Since moving to Meadville we've met most of our neighbors (well, Jim has met most of them, while working in the yard). They have kindly welcomed us to the neighborhood, reminding us of the loveliness and hospitality to be found in a small-town neighborhood. The kids are sweet, too (here's a shout out to Cameron, Page and Riley, who always yell, "Hi, New Neighbor!" when they see me outside).
While Jim was installing our meager-by-comparison Halloween decorations, another neighbor walked over to introduce himself. Their conversation went something like this:
Neighbor: "So, your wife's the new Unitarian minister here?"
Jim: "Yes, she is."
Neighbor: "Well, sorry about that."
Jim: [stunned silence]
As Jim said later, how do you respond to something like that? And why would you want to? Jim's choice was just to ignore the guy.
When I heard the story, I just kind of shook my head in disbelief. His front porch roof includes a beautiful stained glass depiction of someone kneeling in prayer in the shadow of a cross...by the artwork I'm assuming that he is Christian...unfortunately, his actions and words did not convey that message. The Jesus I've learned about would be shaking his head in disbelief, too, maybe saying, "Not really what I meant when I taught that you love God by loving your neighbor." Not much loving there, but judgment, disrespect, and rudeness aplenty! It was the spiritual equivalent to the infamous rock that thuds its way into Charlie Brown's bag as a Halloween "treat."
What will I do? I will be kind to him, because I am a person of faith and a minister grounded in an ancient and living faith tradition that calls me to take the long view, toward possibility, rather than a vindictive or disrespectful view that closes off any chance of human connection. I'll turn the other cheek. I won't seek him out and subject myself to his rudeness, but neither will I ignore or disrespect him if I see him outside. The truth is, I feel a bit sorry for the guy...how hard and closed must one's heart and mind be if offering an insult is really the best welcome you have to offer a new neighbor?
Open doors are always more welcoming than closed ones; lively, respectful conversation always more fun and informative than the dull thuds of insults. Fortunately, we have received many more open doors and sweet responses than dull and thudding rocks when meeting the people in our new hometown, and we are grateful for their "treats" of welcome, simple human respect, and hospitality!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Chipmonk Sentinels
I was astounded to log in to my blog and realize that it's been almost a month since I posted! Time flies when you're having fun, and when you're immersing yourself in a new life.
The minister's office in this Parish House offers a lovely, lovely view onto Diamond Park, the center of Meadville. Work in the last 8 weeks has included shifting furniture around in the minister's office to take advantage of the view, a world framed in green at varying levels, from the ground cover plants to the shade tree, and all the bushes in between. The chipmonks make mad dashes from bush to groundcover, and back again, marking the passing of the day. This afternoon one took a breather on a ledge right outside my window, hunkered out of the chilly wind, and I had the chance to study it for awhile -- I've never seen a chipmonk in stillness, and he/she was quite beautiful in all his brown/red/black/white wonder, with almond eyes that were taking in the same view that I enjoy every day.
Some trees are beginning to show their fall colors; many are losing their leaves; and I know that soon my view onto the Diamond will be framed by bare branches and snow-blanketed bushes that hunker in their own way, faithfully waiting for Spring. I am glad for this minister's study, with its beautiful view, this sanctuary that lets me ponder, pray, write, organize, imagine, counsel, care and dream of many passing seasons in this community, as I gratefully serve this congregation.
The busy-ness of the day calls...I have a sermon to write, and an animal blessing, and two classes for which I need to prepare, and a newsletter article to write, and a pastoral call to make...I am as busy as my chipmonk sentinels, racing back and forth with purpose, and always grateful for this blessed work to which I have been called. But I am grateful for this afternoon's respite, in the good company of a lingering chipmonk whose own gaze reminded me to take time for gazing.
The minister's office in this Parish House offers a lovely, lovely view onto Diamond Park, the center of Meadville. Work in the last 8 weeks has included shifting furniture around in the minister's office to take advantage of the view, a world framed in green at varying levels, from the ground cover plants to the shade tree, and all the bushes in between. The chipmonks make mad dashes from bush to groundcover, and back again, marking the passing of the day. This afternoon one took a breather on a ledge right outside my window, hunkered out of the chilly wind, and I had the chance to study it for awhile -- I've never seen a chipmonk in stillness, and he/she was quite beautiful in all his brown/red/black/white wonder, with almond eyes that were taking in the same view that I enjoy every day.
Some trees are beginning to show their fall colors; many are losing their leaves; and I know that soon my view onto the Diamond will be framed by bare branches and snow-blanketed bushes that hunker in their own way, faithfully waiting for Spring. I am glad for this minister's study, with its beautiful view, this sanctuary that lets me ponder, pray, write, organize, imagine, counsel, care and dream of many passing seasons in this community, as I gratefully serve this congregation.
The busy-ness of the day calls...I have a sermon to write, and an animal blessing, and two classes for which I need to prepare, and a newsletter article to write, and a pastoral call to make...I am as busy as my chipmonk sentinels, racing back and forth with purpose, and always grateful for this blessed work to which I have been called. But I am grateful for this afternoon's respite, in the good company of a lingering chipmonk whose own gaze reminded me to take time for gazing.
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