A Look Back at Music Week

What a week it has been!  Today is the last day of Music Week at Lutheridge.  The pastor of my South Florida church and his wife have stayed with us.  She participates in Music Week, while he goes off to photograph waterfalls.  My mom and dad have stayed at Lutheridge lodging, but we've seen them every day, often for the evening meal.  My spouse has also participated in Music Week.  I have still been deep in C.P.E., but I have done evening activities:  worship service on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, and the hymnfest last night at the gorgeous St. James Episcopal church in nearby Hendersonville.

The week has zoomed by.  Each morning, I've gone for a walk with my pastor's wife, who is a dear friend.  

We've left the house at 6 a.m., take our walk, had heart-to-heart conversations during our walk, and then returned for oatmeal.  Then I've gone off for chaplaincy training.

One morning on our walk, we noticed a car up the road that had stopped.  As we approached, the car pulled forward and told us to be careful, as there was a mother bear and 4 cubs down the driveway.

I couldn't get a shot of all of the bears, but I am sure that there were 4 cubs.  That made me so happy.  Various neighbors have seen a mother bear with two cubs, which made us wonder about the other cubs.  Now it seems we might have multiple bears in the neighborhood.  I'm glad to see that they've survived.

We are at the midway point of chaplaincy training.  I've spent part of the week writing a document about what I've learned so far and what I hope to learn in the remaining time.  It's a more complex document than one might expect.  We also spent a day in our cohort discussing what we've written and experienced.  A major part of CPE is the processing of it all, and I'm grateful for that aspect.

Summer is zooming by!  In some ways we're at the midway point of summer, but in fact, we're slightly past the midway point.  My online classes that I teach will end in just a few weeks, and my onground classes begin on August 12.

Our houseguests leave today, but my mom and dad will stay for the week-end.  I'm glad that we can all take the time to be together a bit longer, to linger in the midpoint of summer.

Christmas Carols in July

Yesterday a group of us walked off campus for lunch.  As we were walking down the hill to the gate, one of us shared that "Amazing Grace" can be sung to the tune of "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem."  He sang the first line to demonstrate:  "Amazing Grace, How Sweet the Sound."  We continued to sing the rest.

I said, "It's like Christmas caroling, only different."  A man walking in front of us said, "You guys sounded great to me.  I can barely manage to walk to my car in this heat, much less sing."

It made me wonder how various groups might respond to a Christmas Caroling in July kind of event.  Would patients like it or would we confuse them?  I had a vision of Christmas cookies and decorations, but that might be because I love Christmas.  I don't want to make extra work for people.

I'm thinking of Christmas in July week at camp, specifically at Lutheridge.  It's one of the more popular weeks.  If I was choosing a camp week, that would be the one I would choose.  Even when I was a kid, I would have chosen it.  The only thing that might have been more appealing would be a Left Alone to Read camp week, which as far as I know, doesn't exist.  Why go to summer camp to read?

Those of us who love to read know why.  You could ask the same thing about Christmas at camp, too, of course.  Why Christmas or reading when you could be hiking or canoeing?

It's a larger question that some of us keep coming back to--what is the purpose of camp?  There are many answers, and we don't have to choose just one.

In fact, for future viability, it might be important to choose them all.

Praying for Peace in the World, with Map and Candles

This year, because of CPE,  I can't participate in Music Week the way I have in the past.  But I can go to evening worship.

Last night when we arrived at the chapel, a map of the world was spread out across the center of the worship space.  We picked up battery operated tea light candles as we entered.

Photo by Piper Spencer

The focus of last night's worship was praying for peace in the world.  Near the end of the service, as we sang "Dona Nobis Pacem," we were encouraged to put our candles on a part of the map that we were praying for, and to widen our focus so that we didn't include just the U.S.

Photo by Piper Spencer

As you might be able to tell, the map is not to scale, so I wasn't sure exactly where I placed my candle.  But I thought that aspect worked symbolically too.  If I just pray for peace in the U.S., that peace is much less stable when the rest of the world is not peaceful.  I don't necessarily need to be able to visualize a specific country when I pray for peace in the world, although that prayer practice has merit.

When in doubt, without a doubt, let us pray for peace in the whole world.

Camp Recollections in a Time of Floods

The news has been full of reports out of Texas, of flash floods that came in the darkness and swept campers away--and whole camps that were at the water's edge.  These reports remind me of  Hurricane Helene reports, in the way that there were warnings that got increasingly dire, and then the situation became increasingly dire.  I read about one couple in a campground that went to sleep in a gentle rain and were swept away by the Toe River; one of their bodies has yet to be found.

I am thinking of my own time leading Girl Scouts on a backpacking trip by the Chatooga River.  It was summer, so we slept under tarps.  The  first night there was a terrifying thunderstorm, and we all huddled together, with girls crying to go home, right now, please.  Eventually the storm passed, and we settled into an exhausted sleep.

In the morning, the girls still wanted to go home, and I was inclined to agree.  Happily, our leader wasn't having any of it.  We packed our wet gear, hiked to the next site, and spread it all out to dry, which it did by bedtime.  The rest of the backpacking trip passed with no incident, and in the end, we were glad we stuck with it.

I wonder if those girls heard the reports of cabins swept away and thought back to that storm.  In our case, from what I could tell, the river didn't rise, and the rainfall wasn't abnormal.  I was more worried about lightning than floods--it was a different time.

In that pre-cell phone time, we couldn't have gone home after that first stormy night, even if we had wanted to, at least not easily.  We'd have had to hike back to the place where we began the hike and then had to find a phone and then called the home Girl Scout camp, which was a day's drive away.  By the time they would have come for us, we would have had a day or two of waiting.  Far better to be out on the trail, hiking towards the  pick up point further down the river.  I can say that because no one was hurt, and there were no other threats looming.

Last night, a different kind of camp started--it's Music Week at Lutheridge!  It will be a different kind of week for me; I will miss a lot of it.  But I plan to go to evening events.  Last night was Holden Evening Prayer at the chapel, as the sun set.  It was a peaceful way to offset the news stories about a different camp experience, far away in Texas.

The Boss and Me

I have noticed that I am standing up straighter as I make my rounds during the work day.  Sadly, I still have a fairly hunched over posture when I sit at the computer.  I also try to smile and project a peaceful presence throughout the day.  

On Thursday,  a much older man said to me, "You look like somebody who knows she's the boss."  I smiled, and he said, "No really, you look like the person who's in charge of this place."  I said, "I assure you, I am not the boss."  It was a kinder interchange than it sounds here on the page.

In some ways, it felt evolved--instead of being complimented on my looks or my smile, the man might have been complimenting me on something career related.  But it also made me think of that whole pre-Covid movement for women to claim their authority, to act more like men who were in charge, that whole Bosslady trend that spawned a billion TikToks and memes and merchandising.  I am not the Bosslady, nor was meant to be, to paraphrase Shakespeare or T. S. Eliot.

As I took my walk back to the elevator, I thought about other ways I could have responded.  I thought about Bruce Springsteen and all the song lyrics I could have offered in response:  "Tramps like us, baby we were born to run."  But I suspect that most people wouldn't get that reference.  I thought about how I would be happy to be more like Springsteen, a man who really is the boss in so many ways.  But his touring schedule would be exhausting.

I thought of Bruce Springsteen yesterday as I was taking a walk around camp.  Because I had the federal holiday off of work, I went later than usual.  I saw the campers gathering for Morning Watch, and I heard the blast of music, the opening chords to Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A.," an interesting choice for Independence Day.  I thought of politicians who have tried to co-opt the song without listening to the lyrics.  It is such an amazing song, and it was my Springsteen entry drug.  I remember buying the record that contained the song (yes, on vinyl) in the early days of fall semester 1984, where I was at Wal-Mart buying a fan for my dorm room that had no air conditioning.  I have never loved another Springsteen album the way I LOVED that one:  all the songs are great, and there's a narrative arc (or maybe it's just a theme that connects them all) when one listens straight through.

The playlist for the campers' Morning Watch went to John Mellencamp's "R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A.," a much happier song lyrically.  And later, I heard them singing "The Star Spangled Banner," voices drifting down the hill to where I stood at the berry brambles, eating as many black raspberries as were ripe.  

It was a perfect start to Independence Day 2025, which included hamburgers AND hot dogs, a watching of Independence Day (which I had not seen again since I saw it in the theatre on the week-end it was released), and a neighborhood potluck.

Fourth of July Morning in the Mountains

Fourth of July morning, birds in full-throated song, a cool morning compared to morning temperatures elsewhere in the northern hemisphere.  A huge budget bill passed yesterday, and yes, it sounds apocalyptic, but I've seen apocalyptic budget bills, and other types of legislation, come and go, and sometimes it is every bit as bad as predicted, sometimes less, sometimes the world goes sidewise in another direction that has nothing to do with the bill.

Fourth of July morning, a Friday, which means a three day week-end.  Music Week starts on Sunday, which means I have some shopping and cleaning to do.  I need to think about what's in the study that I use on a daily basis--the study is about to become a guest room.  I will still be reporting for work at 8 a.m., Music Week or no Music Week.  I will need some of the clothes and shoes that are in the closet in the study.

Fourth of July morning, with a sermon still to write.  I think it will be a sermon that looks at dangerous ideas, Jesus' dangerous ideas and Jefferson's.  Too brave?  This will be the 3rd early July sermon with this congregation--let me do a quick look to see what I've done before.  Cool--I haven't done it before.  Part of my sermon writing problem this week is that I have too many ideas, which is not always the case.

Fourth of July morning, a baking morning.  I made cookies because I'm going to a neighbor's backyard party later today.  Today is going to be an eat with abandon day.  Or maybe it won't.  My counting of calories and writing them down is working--I've lost the weight I gained in May when I had a few weeks of abandon.  Being alcohol free is working--today will not be a drinking day.  Freedom!

Fourth of July morning, a day that may or may not celebrate freedom, a day that may or may not tell us what independence means.  I'm thinking of those founders of the U.S. who signed their names to a document that was treason, in the eyes of their government. They pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. Each July 4, and most other days too, I think about my own life, my own beliefs. To what would I pledge my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor?

Fourth of July morning, and I can't resist posting again these favorite pictures, me dressed as a Colonist fighter, my Dad with a British soldier coat, both of us standing in front of a painting of British soldiers:

I have always been amazed that the rowdy colonists could pull off this defeat of the greatest empire in the world at the time. I don't think it's only that they were fighting on their home territory that helped them win. Plenty of people fight to defend their homes and don't win.

Fourth of July morning, a good day to say prayers of thanks for those who have done the hard work of fighting for liberties of all sorts and to pray for those who are still oppressed. Let us pledge allegiance to our God who yearns to set us free.

Notes on the Halfway Point of Summer

I am at the end of week 4 of chaplaincy training.  July has begun.  We are at the halfway point of summer camp at Lutheridge.  Let me make a few notes.

--My cold has a long tail.  I can go through much of my day only coughing occasionally.  I'm no longer blowing my nose each hour.  But I still have a slightly scratchy throat.  If I talk for too long, I need a drink of water, and I don't feel like I can count on my voice.

--I have been wearing Saucony running shoes to work every day.  I am channeling that 80's woman commuting to work on public transportation--but I'm not changing into heels when I get to the office.  It's a new level of frumpiness for me.  But I am able to spend much of the day on my feet without excruciating back pain at night, so I'll stick with frumpy comfort.

--Music Week at Lutheridge starts on Sunday.  It will be a different experience for me this year--but I'm hoping I still get some quality time with friends and family who are coming through for Music Week.

--We are at so many halfway points:  summer is halfway over, Lutheridge summer camp is halfway over, the year is halfway over.  I wonder where we will be at the halfway point of next summer.  Hopefully I will be meeting with my candidacy committee to proceed to endorsement, which is usually a halfway point to ordination, but in my case, I'm doing things a bit out of order.  At Lutheran seminaries, students would do CPE much earlier, often in the summer after the first year, and then they'd get to endorsement sometime in the following year, before internship (year 3 of seminary) and the last year of seminary. 

--This week, my sketching was lifted up as one of my gifts that I should use in ministry.  I never really thought about my sketching as one of my gifts. I still think of myself as not good at visual art at all.

--As I've been training in various office spaces, I've discovered art supplies stashed away--a delight!  I found a tin box of Crayola markers, but much better quality markers than the Crayola label would imply.  The red marker is missing, which makes me wonder what happened to it.  Did someone love it and take it?  Did it run out of ink?

--I arrived early to rounds and discovered a guitar in the corner of the small conference room.  I strummed it, and to my untrained ears, it sounded like it was in tune.  I assumed that it belonged to someone who might not appreciate me playing it.  But no one is sure who owns it or how it came to be there.  Was it a person who once did music therapy?  That seems most likely, but why would that person leave the guitar behind?

--I looked up the chords to "This Land Is Your Land."  I reminded myself that I am not a guitar player.  I thought about getting my ukulele and bringing it on rounds--but I need a year or two of practice before I might be able to count the ukulele as one of my spiritual gifts