I just have a few minutes to reflect on our youth trip to New Orleans for the National Lutheran Youth Gathering. We're here July 22-26. There are 37,000 Lutherans here, the biggest convention to come to the city since Hurricane Katrina.
Of course it's hot and humid but there are more important things to say. So, a few highlights so far.
The gathering folks divided kids into three major groups (gold, green and purple, Mardi Gras-style). Each group takes one day at each of three activities. The first day we did a servant project, day two we visited the learning centers and day three the interaction center.
For the servant project, we all donned orange T-shirts and went throughout the city doing good, or as best we could. Some visited schools, some built homes, others did yard work or weeding. I cannot imagine the logistics it takes to coordinate 12,000 volunteers each day. And they gave us lunch!
We volunteered at a traditionally African-American cemetary where graves are dug by hand just four feet deep and bodies are buried atop each other. The plot was covered in weeds and stones all akimbo. We spent about four hours yanking up weeds, bagging them, and setting headstones right again. Each stone is a life story, a web of relationships and it was powerful to brush off the dirt and place it right again. We hoped someone would keep working to beautify the plot long after we left it.
More later; it's time to get back to "my kids" as I call them and onto the next event...
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
One more night in Brevig
The blog posting keeps getting later and later. It's almost midnight and of course the ATVs (they call them Hondas) are cruising by and I hear kids shouting and laughing. A few members of my Anchorage team are visiting softly. The weather is mostly clear without a breeze and several mosquitos have snuck in and buzz near my ankles.
Today was our last day of VBS and we were pretty exhausted when it came time for evening devotions. Good thing no one got up until after 9 am. Well, I got up a little earlier and went on a run to the dump and back. Hey, don't knock in 'til you've tried it! It's also the only long stretch of gravel road. It's too difficult to run on the beach.
It was less windy this morning than yesterday so I got in about 35 minutes, maybe 4 miles. The hills behind Brevig were clear. I like my alone time in the morning with the land and with the sea.
The kids had another good day of crafts and coloring, skits and songs. I love hearing them sing "At the Cross" at the top of their lungs, though it's often more a scream than a song. We made fish and glued them to a mural to hang on the church wall. The kids got pretty creative with their decorations. It's a very good mural with a few starfish too.
Susan and I went visiting just before Bible school started. I went to visit a woman I have known from my years here. She was the mother of the baby who died earlier this year and who I had visited at the native hospital in Anchorage. What a lovely hostess and what a beautiful story of faith despite difficult times. I was blessed by her sharing her story of her baby's life and death and how her faith held her fast. I was moved by the experience and her honesty.
Speaking of being moved, I got a surprise when one of the older teens called today and offered to lead Eskimo drumming and dancing tonight. I had seen him earlier in the week and made the request but he seemed evasive. So he came, along with a bunch of others, some to drum, some to dance, many to to watch.
The drums are just circles of skin stretched across big wooden hoops. The sticks look so frail but the sound is powerful, intense. I love the sound of the singing. It's repetitive, booming, haunting.
I love watching the leader, Travis, sing and play the drum. I'm not sure how old he is now, but when I first came in 2004 he was a middle school-aged kid who followed us around like an eager puppy. Now he's a man, the leader of the drummers, and one of the VPOs (village police officers). I'm so proud of him and it moves me to see him as he is now.
I could mention we also had our VBS program and community meal. A good time, always, but a smaller attendance this evening. Pastor Brian's wife Ginger said there was another meeting in town at the same time. Also, we'd forgotten to put up posters. Still, we fed at least 75 (that's adults and kids) so word does travel fast in the village.
Enough for tonight. The house is finally silent and I'm ready to turn in.
Today was our last day of VBS and we were pretty exhausted when it came time for evening devotions. Good thing no one got up until after 9 am. Well, I got up a little earlier and went on a run to the dump and back. Hey, don't knock in 'til you've tried it! It's also the only long stretch of gravel road. It's too difficult to run on the beach.
It was less windy this morning than yesterday so I got in about 35 minutes, maybe 4 miles. The hills behind Brevig were clear. I like my alone time in the morning with the land and with the sea.
The kids had another good day of crafts and coloring, skits and songs. I love hearing them sing "At the Cross" at the top of their lungs, though it's often more a scream than a song. We made fish and glued them to a mural to hang on the church wall. The kids got pretty creative with their decorations. It's a very good mural with a few starfish too.
Susan and I went visiting just before Bible school started. I went to visit a woman I have known from my years here. She was the mother of the baby who died earlier this year and who I had visited at the native hospital in Anchorage. What a lovely hostess and what a beautiful story of faith despite difficult times. I was blessed by her sharing her story of her baby's life and death and how her faith held her fast. I was moved by the experience and her honesty.
Speaking of being moved, I got a surprise when one of the older teens called today and offered to lead Eskimo drumming and dancing tonight. I had seen him earlier in the week and made the request but he seemed evasive. So he came, along with a bunch of others, some to drum, some to dance, many to to watch.
The drums are just circles of skin stretched across big wooden hoops. The sticks look so frail but the sound is powerful, intense. I love the sound of the singing. It's repetitive, booming, haunting.
I love watching the leader, Travis, sing and play the drum. I'm not sure how old he is now, but when I first came in 2004 he was a middle school-aged kid who followed us around like an eager puppy. Now he's a man, the leader of the drummers, and one of the VPOs (village police officers). I'm so proud of him and it moves me to see him as he is now.
I could mention we also had our VBS program and community meal. A good time, always, but a smaller attendance this evening. Pastor Brian's wife Ginger said there was another meeting in town at the same time. Also, we'd forgotten to put up posters. Still, we fed at least 75 (that's adults and kids) so word does travel fast in the village.
Enough for tonight. The house is finally silent and I'm ready to turn in.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A dark and stormy night
It's windy and cold tonight in Brevig, but of course not actually dark. There'll be no darkness here for weeks but the twilight is nice, too.
Today was day three of Vacation Bible School and we seem to be getting the hang of it. More kids today, since some have come back from the reindeer corral up river. I asked a few little ones if they'd helped and several said they had wrestled reindeer...hmmm. One told me they took the horns off some and put ID tags in others. It's an interesting world where you wrestle reindeer one day and go home the next to cable TV and internet. How do they toggle between two worlds?
Today's Bible story was the "lost and found" parables. Well, just the lost sheep and coin from Luke's gospel. The lost son is its own story. We acted out the skit to endless giggles from the audience. They liked watching the "shepherd" chasing the ever-evasive Lawrence (aka lost sheep). It's good to hear them laugh and hopefully get something out of the Bible story. Susan was played Jesus in the skit today and she said how good it was to get to tell the children many times that Jesus loves us and seeks out the lost. It is good. We (Christians) should say these things more often, I think, rather than trying to carefully outline the way others mess up.
Seemed like death became a topic of discussion again today but I don't mind. Helen is doing a paper for an academic program on the 1918 flu epidemic that struck Brevig (then Teller Mission). I had heard only bits of info on this in recent trips so I've appreciated learning more history.
In 1918 a flu epidemic swept through the Seward Peninsula, killing 72 of the 80 residents of Brevig. In 1951, a researcher from Europe came and dug up the mass grave to see if he could learn about the flu virus from the remains. Turns out permafrost preserves bodies and information was extracted from the lungs of the victims. Researchers returned in 1997 to dig again and isolate the virus from the victims. The name of the virus: H1N1. It's been said that perhaps the knowledge gained from the digs here can inform the researchers of the recent H1N1 outbreak. Pastor Brian was here during the 1997 dig and said, "I helped save the world!" One never can tell.
A few of us went to the school library to see some photos of the digs and learn more about the epidemic. Then we went to the cemetary to see the site of the mass grave.
There were other graves too. There were graves of two elders I had met, who died a month apart in early 2007. There was a grave of man who committed suicide this past April. His kids are attending Bible school. Then there was a grave of a 4-month-old, whose mother I had visited at Alaska Native Medical Center in Anchorage last fall. I didn't know the baby had died.
It's all here, life and death. Tonight in devotions, Susan asked us to consider our losses. Then she asked us to consider what we had found. Life and death, lost and found. It is our story, these narratives make up our lives.
Now it's almost midnight and the house is quiet. The clouds drift quickly to the east. The seas are still choppy. I'm hoping for stillness that will allow us safe passage to Teller and back to Nome on Friday. It is, as always, unpredictable to live in the village.
Today was day three of Vacation Bible School and we seem to be getting the hang of it. More kids today, since some have come back from the reindeer corral up river. I asked a few little ones if they'd helped and several said they had wrestled reindeer...hmmm. One told me they took the horns off some and put ID tags in others. It's an interesting world where you wrestle reindeer one day and go home the next to cable TV and internet. How do they toggle between two worlds?
Today's Bible story was the "lost and found" parables. Well, just the lost sheep and coin from Luke's gospel. The lost son is its own story. We acted out the skit to endless giggles from the audience. They liked watching the "shepherd" chasing the ever-evasive Lawrence (aka lost sheep). It's good to hear them laugh and hopefully get something out of the Bible story. Susan was played Jesus in the skit today and she said how good it was to get to tell the children many times that Jesus loves us and seeks out the lost. It is good. We (Christians) should say these things more often, I think, rather than trying to carefully outline the way others mess up.
Seemed like death became a topic of discussion again today but I don't mind. Helen is doing a paper for an academic program on the 1918 flu epidemic that struck Brevig (then Teller Mission). I had heard only bits of info on this in recent trips so I've appreciated learning more history.
In 1918 a flu epidemic swept through the Seward Peninsula, killing 72 of the 80 residents of Brevig. In 1951, a researcher from Europe came and dug up the mass grave to see if he could learn about the flu virus from the remains. Turns out permafrost preserves bodies and information was extracted from the lungs of the victims. Researchers returned in 1997 to dig again and isolate the virus from the victims. The name of the virus: H1N1. It's been said that perhaps the knowledge gained from the digs here can inform the researchers of the recent H1N1 outbreak. Pastor Brian was here during the 1997 dig and said, "I helped save the world!" One never can tell.
A few of us went to the school library to see some photos of the digs and learn more about the epidemic. Then we went to the cemetary to see the site of the mass grave.
There were other graves too. There were graves of two elders I had met, who died a month apart in early 2007. There was a grave of man who committed suicide this past April. His kids are attending Bible school. Then there was a grave of a 4-month-old, whose mother I had visited at Alaska Native Medical Center in Anchorage last fall. I didn't know the baby had died.
It's all here, life and death. Tonight in devotions, Susan asked us to consider our losses. Then she asked us to consider what we had found. Life and death, lost and found. It is our story, these narratives make up our lives.
Now it's almost midnight and the house is quiet. The clouds drift quickly to the east. The seas are still choppy. I'm hoping for stillness that will allow us safe passage to Teller and back to Nome on Friday. It is, as always, unpredictable to live in the village.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
On the beaches of the Bering Sea
I'm writing from Brevig Mission, a small Inupiat Eskimo village north of Nome. I come here, with members of my congregation, for a week each summer. We lead Vacation Bible School and generally hang out in the village. This is my fifth year doing the trip.
It's about 11:45 at night right now. The dogs are yelping outside and the sky to the south is all light pinks and blues. I hear an ATV cruising past and the blinds rattle when the wind blows through. I think everyone in this house is in bed or on the way. And the residents of Brevig are still moving about. Some will still be awake when I get up for my morning run. And there it is, a soft peal of laughter comes from outside.
Every year is different, and though I recognize the kids, they're getting older and taller. Some get more graceful, some a little more awkward, some get jobs and move away. I feel a little like I come home when I return to Brevig.
Bible school was quiet yesterday, day one. Some kids were gone fishing and others were helping with a reindeer corral up river. Today there were more kids and more chaos. We acted out the story of the Israelites and the Egyptians at the Red Sea. Then we helped the kids make instruments (shakers and tamborines and such) and did the skit again. The kids loved it both times; they were on the edge of their seats and then followed me (as Miriam) around the sanctuary with their instruments, praising God or maybe just yelling in a loud voice.
Yesterday I went visiting. I took a few oranges and bananas and one of our team members and visited an elder of the village. She welcomed us warmly and we chatted about this and that. As we chatted, her three greatgrandkids ran about, jumping and showing off. They were all under 4 years old. She's one of the primary caretakers. I wonder how old she is. People are younger than you think here. The lifestyle is wearing, it seems. What a fantastic woman.
The smell of salmon just hit me, full on. Pastor Brian, my collegue and friend here, just came into the kitchen to take a bunch of canned salmon out of the pressure cooker. He said he does about 60 jars a summer. Red salmon, with beautiful flesh. We ate one tonight, hours old. It is one of the best things about being here in summer. The day before yesterday, I saw Brian and an elder named Janie cutting fish and hanging it near the beach. She used only an ulu, sliding the tool through the belly with a steady hand and hanging the fillets over driftwood racks. It was so sunny that day and the fish swung gently in a light breeze.
So things are well here in Brevig. It's so peaceful just now that I'm reluctant to change the mood of this entry, but my heart is heavy for the folks back in Anchorage. A member of our congregation died this morning. I will miss Allan Tesche. He died a few days after major heart surgery. I'm aching for his wife and kids. I don't have many more words right now. Just that Allan was incredibly bright and cared about people. He was serving as church council president (no problem after serving on Anchorage assembly for years). He pushed our council to move forward with measurable goals that match our vision. He was a team player, a cheerleader and knew how to stir folks up to move an issue.
He loved his family and his work. I'll miss him.
I just looked out the window again at that pretty twilight sky. Right before it is a field of white crosses. Every time you look out the window of the parsonage here, there's that little cemetary, a constant reminder of our fragile lives and the presence of pain and grief. And just beyond, there's that beautiful, God-given sky, and mountains as far as I can see.
It's about 11:45 at night right now. The dogs are yelping outside and the sky to the south is all light pinks and blues. I hear an ATV cruising past and the blinds rattle when the wind blows through. I think everyone in this house is in bed or on the way. And the residents of Brevig are still moving about. Some will still be awake when I get up for my morning run. And there it is, a soft peal of laughter comes from outside.
Every year is different, and though I recognize the kids, they're getting older and taller. Some get more graceful, some a little more awkward, some get jobs and move away. I feel a little like I come home when I return to Brevig.
Bible school was quiet yesterday, day one. Some kids were gone fishing and others were helping with a reindeer corral up river. Today there were more kids and more chaos. We acted out the story of the Israelites and the Egyptians at the Red Sea. Then we helped the kids make instruments (shakers and tamborines and such) and did the skit again. The kids loved it both times; they were on the edge of their seats and then followed me (as Miriam) around the sanctuary with their instruments, praising God or maybe just yelling in a loud voice.
Yesterday I went visiting. I took a few oranges and bananas and one of our team members and visited an elder of the village. She welcomed us warmly and we chatted about this and that. As we chatted, her three greatgrandkids ran about, jumping and showing off. They were all under 4 years old. She's one of the primary caretakers. I wonder how old she is. People are younger than you think here. The lifestyle is wearing, it seems. What a fantastic woman.
The smell of salmon just hit me, full on. Pastor Brian, my collegue and friend here, just came into the kitchen to take a bunch of canned salmon out of the pressure cooker. He said he does about 60 jars a summer. Red salmon, with beautiful flesh. We ate one tonight, hours old. It is one of the best things about being here in summer. The day before yesterday, I saw Brian and an elder named Janie cutting fish and hanging it near the beach. She used only an ulu, sliding the tool through the belly with a steady hand and hanging the fillets over driftwood racks. It was so sunny that day and the fish swung gently in a light breeze.
So things are well here in Brevig. It's so peaceful just now that I'm reluctant to change the mood of this entry, but my heart is heavy for the folks back in Anchorage. A member of our congregation died this morning. I will miss Allan Tesche. He died a few days after major heart surgery. I'm aching for his wife and kids. I don't have many more words right now. Just that Allan was incredibly bright and cared about people. He was serving as church council president (no problem after serving on Anchorage assembly for years). He pushed our council to move forward with measurable goals that match our vision. He was a team player, a cheerleader and knew how to stir folks up to move an issue.
He loved his family and his work. I'll miss him.
I just looked out the window again at that pretty twilight sky. Right before it is a field of white crosses. Every time you look out the window of the parsonage here, there's that little cemetary, a constant reminder of our fragile lives and the presence of pain and grief. And just beyond, there's that beautiful, God-given sky, and mountains as far as I can see.
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