and we helped her pack. The next day, she left. She was hostile and sullen. But when Heather dropped her off at the motel, the woman gave her a hug.

Continued... 

a surrender - 46

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

It was around that time that our housemates decided that Cassie and Richard had to go. He sometimes slept on our porch, when he couldn’t get a bed at a men’s shelter. But they both had been drinking more often. One night, Cassie got into a loud, drunken argument and launched into a shocking racist rant against her roommate. Another time, when Cassie was refusing to talk to Richard, he pushed past me and charged up the stairs to the women’s private rooms, yelling her name. It took a long time to convince him to leave. It might have been during that time they were not talking that Richard showed up late one evening, drunk and very distressed. He told me he was worried he would harm himself. I let him sleep in my room that night, so he wouldn’t be alone. They eventually reconciled, but soon after, Cassie was caught letting Richard in the back door one night. That was the last straw. I had tried so hard to be patient and help them. Now, because I had been involved with them the most, I was the one chosen to tell them they had to leave.

That’s when I began having doubts. It really felt bad to put them back out on the street. I understood that letting them stay would be bad for the other guests in the house. I could see that it was probably necessary to kick people out sometimes, to keep a house like this safe and available for those in need. But it still felt bad. What did Jesus say? “From one who takes away your goods do not demand them back.” That felt a lot better to me. But how could we do that and keep a house like this running? I didn’t know that we could. And I realized that Jesus didn’t have to face the question of kicking someone out, since he was homeless himself. He helped people, but not with money or property. Not with anything people could steal from him, or take advantage of. And he didn’t have anything that made him the master, that put in him in control of other people’s lives. What Jesus had to give was very different. It didn’t come from people, it came from God. I began wondering, how could I give like he did?

Continued...