The Fruited Plain

Last Sunday I preached at two small churches out on the plains. When I got the email asking if I was available I jumped at the opportunity. In Toledo I had plenty of Lutheran and United Methodist offers for supply work (when you fill in for a pastor on a Sunday). Since we moved here, I've only preached at my husband's church (which was wonderful). I told my husband, “I've never been so excited to drive an hour to preach to 20 people.”

It surprised me how excited I was, I guess you don't always realize how much you miss something until it is back. I went from preaching every Sunday to once per month to twice in six months. Honestly, I'm on the fence about whether or not supply work is for me. I get anxious about arrangements for the kids since their dad is also working. If it is not a United Methodist service I get nervous about keeping the liturgy straight. I hate the feeling of skipping something or saying the wrong thing. It also feels a little weird to leave the church with my robe folded over my arm, a check in my hand and no relationship with any of the people. But I love preaching, I love meeting new people, I love leading worship and I see this as a unique opportunity to experience and learn from the ways in which other churches operate. Every time I preach I feel renewed, a bit more like myself again and grateful to the pastor that invited me and the people who opened their ears and hearts to me.

So off I went. The kids were dressed, fed and given backpacks filled with more than they could possibly need for the morning. A wonderful babysitter would pick them up after the early service at their church and they would come home to full lunchboxes neatly arranged on the kitchen counter.

I was really looking forward to the drive and thankful that it was east and not west. East is flat, west is mountains and I'm still a little nervous driving the curvy mountain roads out here. I try not to look out the side window when we go on these roads with very little margin between pavement and huge rocky drop off. I am baffled as to why these mountainous roads lack guardrails, but comforted by the fact that since we moved here I have never heard of a car randomly plummeting off a mountain highway.

The flat terrain felt familiar. It reminded me a bit of my old daily commute to Woodville, except this place does open spaces like nowhere I have ever lived. As far as the eye can see is very far. The sun was bright and green surrounded me on all sides. The empty road was bordered by yellow and purple wild flowers. As I left the city there were hot air balloons and parachutes on the horizon to the south. It was refreshing and an opportunity to be reflective. Just the fact that I was alone felt exciting and energizing. As a stay at home mom with no extended family even remotely nearby I am always with my kids. It's my choice, I love being with my family and I see it as a gift and a limited opportunity to spend so much time with them, but sometimes a break feels really good.

I drove toward the great big windmills and then soon was behind them. The speed limit dropped and there it was- a little white church with a nicely mowed lawn. I got out and sat on the front steps. I somehow always seem to be early. A lovely couple arrived and we spent the time before worship talking about their church, their children, their grandchildren and the journey that brought them to this town, population 400. The people began to come in. Fifteen including me, six of them children. And of course, because that's how life seems to be, there was a fellow Penguin there (graduate of my Alma Mater, Youngstown State University). Before I began, a kind man said, “don't be nervous, just have a good time.” I started to say, “oh I'm not nervous” but instead just said, “thank you, I'm looking forward to it.”

One of my favorite parts of the service was the part when the congregation got to select the hymn. All of the children immediately threw their hands in the air, “number 261!” they happily shouted. We sang 261, “Lord of the Dance” and the children got up from their seats next to their grandparents, went into the aisles and danced as they sang the memorized verses.

As I do for 600 or 6, I wore my vestments and preached my heart out. I left feeling as though I had worshiped. I felt cared for and grateful for a lovely morning. I got in my car and headed to the second church. It was a lovely building with an addition built in 1967. I wondered about their story. It's age showed, weeds and winds seemed to move more quickly than the small congregation could manage. I took a seat on the steps, under the bird's nest in the light fixture and breathed in the fresh country air. Across the street was a massive car junk yard and there wasn't much else by way of neighbors. The people were kind and rejoiced over each person who arrived. They usually get five for worship and that Sunday, counting me and the three month old, there were nine. There was a sound system and an organist. The candles were lit, announcements made and we prayed our way through the liturgy. During “Joys and Concerns” we found ourselves in a conversation about how annoying built up earwax can be and what a relief it is to have it removed, and we thanked God for that. I preached my heart out as I looked for eyes to make contact with. When the service ended we all found ourselves in the back of the church as everyone had some role to play in making the church function. This was not a place where one would come and slip out. Everyone was known and everyone worked to keep their church going. I drove away feeling uncertain about their future but in admiration of their stamina.

I made a right turn out of the parking lot and there was my purple mountain's majesty above the fruited plain. Pike's Peak lead the way home. I put down the windows, turned up Band of Horses and took in my last moments of alone time and flat ground. I felt renewed and grateful. Grateful for the opportunity, grateful for the people, grateful for the Holy Spirit showing up. I also felt grateful for the way my heart felt toward my denomination. I felt remorseful for the bad thoughts I had as I watched my denomination argue at the General Conference. I felt connected again, in a way that only happens when you worship together. This year was the first year since I can remember that I did not attend East Ohio Annual Conference (I'm counting the years I went to Youth Annual Conference as a teen and as a youth leader). There were four years when I served in West Ohio that I actually went to two annual conferences. So I felt strangely disconnected and these two little churches brought me home again. I suppose you can say they helped me realize that my heart is indeed still strangely warmed.