Crossing through the arena

I've been a regular runner for about 20 years. I started in Junior High, ran track through high school, ran a year a Wartburg College (D-III) and then ran my way through numerous 5K, 10K, 15K, half marathon and marathon races. I have more race T-shirts than I'll ever use. I've made and met a number of running goals, some still remain.

I thought about this yesterday as Erik drove me down the Seward Highway to the Crow Pass trail head for the start of the Crow Pass Crossing, an annual mountain race described by the Anchorage Daily News as "arduous and unpredictable." True.

The backcountry race covers 24 miles of wilderness, from Girdwood to the Eagle River Nature Center. There are a number of obstacles, from scary to life-threatening. First, runners ascend 2,200 feet in less than one hour (or be disqualified). Then, descending through rock, scree and snowfield to the Eagle River. Cross the glacial Eagle River (thigh-high or higher) then run another 12 miles to the nature center, trails covered in rocks, roots and brushy Cow Parsnip. The trail is not always obvious. People get lost, encounter bears and take serious slips and falls. There are no aid stations, no water and cell phones don't work. Racers must finish in 6 hours to be an official finisher.

The Crow Pass race has intrigued and terrified me ever since I learned of it. I'd day-hiked it with two friends several years ago, when I was a new Alaskan. I was unprepared for the speed and chill of the river. It was high that year, to my waist, and I truly believe I would have just sat down and abandoned hope if not for my hiking partner literally pulling me through it. I have never been so scared. Did I mention I'm kind of afraid of water?

Over the years, I've wavered back and forth about the race. Here's the other catch: you have to qualify to enter. You must be either a Crow Pass race veteran, or run a sub-4:00 marathon or a sub 1:45 half marathon or a sub 2:30 Lost Lake race. I've run several qualifying marathons over the years. Last fall when I completed the Twin Cities Marathon under 4:00 I thought about Crow Pass.

I signed up this year because a friend said she'd run it with me, helping me cross the river and sticking together if we got lost. Then she pulled a hamstring. And then there was one.

My fears were all over the place. I worried I'd encounter bear, get lost, be unable to cross the river, or not make it to the pass by the 1-hour time cut off. I also worried about taking a nasty fall and breaking something, like my head.

I showed up at the mandatory pre-race meeting. I'd heard the race director was merciless and tried to scare people out of doing the race. He wasn't so bad and I even met another girl who didn't have a running partner and we pledged to look for each other the next day.

I barely slept Friday night. As I woke up, stretched, ate and dressed, I felt like Katniss Everdeen in the Hunger Games, getting ready for the arena. As we drove down the highway to Girdwood, the wind picked up. It blew hard. It rained.

The scene at the starting line was subdued. Everyone looked very, very fit. People were jumping and jogging to stay warm. It was raining. I was panicking about last-minute gear decisions. I kissed Erik goodbye and the race started before I could think too much.

The scenery as we ran/hiked up the pass was incredible. Snow dappled the mountains and the valleys glistened with waterfalls. I barely noticed, though, intent as I was on making the top of the pass in one hour. About 2 miles into the uphill slog, the wind started up again and the rain intensified. Suddenly, there was someone yelling out  my number, 87, and writing it down. I had made the first checkpoint with five minutes to spare. A few spectators cheered and one yelled out, "Pastor Lisa!" It was Karen Williams, from Central. I'd never been so glad for a friendly voice in my life. Because then it started to hail. Beads of ice fell from the sky. I was wearing shorts. My legs were turning red. I had the mandatory gear in my backpack (wind pants, long underwear) but I was too cold to stop so I kept moving.



I descended rocky slopes and snow fields. There were amazing views of Raven Glacier, bright blue with the cloudy and dark sky. It was so beautiful. I thought about the wonder of God's creation, the kindness of people I know, the way I've seen the love of Jesus in so many people's faith. I thought about the people of God crossing the Red Sea and how God always makes a way, even when we can't see it. Still, I made sure there were several people just ahead and several people just beyond me. I did not want to cross that river alone. You know, pray like it depends on God, but act like it depends on you!

I was doing fine until I had to cross the descending snowfields. I could see that most other racers slid down on their feet or bottoms. I am no fan of glissading; it scares me to go downhill fast. So I picked my way down, crab-walking and spiderman style. The runners behind me passed me and disappeared. I wasn't sure if anyone was behind me.

So I just kept going, taking care not to fall. About 5 miles into the race, I saw a vision: a man ahead of me stopped briefly to pick his way through a creek. He pointed out the best way to go and then we started talking. His name was Thomas, a veteran of the race. He knew the way! As far as I was concerned, he was a gift from God. I followed him through brush higher than my head, trail littered with obstacles, and we safely crossed the river together.

Our biggest snafu (which may have cost me a timely finish) was that when we arrived at the river to ford it, we couldn't find the race officials who were supposed to be there to ensure we had crossed and who would give us a bracelet. We walked up and down the river banks yelling for them for a good 5-10 minutes, gave up and finally crossed on our own. We found the "bracelet people" a ways down the trail, telling us they'd left the river bank after 3 hours. We'd arrived at the bank in 3 hours and 8 minutes. Apparently, this was one of the policies that didn't make it into the race instructions.

We continued along the rocky trail, through brush, spotting bear scat, using ladders and ropes at times to help us navigate the rough terrain. I was getting tired, but pushed along to make the 6-hour time limit. I was worried but Thomas, my new running partner, was confident we'd just make it. But the rain kept falling, the brushy trail was hard to navigate, and once when the trail wound really close to the Eagle River, I slipped and fell into the river, up to my waist.

About 5 hours and 30 minutes into the race, I had to stop and eat. Thomas kept going. I found out later he finished in 6 hours and 50 seconds. Thankfully, the race director gave him credit and he was an official finisher. I wasn't so lucky. I pushed until the end, crossing the finish line in a triumphant yet disappointing 6 hours and 5 minutes. I woofed down the Snickers bar they handed me.

Today's paper has a great article about the race. The list of finishers doesn't have my name in it. I'm a little sad about it, but it was good to face a fear and come safely through the arena, whole and in one piece. Maybe more whole, in a way, for doing something I didn't know I could think I could, relying on strangers and seeing again the wonder of the world God made.

PS: I didn't think to have some photos taken until I was safely inside at the Eagle River Nature Center. It was still raining and my lips were turning blue.

Brevig Mission Wrap-up

Our team of 8 members and friends of Central Lutheran returned safely from Brevig Mission this past Saturday. I know from talking to other members of the team that they were as moved by the experiences of the week as I was.

It was my turn to preach this past Sunday but when I sat down to write, my mind was flooded with images and emotions of the week. Then I thought about a brief exchange I'd had with Gilbert Oxeroek, the lay pastor in Wales, when we were both in Nome this past week. He had been at a pastor's gathering. When I asked him how it was, he commented that a lot of pastors wanted to talk about what they'd read in books. Gilbert said he'd rather talk about things the Eskimo way. When I asked what that meant he responded, "We begin with our own experience." (See below!)

So that's what I did on Sunday. Instead of writing a manuscript, I preached from my own experience. I told four stories from Brevig Mission. The stories were: the body, the whale, the fire and the banquet. The first three you can read about in previous blog posts. The fourth, the banquet, is the story of our Vacation Bible School program that we held in Brevig, where children sang with delight and shared their memorized Bible verse. The banquet included a meal, too, as we served spaghetti for the whole community. I mean that almost literally; we went through at least 200 plates (before we lost count) in this village of less than 400 souls. We ran out of spaghetti noodles several times (I tried praying over them to no avail-- kidding) but managed to cook more. People were in good spirits even though they were waiting in line. We shared a lot of conversation with our table fellowship.

After the meal and program, there was a wedding. Or at least a renewal of vows. Chris and Bruce, from Central, were celebrating their 10-year wedding anniversary this year. They never had a church wedding, so they asked if Pr Brian and I would do it in Brevig. So we did. Chris asked the oldest man in the room (he wasn't that old!) to walk her down the aisle and the couple stood before Pr Brian and I, who were decked in kuspucks. We took turns praying, I did the vows and Brian preached a good and short sermon. The children watched closely and then hooted with delight when Bruce kissed his bride.

In the sermon, I contrasted this banquet with the gospel lesson for July 15, which was the story of Herod's feast where John the Baptist ends up without a head, literally. Then I contrasted Herod's feast with the very next story in Mark's gospel: the feeding of the 5000. At Herod's feast, only the elite are invited and manipulation and violence rules. At Jesus' feast, all are welcome and even though there's only 5 loaves and 2 fish, everyone gets enough.

When I was in seminary, a professor told me that sometimes the gospel isn't in the assigned reading for the day. That was true for me this past Sunday. Instead, I found the Gospel in the Eskimo way. I found it in my experiences in Brevig Mission. I found it in the stories people there told me about how their faith helped them through tough times. I found it in conversations with members of our group and with Pr. Brian. I found it by sharing in the joys and sorrows crammed into one week in Brevig and Teller. I found it, or, to be exact, the Gospel found me.

Fire and Leaving Brevig

Brevig Mission: departure date, July 13. I just have a few minutes to write a quick reflection before we boat across Port Clarence to Teller, then drive the gravel road to Nome. We fly to Anchorage tomorrow morning. I just drove a few loads of luggage down to the beach and helped Brian load the boat and the first round of people went across to Teller. Of all the things we've seen here this week, now there's one more: fire damage in Teller from a blaze last night.

Yesterday morning we awoke to huge billowing smoke from Teller. I thought it was a garbage fire but a man I met while running yesterday said it was way too big for that. Turns out, some kids were playing around and set off a fire that destroyed three buildings and the city's loader tractor. Teller doesn't have water and sewer, except at the washeteria and school. Apparently, there was some pumping equipment to put out fires, but who knows where that is or how it's been re-appropriated. We heard the fire was tackled by locals with a bucket brigade of sea water.

Then the Nome fire department showed up, but by then the three buildings, at least one historic, was gone. The Catholic and Lutheran churches were saved. No one was injured. That's about all we know.

Yesterday was also the big finale for VBS. We had a bigger class yesterday, then a VBS program and community meal. Usually we serve hot dogs and invite the whole village. This time, we still invited the whole village but we served spaghetti. Well, apparently that was a hit, because we ran through at least 200 plates, ran out of noodles several times and had to scramble. I think we literally fed more than half the town. People were so gracious and I saw many familiar faces. One highlight was that elder Daisy Rock helped me lead the Doxology in Inupiat, because Brian wasn't back from Teller yet.

When he did return, we did our VBS program, the kids singing with gusto. Then, we had a wedding! Brian and I shared officiant duties. Well, it wasn't exactly a wedding but it sure was exciting. Here's the story: Chris and Bruce were married hastily in a courthouse 10 years ago because he was sick. They never had a church wedding. So they decided to do it here. They put on kuspuks and a man from the village walked Chris down the aisle. Brian did the sermon, I did the prayers and the vows. We all sang "Surely Goodness and Mercy," and Bruce gave his bride a big kiss. Brian talked about how marriage is about helping each other, no matter what. The kids were rapt with attention and hooted when Bruce kissed his bride.

After the wedding, we cleaned up and headed over to the traditional office for some Eskimo dancing. The crowd was small but the dancers and drummers are so talented. I've seen it many times but the music still enters my heart and captivates my attention in a very special way.

Better get down to the beach with some more loads of luggage. Brian will be back with the boat soon and we'll be on our way.

Everybody Loves Whales

Day 3 here at Vacation Bible School, Brevig Mission, Alaska (July 11). Somehow, the weather is still holding, and all around is the beauty of the water, mountains and sky. I saw kids swimming in the Bering Sea today; the water didn't even seem cold to my touch. The sun is blazing down through a blue sky at all hours (though mauve, orange and pink ran through the sky at 2 am this morning) and I think I got a little sunburn on my cheeks today.

With the weather so beautiful and the fish so plentiful, we knew our attendance at VBS might be a bit lower. It was: about 20 kids. But the ones that came had a good time. They listened during story time (the woman at the well) and sang with gusto at songs like "Father Abraham" and "This Little Light of Mine." We made bookmarks during craft time and then the kids wrote down what they've liked best about VBS so far and threw their "wishes" down our "well" that we'd made from boxes from the store.

At about 3:45 pm, just before we planned to go outside for games, someone came in and said, "They got a whale!" All the kids rushed to the window, where we could see maybe two small dots on the horizon. People had spotted a Minke whale the last day or so in the bay. They'd been chasing it. And they got it. Since they were so far away, we had the kids quiet down, finish their snack, and go outside for games. After a quick round of "Red Light, Green Light," we sent them home and told them we'd see them on the beach soon.

We watched out the window of the upstairs parsonage until the boats got closer. We watched 4-wheelers, people, kids and bikes stream down to the beach. We went too. The atmosphere was electric. Kids were swimming in the sea. People were watching the boat, telling stories and eating. Depending on who you asked, it had been somewhere between 8-20 years since they'd gotten a whale here. Villages farther north get them, but usually not Brevig Mission.

The boat got closer to shore and so we followed it farther down the beach, where even more people were waiting. Finally, the whale appeared, its dorsal fin black and shark-like, drug behind two boats. Suddenly, men and boys came from everywhere, attached ropes and started pulling. They pulled for awhile, until someone came down the beach with a backhoe and finally, the back of the shiny white and gray whale landed on the beach. As soon as they let go of the ropes, the children flocked to the whale. People touched it, stroked its leathery skin. Cameras and phones flashed everywhere; there was so much talking and energy.

Then, like a symphony, the men and boys started cutting. No one argued or bossed anyone around. Even though the village hadn't taken a whale for almost two decades, they seemed to know just what they were doing. They cut the whale from the tale, cutting chunks about 12-inches wide. Using the ropes, the peeled the blubber off first, then put it aside, glistening white in the sun. Whale blubber is called "muktuk" and is eaten raw with salt or boiled. Then they cut the meat off the bone, red and heavy. People sat on the beach and watched as the men and boys cut and carried the meat. The organ meats came next, the intestines white like so many sausages and the stomach puffed up like a giant balloon. The last thing I saw them cut off was the baleen, pure and white. It wasn't clear to me (or the little kids I asked) if anyone was going to eat the organ meats, though one teenager told me she'd eaten whale brain before.

The entire process, from landing the whale to cutting most of it up, took about two hours. When I left around 7 pm, there was basically just a carcass. Pastor Brian told me the dogs will get their share, though our group wondered if the bones will be harvested later for carving.

I've heard before that bringing in a whale can be a spiritual experience. I had wondered if Pastor Brian was expected to say a prayer of blessing or thanksgiving for the gift of this whale. He was over in Teller for a church meeting when the whale landed. People had stopped by to ask if Brian knew there was a whale. So I called him, thinking in my head about a whale blessing, and told him people were asking for him. He just said, "That's because I like muktuk."

Being part of this experience was very special for our group. It's already been such an adventurous week, what with the body washing up on shore, the beautiful weather and some of our group sighting a musk ox herd with a brown bear in pursuit. A whale just made it so much more interesting. Even though no one said a prayer (aloud) for the whale, I think most of us were saying one in our heads and hearts, not just for the whale but for the experience of being here, and being present, in this place.

Bush Bible School, Day 1

The clock in the kitchen here in Brevig Mission says 1:18 pm, which means we have less than 45 minutes until Day Two of Vacation Bible School. The view from this computer is still brilliant blue skies and still bluer seas. I can see multiple mountain ranges in the distance and people are still catching fish after fish.

Because the weather is so good, we worried we'd have a small attendance at Bible school. But they came. When it was all said and done, we had 49 kids who filled out attendance sheets. 49 kids and then 20 more at teen night, all in a village of maybe 350 people.

Bible school was the usual mix of stories, crafts, games and songs. The kids grow up fast and I struggle to remember their names because they look so mature since I last saw them. But all was well. Our theme for VBS this year is "God loves all people," and we're using several stories that show God's love for a diversity of folks. Yesterday, we did the Zacchaeus story and the kids hooted to see Karen Voris play Zaccheaus, jumping to see over a crowd a climbing a "tree" to see Jesus. After the skit, the kids stayed engaged for longer that I'd thought for singing time. We led them in a couple of songs and then Pr. Brian got on the guitar and they sang along. One of the highlights of the day for one of our volunteers was watching how some smaller boys were misbehaving and then seeing the teenage boys walk over and quietly and effectively admonishing the young ones.

Before we dismissed the kids, Chris Boehner passed out toothbrushes to every child, a gift from someone she knows who works in a dental office. We saw that toothbrushes are $4 apiece in the store here and kids' mouths are full of silver fillings.

After Bible school, Karen, Carol Petersen and I went over to visit Darla. She's a mom I know here and she had come by earlier and invited us to visit. So we went and were treated to a fine supper of BBQ fresh salmon, rice and corn fritters. I always feel humbled to be welcomed into homes here in Brevig.

At 7 pm, I went downstairs to welcome the teens to teen night. We'd forgotten to hang up signs announcing the event, though we'd told several kids about. I sat down there, alone, for about 30 minutes and no one came. Well, actually, two high school boys stopped by, but when they saw there were no others, they left, saying they were going to go talk to their friend Kevin. I was feeling really bummed. I thought they wouldn't come back. I was feeling bad that we hadn't hung up signs. I was mad at myself for not pushing hard enough to get teenagers to come on the trip.

And then, suddenly, there they were. Those first two boys came back, with a bunch of other guys. Then the girls slowly trickled in. We did some group games, then played cards and made friendship bracelets. I smiled to see the boys playing "I doubt it" with Carol and Jerene. They stayed until 9 and promised to come back tomorrow.

I plan for this trip every year and then I always feel like I lose some control as soon as I step off the plane in Nome. I always wonder how it will work out and if people will come and if they'll have fun. And somehow, it always works out.

Into the Bush

For the 8th time in 9 summers, I'm spending a week in Brevig Mission, a small Inupiat Eskimo village about 70 miles outside of Nome, Alaska. I'm here with a bunch of Lutherans and friends to lead Vacation Bible School in this village of about 350 people. It's one of my favorite weeks of the year.

I've blogged about this week before, but every year is different. The team is comprised of different people every year. Different kids come to Bible school. In fact, some of the kids who attended as middle school kids the first year are bringing their own kids now.  The weather is different every year. I'm different every year, too. I came first as an intern, now I come as a pastor almost seven years into my call....and also a wife.

As I write this from Pastor Brian's mac computer, I'm looking out at the impossibly blue waters of Port Clarence of the Bering Sea. The weather has been incredible since we arrived yesterday. The highs must be in the 60s and though it's almost midnight, the sky is brilliant blue and the sun is still shining. The fish are really running and the wooden racks up and down the beach are full of salmon, cut with horizontal marks and hung for weeks to dry. As we wandered about town today, inviting people to Bible school tomorrow, we heard that many people are at their fish camps away from the village, processing fish for colder times to come.

There is such incredible beauty here in the green, brown, red and gray hills and the sapphire sea that keeps changing shades. The people here are beautiful, too, welcoming us, visiting and church and offering us coffee when we visit in homes. There's plenty of pain, too. A young man took his life in November. A beloved elder died in June. Just today, we heard that a fisherman discovered a body washed up far down the beach. It belonged to a young man in Teller who died this winter. The body was decomposed. The hardest part: there were two young men who were lost from Teller in the icy sea this winter and the families wait to find out which body was just found.

We start Bible school tomorrow, at 2 pm, because folks who are up late in the sun tend to sleep in. We've asked some folks we know in Brevig if they'd help us lead Bible school. We wonder how many kids won't be able to come because they're putting up fish. We'll miss them, but we understand.

Bible school lasts for four days. We pick four Bible stories and lead crafts, story time, snacks and games. I always hope they hear something about a God that loves them no matter what. We're always talking cross-culturally, of course. Our theme this year is about God loving all people. For the first day, we're doing the Zacchaeus story. It's a great story about Jesus reaching out to someone that nobody liked. There is the slight problem that Zacchaeus climbed a tree to see Jesus and there's no trees for miles around here, but I guess we'll make do.

More tomorrow....