Journey

Epilogue

2011-08-07T20:31:00.000-07:00

It has been exactly one year since we left Red Bird Mission and returned to our Hoosier home. The anniversary fills my mind with memories of the people and places that inhabited that year. In some ways our mountain experiences were parenthetical in our lives, brief and intransigent. In other ways they were so integral to our lives that we cannot imagine our be-ing without them. My journal is necessarily incomplete; after all, one cannot write of every experience nor share every picture, person, or place that touched us. It struck me that I had forgotten some painful moments of the journey and thus did not include them. Moments like being robbed soon after our arrival, of aching loneliness for family and friends, for the deep sense of isolation caused by closely hemmed mountains and forests, for the pain of accusations from the community while Red Bird struggled for its footing, for the need to sometimes leave the mountains in order to breathe freely again. But the human soul is so flexible and the journey so wonderful that these moments gave way to remarkable peace and to deep gratitude for the privilege that we knew was ours. We may have left little mark on the mountains, but they left a big mark on us.

Red Bird has changed in the last year. Drs. Lynn and Sharon Fogleman saw their last patients at the Clinic on Friday, July 29. They will be leaving for Africa in early 2012 to bring health services to the community of Yei in South Sudan. Contracting the Clinic services provided a structure that allows them to leave as another physician steps in to continue care in a seamless manner; I feel good that this can happen so smoothly. Dr. Lamar Keiser, long-time dentist, retired at the end of June. He continues to come to Red Bird two days a week from his home in Danville to provide patient care. The Mission continues to recruit a dentist to fill his shoes chairside. The dental lab sits rather quiet and remains an opportunity as yet unfulfilled. The School continues in its K-12 format with a greatly reduced budget; music remains an integral part of student life there. All other services remain in place as Red Bird continues to regain its financial footing and looks for ways to continue meeting human needs. The mountains remain unmoved, mists still roll in and dissolve again along their edges, the elk roam freely, people still live and love in the shadows of the Daniel Boone. The Red Bird River still springs from its limestone bed and moves inexorably to the Kentucky River and the great waters beyond. The circle of life seems little changed, but for one brief moment we stepped into another stream and made a tiny ripple.

For more information about the work at Red Bird Mission visit their website at www.rbmission.org. Better yet, go for a visit. Best of all, stay for a while and roll up your sleeves. You might notice a tiny ripple.

Many Thanks

2011-08-01T19:05:00.000-07:00

A Red Bird workteam loaded us up in no time.

Only a child could have so much fun in the middle of a move. Grandson Noah played happily for hours in the tunnels and forts he created from our emptied boxes.

The mechanics of moving are always daunting. Our move to Kentucky meant downsizing considerably, so we sorted and then gave away, sold, or packed every one of our belongings. I've written elsewhere about the impact of seeing one's life laid out for sale on the front lawn; it's just not pretty either inside or out. The move back to Indiana reversed the process, but it was still much the same. We sorted and packed and enlisted the energies once again of a work team for loading and then relied again on friends to unload at our Indiana house. What kind friends we have! They handled this stuff twice in one year and never uttered a grumbling word. We settled back into our neighborhood as if we'd never left, rejoined our congregation without missing a beat, and gathered family around us in celebrations of love and joyfulness made even sweeter by our absence.

In our church we have a somewhat liturgical response that begins with our minister saying "God is good" to which the congregation replies "All the time." The minister then replies "all the time" to which the congregations responds "God is good."

And so the litany continues... God is good.

Leaving Red Bird

2011-08-01T18:59:00.000-07:00

It became just as obvious that time was approaching for us to leave Kentucky, as it had been obvious that we should go. Neither decision is easily explainable. I was recruited for a particular work and what we believed would take about three years to accomplish was finished in one. Although I was offered jobs in the region, we knew that our time in Kentucky was finished.

Knowing that the Clinic would be in good hands, that Red Bird was restructuring and rebounding, that Alan had completed many improvement projects on the campus, and that our home remained unsold in Indiana, made the decision to return to Indiana inevitable. Just as completely as our gaze had turned to the mountains and to a task there, our gaze turned toward “home” and a return to our Indiana family. We made many friends at Red Bird, we enjoyed the camaraderie and acceptance of many local people, we enjoyed meaningful work, we experienced life among a unique culture, we grew to love the magnificent mountains and the beautiful natural surroundings. We even grew accustomed to the isolation of the location, the heat of the airless hollers, and the idiosyncracies of mountain people and life in the Cumberland.

Going to Red Bird was a step of faith…and yet it hardly seemed so. We were compelled by a Spirit beyond our understanding, sustained by that Spirit, and returned home again with Spirit’s blessing.

Red Bird Realities

2011-08-01T18:52:00.000-07:00

We lived and worked at Red Bird Mission during what must surely be the most difficult year of its existence. The American economic implosion of 2008-2009 had a devastating effect on donations to the Mission, as well as to the cost of providing services. The truth is that Red Bird had been operating in an inflated position for some time, overextending its ability to provide K-12 education in the same way and draining its reserves in an effort to do so. The Board made one wrenching decision after another: close the elementary school, close the entire school, cut back on staff and expenses to barebones levels. The organization teetered on bankruptcy and pressure on leadership was enormous.

To its credit Red Bird School was able to quickly reorganize, remaining a K-12 facility with some combined classes and reduced amenities (the closure of little-used dorms and reduction in bus routes, for example). Every budget was reevaluated and adjusted; cuts became painful but services remained stable. For my part, it was clear that healthcare services could not be sustained as provided and drastic measures were needed to keep the Clinic in the mountains. Upcoming federal regulations, our reliance on uncertain grants and donations, the difficulty of recruiting medical professionals to Red Bird, and our inability to remain independent given our lack of efficiency of scale meant that Red Bird would need to partner or be contracted to an able provider.

Red Bird Clinic provided me with a wonderful challenge: to provide current services as profitably and lovingly as possible and to find a solution to its long-term viability. After several studies, conversations with possible partners, and listening to local people, we were able to take a proposal to Red Bird’s board for divestiture of its Clinic operations to the Adventist Health System. Medical Director Sharon Fogleman was in full agreement and was happy to let me while away my days working on the details of the plan. In July of 2010 the Red Bird Mission/Clinic Board voted unanimously to give up control of the health ministry it had overseen for 88 years. It had not been easy, but it was so worth it…the Clinic remained in place at Red Bird and the people of the Red Bird Valley continue to receive care there.

I had worked myself right out of a job.

Samaritan's Purse

2011-08-01T17:53:00.000-07:00

The beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina

Unloading medical supplies at Samaritan's Purse

Boxes waiting for shipment in time for Christmas

I’d been planning for weeks to do something about the pile of donations in the Clinic basement that we couldn’t use. Although we maintained an updated list of needs on our website, well-meaning folks still arrived at Red Bird with donations of medical supplies and equipment that we could not use. Much of the equipment was outdated, we had enough already (crutches), or patients could get a new one free of charge from Medicare (walkers, for example). There is a high cost to handling unneeded donations: the cost of storage, sorting, and disposal could be significant. For us, the solution meant volunteers made too many trips to a dumpster. The remaining supplies and equipment were verified as usable by Samaritan’s Purse, an international humanitarian organization with a medical supply arm headquartered in Boone, North Carolina (it’s director is Franklin Graham, son of Billy Graham).

And so one weekend we loaded up a large van (and I mean loaded to the gills), and Alan and I set off for North Carolina to deliver the goods. The Blue Ridge Mountains were spectacular in their late spring greenery. And, yes, the humidity creates a bluish haze over the rolling hills. Samaritan’s Purse is tucked away in these ridges, a surprisingly large organization whose global reach touches children through its Operation Christmas Child, whose clean water and homebuilding services were working overtime after Haiti’s 2010 earthquake, whose food was being shipped to hungry around the world, and whose healthcare supplies fill clinics and hospital worldwide. They welcomed our donations and gave us a personal tour of their operation. It was good to be able to share the overabundance that Red Bird Clinic had received, passing forward the gifts of others.

Berea

2011-08-01T17:09:00.000-07:00

Berea was one of my favorite towns in Kentucky. Known for its liberal arts college, the town has been a hotbed of progressive attitudes and arts from its inception. Berea College has long been known for its work-study programs that allow Appalachian students to attend free of charge. It was the first de-segregated college in the South and has always championed diversity and racial reconciliation. Its efforts in peace-building, environmental responsibility, the arts, service to the marginalized, and high academic standards are widely known. Berea's long history with indigenous arts and crafts made it the natural location for the Kentucky Artisan Center. Boone Tavern is a popular hotel and restaurant (famous, too, for its corn-based Spoon Bread) and Warren May's famous dulcimer and handcrafted furniture shop is right around the corner. The town is alive with the arts, ranking in the top 25 U.S. arts destinations; music fills its town square weekly, community theater abounds, and a thriving community of artists make their homes there. Painted hands sprinkle the landscape (like the painted ponies of the desert southwest), welcoming visitors and symbolizing the 'work together' attitude of the community.

Red Bird Mission

2011-08-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

This sign welcomes people to the Red Bird Mission campus.

Red Bird Mission fills a narrow hollow deep in the mountains of the Cumberland Plateau; it is surrounded by the Daniel Boone National Forest and follows the lines cut by the Red Bird River and Highway 66 in southeast Kentucky. The school is in the foreground with other Mission buildings around the corner and up the road.

Red Bird Mission

Although this blog has served me well in recording thoughts and experiences, it hasn’t yet shown readers the context of Red Bird Mission. Ok, so there’s been a picture of the Clinic and my office, of Alan working in a wood shop and with a team. Perhaps it sounded like we were single-handedly saving a community in Southeast Kentucky from poverty, disease and want. Nothing was further from the truth. We were, in fact, part of a community with a 90-year history of service in the Red Bird Valley.

Begun in 1921 with the arrival of two teachers and a preacher, Red Bird Mission was the answer to a prayer for a school for the children of mountain families too remote to benefit from county-seat schools. The geography in which these families lived was isolated and mountainous, the far-reaching back yards of three counties that came together near the tiny community of Beverly. A year later a nurse joined the group and soon a school, church, and hospital were thriving—today known as the Red Bird School, Red Bird Clinic, and Beverly United Methodist Church. With long ties to the United Methodist Church through its Evangelical United Brethern (EUB) roots (the EUB and Methodist Episcopal churches merged in 1968 to form the United Methodist Church), Red Bird Mission has been reliant on the goodwill of this denomination for all of its existence.

Today Red Bird Mission has expanded into five major components of service: education, health care, economic opportunity, community housing, and a broad range of services called community outreach. (Although Red Bird Clinic is its own legal entity, it shares the administrative services of the Mission and is governed by the same board of directors; here I include the Clinic when I speak of Red Bird Mission.) Although the Mission maintains historic ties with United Methodists and has many convoluted relationships with varied groups within the denomination, Red Bird Mission and Red Bird Clinic are governed solely by an independent board of directors organized under Kentucky law. The Beverly Church (mentioned above) and other United Methodist congregations in the region fall under a separate UM church structure called a Conference and are not governed by Red Bird Mission’s board. For all practical purposes, the churches and social service structures at Red Bird are completely separate, with Red Bird Mission and Red Bird Clinic governed by their board of directors and the churches falling under the United Methodist Red Bird Missionary Conference. With “Red Bird” in the names of all these entities and with their related histories, church ties, and geographical proximity (offices governing both sit side-by-side), it is very confusing for people from outside the area to recognize the distinctions.

The human side of the story is this: Red Bird Mission touches the lives of about 14,000 mountain people a year. The Mission has learned how to provide needed services in one of the most difficult environments and cultures in the United States today. Poverty and isolation still permeate mountain life; human need still outstrips the capacity of governments, industry, human services, and churches to provide. Red Bird Mission combines the best elements of all of these and somehow makes it work—not that the work is easy or complete—but it works.

The following pictures and text from the five ministry areas presents a most incomplete and unfinished story.

2011-08-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

Dr. Lynn Fogleman works out a patient issue with business office manager, Winna Wagers.

It's never done till the paperwork's done!

Dr. Sharon Fogleman provided patient care for many.

Red Bird Clinic was a federally-designated Rural Health Center, providing a full range of primary care services on an outpatient basis. The Clinic included two board certified Family Practice physicians, a nurse practitioner or physician assistant, a lab/x-ray technician, two nurses, a nursing assistant, and office staff. Services also included a Public Health nurse and an independent on-site pharmacy.The Clinic saw about 500 patients each month on a budget of about $1.3 million, with patient revenues providing most of the operating budget. In addition, the Public Health nurse made over 600 home visits annually, as well as covered the needs of the school and some community health education.

2011-08-01T16:08:00.000-07:00

Dr. Keiser and assistant, Ruth Ann, care for a patient.

Harry Brooks and students in the lab tech training program.

Dental Clinic

The Red Bird Dental Clinic sees about 150-200 patients a month. Serving an area of Appalachia with the national record for toothlessness meant that dental and dental hygiene needs were great. In 2008 a volunteer from Indiana (Harry Brooks) donated a modern dental appliance lab that provided low-cost dentures. In addition, he began training lab techs in the art in 2010. Without the services of a hygienist, dental hygiene students provided services annually under the direction of their instructors.

2011-08-01T14:59:00.000-07:00

Meals on Wheels brought these women together.

The Christmas Room collects goods all year long.

Youth Summer Program--learning & fun on summr days.

Community Outreach

Community Outreach provides the most comprehensive range of human services, serving the elderly, women, children, the homeless, and community indigent. Its senior services include the DeWall Senior Center, Meals on Wheels and Home Care. Women and children benefit from MIHOW (Mothers & Infants Health Outreach Workers) and parenting classes, children attend its Early Childhood Development classes or spend summers in its Summer Youth program. Community Outreach also provides transitional housing & counseling for homeless families, transportation, low-income housing for disabled or senior residents, emergency food and clothing, adult education and GED preparation, a large Christmas program, and agriculture and gardening initiatives through Grow Appalachia.

2011-08-01T14:10:00.000-07:00

On their day off dental hygiene volunteers worked on a campus building.

Lenny (NY) volunteers every year on community housing.

Community Housing

Community Housing provides a way for teams (and individuals) to work on housing repair projects for low-income residents in the Red Bird service area. Each year between 2,500 and 3,000 volunteers come to Red Bird for either the housing projects or to work on building maintenance around the campus. Staff oversee an extensive process of application and approval before projects are chosen, as well as management of the work and oversight of teams. Many youth teams come during the summer months, while spring and fall see adult groups generally.

2011-08-01T13:57:00.000-07:00

Education

Red Bird School provides K-12 education with extracurricular opportunities in music, sports, and foreign language. The school is known for its quality music program, which features choral and instrumental groups (a reflection of both a gifted instructor and a local culture of music).

2011-08-01T13:35:00.000-07:00

At a craft fair in a Methodist church--this was only one of many tables of handmade crafts by Kentucky artisans (these from a Richmond potter). Baskets, rugs, weaving, cornhusk dolls, woodworking, jewelry, and dulcimers were also sold.

The Craft Store at Red Bird Mission featured many fine pieces of art.

The Community Store sorted, cleaned, and sold mountains of donations.

Economic Opportunities

This area of Red Bird Mission was its smallest and encompassed a Community Store (which sold donated clothing and some household goods, as well as provided basics for families whose homes burned), a Craft Store (which featured handmade crafts from Kentucky), and took craft shows to churches as a way of promoting Red Bird Mission and supporting artists from the region.

Front Porches

2011-06-28T17:43:00.000-07:00

A front porch is a great invention. We had one, and I loved stepping out early in the morning for a cup of coffee and a chance to watch the sun play across the mountains, or in the evening to watch the shadows of an early dusk settle into the holler. Front porches became added rooms on some homes, complete with upholstered furniture, washing machines, junk storage, or clothes-drying lines. Porches always provided a good vantage point to watch people drive by or to escape the heat of an un-airconditioned kitchen or just a place to while away some time. They were best lined up with a row of mismatched chairs and rockers, friendly folks and kids and dogs in attendance, and a pitcher of iced tea at the ready.

Mountain Funerals

2011-06-28T17:28:00.000-07:00

Family cemeteries are common in the mountains; this one was very near our home.

It was a bright January morning when we were taking some pictures around the Clinic for use in newsletters and promotional materials. I remember how our lab-tech, Pam, was laughing and we were all cutting up as cameras clicked. Laughing until the phone call came, anyway. Then Pam rushed off to the hospital where mining officials told her that her young husband, Travis, would be taken after being injured at a local coal mine. The air turned tense and prayerful. Unbelievably we learned a couple hours later that he was dead. Nobody had the heart to work, especially since so many clinic staff had close family members who worked in underground mines. And so my first experience with mountain funerals was with a young staff member, and it was grievous. My second experience came later with the death of another staff member’s brother. He too died too young and sadness gripped again.

Mountain funerals proved to be different from customs I had experienced before. One difference greets travelers immediately if they wander mountain roads: the small family cemeteries dotting many rocky slopes, or the obvious gravesites in yards or tucked up on mountain ridges behind homes. I wondered where an outsider might be buried when they died, especially if they didn’t own property or belong to an extended family with burial rights in their cemetery. I learned that mountain families will graciously extend an invitation for burial to people they esteem fitting for a family plot; otherwise the cemetery at the county seat will have to do...price tag and all. One of our staff nurse’s assured me that either Alan or I could be buried in her family’s cemetery when we died.

Funerals are huge community events in the mountains, bringing together families and friends in a way no other ritual can do. With tangled networks of extended families, a funeral becomes a big event. Women begin cooking almost immediately for the crowds that will gather and stay with the bereaved family, generally at their family church, for at least the days of the wake and funeral. Singing and preaching, grieving and visiting take place in the afternoon and long into the night before the day of a funeral. This wakefulness is appropriately called a “wake” and hearkens back to the time when most families kept watch over a body at home all night, sometimes including religious ceremonies to mark the time. In the mountains the wake generally takes place at church (although sometimes in a home), with mourners coming and going to pay their respects, view the corpse, and participate as long as they wish in the singing or preaching going on.

The funerals I attended were typical of mountain funerals, I was told, with their hell-fire-and-brimstone preaching and revival atmosphere. This seems to be a favorite time to preach ‘getting saved’ to the many non-churchgoers who attend. People seemed to expect the lengthy preaching, and the heightened emotions of grief added to the drama of revival. Such deep emotion coupled with the intensely personal nature of country hymns, and a funeral became a deep cauldron of raw grief. The one element missing, it seemed, was that almost no mention was made of the person lying dead in the room. I had the feeling that if the body had been absent, the meeting could have been held anyway…just called a tent-meeting or revival.

Mountain funerals were not gussied up affairs. They did not take place in a funeral home, but in the familiarity of a family church. The ones I attended had to no Power Point or video presentation of the person’s life. I did not see morticians dressed in suits hovering in the back, only mourners in the clean clothing of the everyday. I found it easy to strike up conversations with strangers in the church yard since funerals seemed to lessen people’s reserve. I remember the young man who talked on and on about the brotherhood of coal miners and how deeply any of their deaths affected him, and the young woman who insisted that she would never let her husband go down in the mine again.

As each body was taken to his burial I knew that his grave site would be well tended and that every summer family would gather there to remember. Cemetery reunions are a mainstay of mountain life, a tradition birthed in the days when circuit-riding preachers couldn’t get to the mountains until roads became passable in spring. His arrival meant funerals (or memorials) were celebrated en masse at that time and the family gatherings at cemeteries continue today, although they tend to be held throughout the summer months. Like the funerals preceding the burials, cemetery reunions have lots of preaching, visiting, and remembering. It’s just a mountain thing.

Not all are poor

2011-06-28T17:22:00.001-07:00

Not everyone who lives in the mountains around Red Bird is poor. There are many very nice homes in the region, surprising first-time visitors by their unexpected appearance. Because county zoning and covenant restrictions are unknown in the hills (or not enforced), and because families build close together in hollers, it is quite common to find mobile and custom-built homes sitting side-by-side. One must remember that wages in the coal mines are good; combined with the wages of a teacher, nurse, or other professional spouse, and families own solid middle-class wealth. One local told me that it is common to see family wages approaching $100,000.

I got to know families that had spent their working years in other places but moved back to the mountains during retirement. Others worked for the state or federal government and were happy to commute from their mountain homes. Some families were able to enjoy higher standards of living by inheriting land or by renting property very cheaply from coal mine owners. I met several families who also owned cabins outside of the area, perhaps on a lake in the region or across the Tennessee line. With these generous wages, local families were able to enjoy a very good standard of living that included affordable housing, beautiful views, and recreation options enviable to others.

Education

2011-06-07T14:43:00.000-07:00

Goose Rock Elementary is where many of the children around Red Bird Mission attend (many also choose to attend Red Bird Mission School, which is funded by United Methodists around the U.S.). Goose Rock's fine facilities and many fine teachers make it an opportunity for good education.

One thing that surprised me during our year in Kentucky was the abundance of educational opportunities for youth from the mountains. The Washington pork machine under Hal Rogers (also commonly known as The King of Pork to the media) has funneled millions of dollars into the region, funding road construction, an airport, building schools, etc… One is simply struck by the newness and niceness of schools throughout the region. Drive across Appalachia—through southeast Kentucky and into Virginia, for example—and you can see the difference in schools and other infrastructure that show how southeast Kentucky has benefited greatly from the largesse of Washington.

Youth from the mountains have so much going for them educationally. They have beautiful buildings in which to learn. They have “Save the Children” in these buildings providing after-school tutoring free of charge. In at least our area, a local (coal-based) foundation pays for dental care & some healthcare needs, either visiting children at school or busing them to the doctor without charge. Preschools are commonly provided without charge; Red Bird’s was a quality program licensed by the state and directed by a professional. Every town of any size at all has a junior college, a technical school, or a satellite of one of the state’s universities—sometimes all of them. And just up Highway 75 sits Berea College, the best-endowed school of its size in the nation, providing a free education for regional youth. So many scholarships are available for Appalachian youth that the area attracts or retains some families cashing in on the opportunities.

And so I was puzzled to hear so much talk about lack of educational opportunities in the area. I heard the talk at Red Bird, where devotion to its school reaches zealot proportion. I heard the talk when I traveled out of the region to churches, where well-meaning congregants were anxious to do their part to help mountain children get an education. It seemed to me somewhat like begging in the Garden of Eden. Everything is in place for educational achievement and yet the rates of graduation and higher education remain abysmally low within mountain communities. This low achievement is not for lack of the amount of money and energy poured into education from the outside. (During my year at Red Bird the cost to run its school was about $1.8 million, almost all of which was donated monies.) I suspect, instead, that this is an inside issue and requires much more than money to solve. This one is about values and will. When enough people in the mountains decide that education is important, things will change. When the will that values education grows large enough, the children of these hollers will flourish.

The Pigge-O-Stat

2011-06-06T13:30:00.000-07:00

What to do with all the "old junk" taking up space around the Clinic? Donate it to the Kentucky State Historical Society to start its collection of historic medical supplies! Yes, that strange and scary looking stuff was interesting to curator Chris Goodlett and the Society Board. Red Bird Clinic was an early provider of healthcare in Southeast Kentucky, and its preservation of equipment and supplies provides the base of a growing collection. The Society carefully researched each piece and catalogued it appropriately. Above I stand with Chris and the old "Pigge-O-Stat" that had been haunting the hall closet for years. (A Pigge-O-Stat was a device to hold small children still for x-rays.)

Volunteers

2011-06-06T13:18:00.000-07:00

Harry Brooks, long-time volunteer dental technician, donated a world-class lab & his time to provide dentures to many mountain residents.

During our year at Red Bird Mission 3,000 volunteers came to work on Community Housing projects. More came to help out with the school, community services, or in healthcare. Some long-term volunteers lived on the campus and volunteered full-time, generally helping in the school. Red Bird is a popular destination for church work teams, especially youth teams.

Tucked in the mountains, miles from the closest town, and with a tightly organized program, dorms and cabins, scheduled meals and activities, and a mid-week day off to explore the locale, it proved to be ideal for teams. Most came for a week, arriving Sunday evening in time for supper in the Cardinal House (its dining facility) and a program of introduction to the community and their work for the week. Team schedules included breakfast at 7 (some preceded by individual team devotions), work in community from 8 to 4 (most packed team lunches), supper at 5 (with showers pre- or post-), and ended with nightly programs in the Cardinal Houses auditorium. Thursday night programs were always a favorite, when teams participated in talent shows—a totally unpredictable evening of entertainment that always managed to please the crowd. Occasionally a local musician joined them for a touch of mountain music. Volunteers have saved a lot of homes in the mountains by providing the labor and materials for projects such as roofs, bathrooms (some a first), ramps, floors, walls, and more. The heat, humidity, and vegetation of the Daniel Boone National Forest took its toll on housing, especially if it was sub-standard to begin with.

Individual volunteers came for short and long terms (6 months or more makes one a long-termer). Several lived on campus and worked full time at the school; others came and went to work in varied services that Red Bird provides. Community Outreach was a popular workplace, especially for those who worked in its Christmas program, or in meal delivery or services for senior citizens. Occasionally medical volunteers came, including dental hygiene students or physicians with Kentucky licenses who could provide coverage for the on-site doctors. The Clinic was a popular place to do rural health rotations as medical students or those wanting to be Physician Assistants or nurses. I coordinated a number of programs with varied universities so that students could come get a taste of rural medicine on the edge.

One of the most amazing long-term volunteers was Harry Brooks, a retired dental technician specializing in making crowns, bridges, and dentures. Through his efforts--personal donations, soliciting donations of equipment, raising money--he built a world-class dental lab at the Red Bird Clinic. In addition to making the prosthetics needed, he also began a small training program to teach his craft to local students.

Chief Red Bird

2011-05-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

A mythical red bird figures large in the creation legends of the Cherokee ancestors of the Cumberland Plateau. One finds the title Red Bird somewhat frequently in the area of southeast Kentucky where we lived for a year. The Red Bird River (small sized by most standards, but a river nontheless) flows northward to join many other creeks & rivulets feeding the Kentucky River. Its source in the mountains around us were countless springs & streams burbling up from the mountain rock, enlarged throughout the year by snow & rain. The region drained by this river became known as the Red Bird Valley, a beautiful area lying mostly north & south & covering the rural counties of Clay, Bell, and Leslie. Chief Red Bird was a Cherokee leader friendly to local white populations until he was murdered & his body thrown into the local river. I was never entirely comfortable with that bit of local history. It told me that under the beauty of these mountains laid the story of a betrayal, a murder, & the transformation of a river into a grave. Sometimes I remembered that as I listened to the sounds of the Red Bird River flowing behind our house.

Appalachian Summer I

2011-05-06T12:09:00.000-07:00

Summer vegetables were always welcomed on our table.
The hydrangea bush I walked past on my way to work each day.

Yes, this is a county road & typical of the mountains.

The beautiful pine mountains of the Cumberland Plateau

One is left to wonder what will be around the next curve in the road.

Heavy. That’s the word I think of when I think Appalachian summer. Heavy as in the humidity of the air, the overhang of the forest canopy, the torrential downpours of rain, the low-hanging morning mist, the huge and daunting rocks of the mountains…even the heaviness of the fruits and vegetables bending stems and stalks of gardens in the hollers.

Since we lived in the depths of the Daniel Boone National Forest, summer brought on a verdant green canopy of foliage. Its depth obscured the mountain’s face and the homes hugging its edges. Allergy sufferers knew summer by the changing plant and tree leaves. Summer brought out the roto-tillers and garden seed. Many beautiful gardens filled hollers throughout the region, some immaculate and orderly; others a tangle of vegetable and weed stems. Preserving summer’s bounty was an art form for some, forgotten by others—thus instigating Red Bird’s efforts to reintroduce gardening skills to the region.

Summer humidity made us very thankful for air conditioning, and cranky when failed electricity or breakdowns made it go down. Heat came in relentless sweeps of 90-degree days that turned into 90 degree weeks, even months. Air temps often felt like 100+; everybody moved slowly and drank more; sweat poured and clothes stuck. We noticed something about living in a holler: the wind doesn’t blow there—it seems to skip above the ridges and misses the dips. We missed breezes. I often felt as if we were living in a terrarium.

Summer brought tourists to regions around the mountains, but not into the interior where we lived. Here children whiled away summer days playing in creeks, going to grandmas, and watching too much television or playing video games. The distance to parks, YMCAs, or organized activities meant a lot of idle time for youth. Red Bird did its part by providing a summer youth program and organized activities for young children through teens. Most families did not vacation, preferring to stay home during time off. Those who didn’t work to begin with, rarely left the mountains for lack of money or initiative. I found a love for travel very rare among mountain people.

Summer brought work teams en masse to Red Bird in order to participate in its Community Housing Improvement program. Beginning with trickles of teams in the spring and ending in trickles in the late fall, the housing program concentrates its projects on home repairs during the summer months. Work teams use school vacations to put youth energy to work on the many substandard homes in the Red Bird Valley. The forest with its vegetation and humidity, the mountains with their springs and dampness, take a toll on homes, especially on the trailer houses and substandard wood structures clinging to mountain edges. Many families are just now getting septic systems or adequate electricity; county safety and sanitation codes are not enforced in the region, making many homes dangerous and unsanitary for their occupants.

Summer brought community activities too, like cemetery reunions and bluegrass festivals. Cemetary services bring families together, and, yes, they are held at cemetaries. Women cook, men preach, children run around. Bluegrass festivals sometimes go on for days and feature many local groups, as well as national talent. The Osborn Brothers Bluegrass Festival is held each August in neighboring Hyden, featuring long days and nights of gospel, bluegrass, and country. I went to the festival and roasted in the summer sun, marveling at musicians performing energetically in long sleeves.

Yes, summer hangs heavy in the mountains. But even in the humid southern heat, flowers continue to bloom in succession even as hydrangea leaves wilt in daylight hours, water springs out of mountain rocks and the Kentucky River still flows toward the Ohio, the elk roam on mountain pastures, and people sit a spell on front porches. On lazy summer days, it’s good to find a shady spot, a fishing hole, a front porch…or an air-conditioned kitchen with iced tea flowing. Summer seemed to showcase the mountains in their richest and most verdant splendor, in massive coats of green leaves, grass and underbrush…a coat that soon enough would be shed for another season and only a promise of riches that would come again.

Appalachian Summer II

2011-05-06T11:39:00.000-07:00

Berries & branches, wild flowers & the fragrance of summer Tobacco barn on the Hal Rogers Parkway

The verdant greenery of the Cumberland Pass

The Kentucky River flows slow & smooth

Beautiful hollers hide away around many a curve

Appalachian hollers are hot. Little wind and few breezes find their way down from the trees lining ridges above us. Storms seem to move over us, or move up the least resistant roadways and rivers. The air we breathe in the summer is sultry and cloying, sticking our clothing to us like slippery Velcro. Even the birds go back to sleep for the day, dogs loll about lazy in the shade, and the hydrangea leaves droop like a basset hound’s ears.

Summer is a time for gardens. Most everyone seems to have one somewhere in their holler--if not theirs, someone in their family has one. I have seen the most beautiful gardens of my life back in these hills. Pole beans climb many feet into the air, making me half believe the Jack & the Beanstalk story. Corn, potatoes, melons, peas, beans and more; they’re all there.

Summer is a time for enjoying the spectacular beauty of these mountains. Many enjoy riding four-wheelers and horses up and down narrow trails; four wheelers are also commonly used for transportation on the local roads. Children splash in creeks and rivers, or if they’re lucky they have an above-ground pool in their back yard. Some make a day of visiting one of several water parks in the region. Fishermen and water buffs enjoy the many lakes and rivers, some creating huge recreational places by damming up their waters. Southeast Kentucky is a place of dreams for the outdoor enthusiast.

Summer is a time of reunions, of sitting on the front porch and watching the world go by, of Vacation Bible School in local churches, baseball, and children home from school. One thing that summer does not seem to bring to mountain people is travel and vacation. Most seem content to stay at home, even when they have the means to travel. For the many unemployed in the area, it seems the times of year run together without much interruption of schedules. For those who work and take time off, most enjoy their time at home on the porch. I have found the rare person who thinks about faraway places, but for most it seems the best place of all is right at home in the mountains.

Joan

2011-04-21T12:03:00.000-07:00

There was never a more entertaining guest or table partner than Joan. Joan could hold an audience captive with her many stories about life in the mountains. Her voice was soft and the cadence of her voice slow. You had to listen well, but it was always so worth it.

Joan arrived many years before to work with children and in the homecare ministries of Red Bird Mission. One of her beloved patients was Tildy, a sturdy mountain woman married many years to Sy. When Tildy died, Sy turned his eye toward Joan and the two surprised everybody by marrying some while later. Joan was 50 and it was her first marriage. By the time we arrived at Red Bird, Sy had died and Joan was learning to live alone again, but missing dreadfully the love of her life.

Joan had travelled many of the back roads caring for patients. Her goodness was legend. She never feared bad roads or people. She knew how to protect herself, and you just knew that she knew. She stayed at home protecting her household when forest fires raged through her part of the mountains. She handled sick, drugged, and dependent folks with ease. I think she wasn’t afraid of anything or anybody. Snakes? A whack with a machete takes care of them. Problems unsolvable? Prayer takes care of them. Hungry? Her garden was prolific and her fried apples the best you’ve ever eaten.

When I came home to fresh vegetables on the porch, I never had to ask where they came from. It was always Joan. Although declining health has taken her out of the mountains, she remains for me a friend and icon of stalwart faith and strength. A real mountain woman.

Church Basement Lady

2011-04-21T11:16:00.000-07:00

Fran Woodworth, Cook Extraordinaire

A popular book and entertainment program called “The Church Basement Ladies” profiles life in the kitchen of a Scandinavian Lutheran Church in Minnesota. But these ladies are everywhere and, if you attend church, you know some of them too. They can be the absolute heart of the church, bustling around between the stove and the refrigerator and serving up helpings of steaming love on special occasions. They are known for comfort food…literally. Their funeral dinners have comforted many families, as have hot tea and coffee on cold days before church. This is the group that turns out chicken and noodles by the gallon, invented Jello desserts, beats Keebler’s in the numbers of cookies baked, hosts luncheons by the legion, and ensures that no event goes unnoticed without refreshments.

There was never a truer member of this club than Fran Woodworth in Beverly, Kentucky. A retired pastor’s wife, she brought years of experience to the Beverly UMC kitchen. A woman who knew the taste and importance of good food for any occasion, Fran was one of the best cooks I’ve ever met. Fresh, real, homemade and lots of it…these were her mantra. No margarine. EVER. No generic mayonnaise. EVER. Only…well, only fresh, real, homemade, and lots of it. Thanks Fran for your generous use of culinary gifts; you are a true Church Basement Lady.

Just Special

2011-03-31T18:19:00.000-07:00

Tracy Nolan is just one of those special people you know for their intellligence and extraordinary compassion. As Director of Community Services, she oversaw a wide array of social services, wrote grants, shared vision, and always shared her enthusiasm for providing the best of care. Her passion and vision influenced our decision to move to the mountains.

The three of us worked closely together: Dr. Sharon Fogleman, center, (medical director) and Winna Wagers (business office manager). Both were very skilled at what they do; both worked hard, but laughed a lot too; both taught me a lot about the Clinic and about the unique community in which we lived; both made my job easy.

My Biggest Fan

2011-03-31T17:52:00.000-07:00

When Taylor Collins, PhD, arrived at Red Bird to take over as Executive Director, he was very clear: he did not like what I was doing at the Clinic. He had no intention of ceding any space or service to anybody besides Red Bird staff. Health care, as part of Methodist mission in southeast Kentucky, had "been in these mountains" for almost 90 years; he had no intention of letting it go.

Taylor was a graduate of Red Bird School and part of a large local family down on Jack's Creek. He went on to receive multiple degrees and worked as teacher, principal, and superintendent of schools near and far. He moved home to The Valley from Texas, and took over Red Bird Mission as its first Director to have grown up in the community. His local roots made him a favorite of locals; he seemed rather suspicious of those of us who had come from the outside.

It took time, but he listened to my well-reasoned reasons for divesting healthcare. Document after document, study after study, projection after projection...and finally he listened. Taylor Collins went from being my biggest critic to "being my biggest fan" (his words). His support helped persuade a sceptical board of directors and meant that healthcare was secured in the Red Bird Valley for the future. On January 1, 2011 health services at Red Bird Mission were turned over to the Adventist Health System; the partnership provided jobs for almost all of the staff, provided monies for the Mission, and continued quality care in the region. I worked myself out of a job and quietly slipped back to our home in Indiana.

Benny and I

2011-03-31T15:46:00.000-07:00

Benny Nolen, of Adventist Health Systems, and I worked many hours creating the opportunity for Red Bird Health Services to be contracted out to their Clay County hospital Manchester Memorial. We worked through personnel, facilities, profitability and other issues to create a proposal for Red Bird's leadership board. Benny took seriously the Adventist motto to "continue the healing ministry of Christ" by service to the people of the Red Bird Valley. It was a good match with United Methodist values and so we were successful in our efforts.

King Coal

2011-03-31T13:08:00.000-07:00

The bumper sticker says it all: “Coal keeps the lights on.” And so it does. Coal keeps the lights on for millions of homes and businesses around America. What would utility companies do without the relatively cheap fuel that keeps their fires burning brightly? And what would these people of the Cumberland Plateau do without one sure way out of poverty? For all of its controversy, coal remains king in the mountains and will remain so for the unforeseeable future.

The present controversy around coal is the practice of mountaintop removal. Once blasted off and the coal scooped out, a mountaintop can never be replaced. And so many, some mountain folks included, protest this form of mining. It would be easy to jump on the anti-coal bandwagon, except that I know we have allowed many acres of farmland to be turned into shopping malls and housing, and the green earth of my Minnesota home to give way to a deep gash of red iron ore. Most seem to be content that companies “reclaim” the land (whatever that means), planting trees on what remains and making the best of earthly wounds.

We hope for a day when fossil fuels can be replaced by renewable sources of energy and made available at affordable costs. We also hope that in the meantime new industries and jobs can emerge in the beautiful mountains, jobs that will allow the mountains to remain intact and the people to find good work. For now, we say thank you to those who go into earth’s black belly to keep our lights on.

Rural Poverty

2011-03-15T14:50:00.000-07:00

We hadn’t lived in southeast Kentucky long when it struck us that we were living in a place and with a people that reminded us of our experiences in the Developing World. It was more than the depth of poverty, lack of jobs, even environmental degradation. It was a basic life orientation focused either on the past or the present. Perhaps driven by simple survival, we met few whose outlook was toward the future--but many whose thoughts, conversations, and actions were rooted in the present. That meant that many decisions were made for immediate gratification, with little thought to the long-term consequences of those actions. For example, it was common for people to get a loan in anticipation of a tax refund and then spend the money immediately; for little connection of success in school leading to success in life. It was not uncommon for families living in squalor to spend hundreds, even thousands, of dollars on guns, ATVs, electronics and other non-necessities. I knew parents who spent an amount totally out of proportion to their salary on birthday and Christmas gifts. Even the terrible scourge of selling and/or using drugs pointed to this kind of thinking. This short-term orientation made it difficult for people to think about the future and about the effect of their behaviors on their own future.
It seemed that this inability or unwillingness to think about the future meant that dreams were in short supply. And when dreams die, the future (and the present) become even bleaker. So few young people seemed able to envision their own success. This lack of drive, ambition, dreams, visions (especially in youth) were especially hard to understand. It also meant that we found much pleasure in meeting those people who had lives filled with optimism and possibilities. However, almost no one we met seemed able to envision theirs to be a healthy, thriving community.
We discovered, too, that rural poverty is much more complex and difficult to address than urban poverty. In the mountains, the poor were scattered in invisible hollers, far away from anybody’s line of sight, and out of the mind of even their own county services. There were few jobs, no universities, no mass of people from which to draw human or monetary resources, no collection of health providers, no public transportation, no institutions, no grocery or hardware stores on corners, no churches large enough to address the needs. In southeast Kentucky land issues also fuel poverty, with huge swaths of land owned by the government, making it unavailable for private ownership and thus taxation (Daniel Boone National Forest & Cumberland Gap National Park) or held in some tension between private and corporate ownership (local mineral rights owned by coal companies). Lack of jobs, educational attainment, a culture of poverty, tight family units given to suspicion and squabbling, isolation, a population too dependent on government largesse, attitudes of entitlement—all magnified the poverty of the region’s very soul.
We never found answers. We only joined in the struggle for the short time we lived and worked in the mountains. We were fortunate in that my work of finding a sustainable health system had a solution; and Alan’s work on infrastructure also had a tangible focus. We believe that many of the resources, gifts, and talents needed to make a good life are resident within a community—not imposed from outside. We loved living among and working with the best of the Red Bird Valley. We hope that dreamers rise up from the community and cast a vision that brings enough people, energy, determination, and hope to transform community. It will be difficult, success is not ensured, & so far the soul of poverty has been winning the war.

Mountain Women

2011-03-15T14:40:00.000-07:00

Public Health nurses Angela (l) and Marilyn drove many miles in the "Blue Goose" (a temperamental old Jeep) providing care for elderly patients in scattered hollers. Their predecessors rode horses to provide care in the region.

One of the best things about mountain life was getting to meet & know awesome women. They are the best kept secret of the mountains. I heard stories of women shooing mountain lions off their porch with nothing more than an aerosol spray can, warding off intruders with a machete used for clearing brush, riding horseback or driving Jeeps to provide medicine and care in isolated hollers. One thing is certain: they are the backbone of family and culture in the hills.

It was not uncommon to find women working hard to support their families. We had many at Red Bird who were extremely dedicated, hardworking, and juggled the demands of life with grace. They follow in a long line of women who more than survived the hardship of the hills; they thrived in harsh circumstances. Some, however, lived lives I could neither understand nor accept: willing to support a husband who would not work, nor care for the affairs of home and children while she worked, or perhaps even engaged in illegal activity. There seemed to be no end to some women’s devotion to their men. Many endured a lifetime of isolation, violence and domestic abuse, alcoholism, or at the very least a life of being second-place. Mountain women are survivors.

I was often puzzled by the contradictory messages about the place of women that I heard from church and culture. The messages from mountain churches were that men are to be the head of households and heads in the church. One little congregation had no Sunday School for children because the men wouldn’t let the women teach, yet none of them would either. Women heard a lifetime of “submission” sermons. Women preachers were certainly not accepted in the indigenous churches. And yet for all the preaching about their proper place, women ruled home and community life.

I knew of a married man whose mother called him each morning to wake him for work; of another mother who called her daughter incessantly at work; of another who, even more obsessively, insisted on going to work with her daughter every day. Several of our married staff even told me they’d move back with their Mommy (the favored maternal term) “in a heartbeat”—with or without husbands. In disbelief I asked how their mothers felt about that. “They’d love it,” I was told. This seems to me the weakness of a strength taken to extreme. I found many relationships with mothers to be loving, close, and respectful. I also found those that were parasitical, manipulative, & intrusive. But I am not a mountain woman & knew I never would or could be. For better or worse, women rule the mountains. And don’t let any of the mountain men tell you otherwise.

Gap Cave

2011-03-15T14:30:00.000-07:00

A tiny subterranean salamander was a bright flash--invisible beauty except for those lucky enough to see one down under. (Photo taken w/o camera flash & w/ permission of Guide)

Cumberland Gap-Gap Cave
Ranger Matt lead our group of ‘spelunkers’ one hot July afternoon into the depths of Gap Cave. The coolness was a welcome change from the humidity and heat of a Southern summer day. We learned about the diverse history of the miles of subterranean caves in the area, including their use by Native Americans of the area, their shelter for Civil War soldiers, and their exploitation as tourist attractions decades ago—including one of its chambers being used as a popular dance hall. Our walk was surprisingly strenuous, with no amenities for handicap accessibility and rather rough wooden stairways to access some of the chambers. But there were enough stalagmites and glistening flowstone cascades, large and small chambers, and subterranean wildlife to capture all of our imagination. Our walk to the caves included a mile along the historic Wilderness Road.

Hensley Settlement

2011-03-15T14:18:00.000-07:00

Split-rail fences at Hensley Settlement
Original buildings of the Settlement remain intact. One loses any sense of being on a mountain top in the sweeping meadows of the site.

Cumberland Gap-Hensley Settlement

Exploring the now vacant Hensley Settlement is like taking a step back in time. Located on the large flat top of Brush Mountain, one can experience the quiet solitude and isolation of the Hensley families who made their homes there in the early to mid-20th Century. One can still walk down fence-lined lanes, step into the blacksmith's shop, look into the springhouse and sit in the one-room schoolhouse. A family cemetery occupies a corner of the large meadow; its many children’s graves a testament, perhaps, to the practice of intermarriage on the isolated mountaintop. The Hensley Settlement was established in 1904 by Sherman Hensley and was occupied until 1951. A Hensley family member still lives on the mountaintop as a guest of the National Park Service; his job is to provide security and a human presence to discourage vandalism at the site. The Park Service continued to manage a working farm at the Settlement until recent years; now it is only accessible on Park tours.

Cumberland Gap National Historic Park

2011-01-26T12:12:00.000-08:00

O Pioneers! This photo of early settlers making their way through the Cumberland Gap & into Kentucky territory graces the walls of Cumberland's museum.
One can see a stretch of the Southern Appalachian Mountains in Tennesse, Kentucky, & Virginia from Pinnacle Peak at Cumberland Gap.

Cumberland Gap was the first great gateway to the west; it’s paths were followed first by buffalo, Native American, the longhunter, and then pioneers... all traveled this route through the mountains into the wilderness of Kentucky. One can walk part of the old Wilderness Road, hike one of the parks 85 miles of trails, camp in a modern campground, enjoy its waterfalls and the lush forest of Southern Appalachia. A drive to Pinnacle Peak allows one to view the break in the mountains that provided passage for early pioneers, and to view three surrounding states: Tennessee, Kentucky, and Virginia. The Park is located in all three states, with camping on the Virginia side. www.nps.gov/cuga

Mountain Roads

2011-01-26T12:03:00.000-08:00

Above: this county road was giving way to water erosion & the eternal grip of gravity. Sometimes huge chunks of road simply fell off, as on the right side of this one.
Even on the paved & well-maintained highway 66, one breathless moment leaves drivers wondering what's on the other side of a disappearing road. Here the summit of Red Bird Mountain.

Mountain roads are the stuff of legend in SE Kentucky. Old timers divide between those using common sense & others in a lifelong challenge of never letting the road get the better of them. I found few terrors worse than traveling some mountain roads. One never knew when the road, already clinging tenuously high up the mountainside, would give way to erosion & the eternal grip of gravity. With few safety posts, these narrow roads hug the mountain on one side, and drop hundreds of feet down on the other, with no margin of space whatsoever at the sides. Cars not equipped for mountain driving can be caught, unable to get up a steep incline nor to back out safely. I was always unsure about where it was safe to drive, so I followed the advice of a local: stay on paved roads. Traveling too closely to a coal truck was also dangerous as they were known to be overloaded and everyone could tell a story about a truck that a.) dumped its load on the car behind it, b.) lost its load on a sharp turn, c.) tipped over trying to navigate a curve while carrying a top-heavy load,…well you get the picture. Other road warriors liked to tell their stories about going off the edge of a mountain & living to tell the story, being rescued from upside down landings in rivers, taking out trees, sliding down icy mountain drives, & more. Still others liked to brag about how quickly they could get across a certain pass or to the closest town, and you knew they were driving way too fast. “What about the possibility of an elk, a four-wheeler, a fallen boulder or tree, electrical lines down, a dog, a person walking, or whatever might be right around the curve in the road?” I would ask. The reply was almost always a nonchalant shrug. Although I lost my gut-wrenching fear of the roads, I never lost a huge respect for their inherent danger. And I avoided driving the pass over Red Bird Mountain as often as possible!

High & Low Water Bridges

2011-01-26T11:58:00.000-08:00

A low water bridge shows how little space is between the creek top & the road. No wonder people prefaced their commitment to being somewhere "if the creek don't rise"!

Road-building technology & blasting of narrow bands of mountain sides meant that roads could access most remote mountain sites. Swinging bridges & dangerously perched roads gave way in many places to wider, safer roadways (although many still cling tenuously to mountain sides). Even so, there remain “high water” and “low water” bridges, and, depending on the amount of rain that has fallen, low water bridges flood easily & make roads impassable. Most homes have access to major roadways by roads with high water bridges, but prefer the shortcuts on the roads with low water bridges. When a low water bridge floods, people have to go many miles out of their way to get anywhere, wreaking havoc with schedules, times, & sometimes the bottoms of their vehicles if they try to cross anyway. For a person not familiar with the labyrinth of mountain roads, a flooded low water bridge meant getting lost for sure!

Swinging Bridges

2011-01-26T11:55:00.000-08:00

An anchor end of a still-usable swinging bridge

Swinging bridges remain as a reminder of just how hard it was to settle & live in the mountains. Travel & transportation meant traveling through stream & river beds; early roads were built in the waterways themselves. Later, roads were built just up from the water on the banks, filling what little level space was available, or digging & blasting out enough dirt & rock to build actual roads. All roads followed riverways, they were the only ways through the mountains & certainly the only ways to link the tiny openings in the hills called hollers. When settlers came it always meant crossing a waterway (river or creek) to reach any open places suitable to build a home. The narrow swinging bridge (named for the swaying caused by being attached only at its ends) became the lifeline over water between holler and road. One wonders how anything large could be carried over the bridge. For as fragile as they look & as dizzying as they can be to cross, swinging bridges were a practical solution for settlers in the mountains.

Ladies of the Club

2011-01-26T11:51:00.001-08:00

Alan's farewell lunch with the Ladies of the Club (& George)-the women at the Senior Center who loved Alan as much as he loved them.

The ladies of the Red Bird Senior Center just loved Alan. The love affair began when Alan was tasked to repair the Center’s roof damaged by a fallen tree. Fixing the roof stretched into fixing storage space, building shelves, doing normal repairs, & more. His energy & friendly nature worked its magic on the ladies—no small feat for winning over strong mountain women. They invited him to eat with them & stay & visit as long & often as possible. They laughed a lot together and, yes, Alan fell in love with them too.

Quilting at the Senior Center

2011-01-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

This heirloom quality quilt was hand-pieced and quilted by the women of the Senior Center

The favorite pastime for the ladies of the senior center is quilting. A few spend their time on jigsaw puzzles or other crafts, but most of the women are hardcore quilters. They alternate quilts, taking turns quilting their personal projects with others to sell. They turn lots of scrap material that comes into Red Bird into quilt tops; other they purchase themselves or find on favorite annual shopping trips to a fabric shop in Tennessee. Turning scraps of fabric into works of usable art is a talent honed by years of thriftiness & the continuing efforts to keep fingers nimble. One of the most pleasant experiences for those visiting Red Bird Mission can be had by spending a day quilting with the ladies of the Dewall Center.

DeWall Senior Center

2011-01-26T11:39:00.000-08:00

Director, Zetta Bowling (r) with a senior center participant (whose blindness gives her a keen appreciation for the fellowship of the Center).

The Dewall Senior Center provides meals & something to do for senior citizens in the far reaches of Clay, Leslie, & Bell Counties in SE Kentucky. Because of their distance from county centers & isolated settings in tiny hollers along narrow mountain roads, these elderly people are all but forgotten by those providing services in their counties. It becomes impossible for them to participate in any senior programs in their county seat, even if they were inclined to do so (and few are). So Red Bird Mission provides a senior center to try to meet those needs, even though they receive little funding from surrounding counties & struggle to pay the cost of transporting, feeding, & entertaining those who come. Well, entertaining isn’t quite the right word, but you know what I mean. Meals also go out from here on the days of the week they’re open, & occasional side trips take the ladies to a local fabric store for quilting materials. Mostly the group shuns the new WII in favor of the quilting frame or visiting, and all are encouraged to participate when Marilyn Brock (retired public health nurse) comes twice a week for chair aerobics (Arthritis Association approved, of course). A very small number of those who are eligible in the area actually participate, but the Senior Center is a good antidote for the loneliness & isolation of life in these hills.

The Beauty Shop

2011-01-26T11:33:00.000-08:00

Meet Betty Collett, hair dresser extaordinaire

Moroccan Sand. Who knew? Well, Betty knew, and that’s the color of my used-to-be hair that she paints through the white of my current hair to low-light a more natural look. Whew. I’m so glad Betty knew. Finding Betty Collett was a relief for someone needing frequent cuts to keep short hair in line. Going there was always a pleasure. If there were others in the shop I just listened to and enjoyed the chatter of women. The topics seldom change from salon to salon, but here the southern accents and colloquial phrases were especially fun. Often the visitors were family members of some sort and over time I met Betty’s family in person or in conversation. When it was just Betty and I, we enjoyed conversations about our children, fishing, family members, work, quilting, mountain life and more. Like most other mountain people, Betty had no desire to travel. Her favorite places were her home, beauty shop, and the lake house where her husband and grandsons love to fish. Going to Betty’s was like therapy at times: an afternoon away from the office, a wonderful scalp massage, good conversation, a leisurely cut, wash, and color, and always the company of a fine woman. And yes, a good dose of Moroccan Sand always made me feel better.

Kettle Rock

2011-01-05T14:10:00.000-08:00

Note the elliptical nature of this "kettle rock" in the surrounding slate.

Here a kettle rock nestles into the layers of slate along a mountain road. The rocks present a danger to underground coal miners because of their propensity to fall from the slate onto the earth floor below during excavation. The slate, too, is dangerous as its slabs can break away & fall onto miners, creating horrific cutting injuries.

The office

2011-01-05T13:58:00.000-08:00

Mine is the corner office with windows on two sides. I can see the mountains over the buildings of the campus; my view generally goes up the holler toward the southeast. On sunny days I enjoy a bright space...at least during the mid-day hours when the sun is overhead & not hidden behind the rounded peaks. I always personalize my space, so this office has a large collage of travel pictures on one wall & hand-painted African canvases outside my door. People warned me that my canvases would be stolen, but there doesn't seem to be much interest in African art around here. I work at the end of a long, quiet hallway & find the need to take a walk into the clinic & business office areas several times a day. The stretch & conversation are always good. It is easy to feel disconnected when one's work is solitary, on a computer, & far away from others; I don't mind, though. Occasionally it gets noisy outside when clients come to check out the new goods at the Community Store next door. My violets love the light & fill the sills with color year-round. It is a lovely space in which to work & just a block from our house; one could get spoiled.

Where Alan works

2011-01-05T13:39:00.000-08:00

With a visiting workteam

In the woodshop

Alan volunteers full time at Red Bird, even more than full time. He cleaned & organized the wood shop, streamlining the equipment to create a functional workspaace, & refuses to let clutter impede anybody's work. This shop is the center from which he works. He often oversees teams (several at a time in the summer months), working both inside & out on campus buildings; in one rainy stretch he organized youth teams to paint trim in the shop itself. Projects ranged from building a handicap-accessible bathroom, reparing a roof & eaves, building in the service part of the cafeteria, laying flooring, demolition, enclosing storage, building shelving & storage, replacing garage doors, partitioning, finishing & painting an entire building, and more. His focus always remains on improving the buildings on the Red Bird campus itself, since visiting teams focus on community housing. He gave about 2,000 hours of time, donated equipment & supplies, & always works with much energy, expertise, & good humor.

Where I Work

2010-07-23T18:32:00.001-07:00

This is where I work: Red Bird Clinic, located in southeast Kentucky. It is related to the United Methodist Church & follows in the tradition of healthcare provided in these mountains since 1922. It began with one nurse, Lydia Rice, followed by a physician and then a succession of medical professionals. The made their way on horseback into remote hollers--just as we continue with Jeeps & other four-wheel drive vehicles. The entire 3-wing building was built in 1956 as a hospital, which then closed in 1986. Today we provide outpatient services with two physicians, a mid-level provider (a Physician Assistant right now), Public Health, Dental serivces, & a Dental lab, & support staff. Our doctors still make housecalls, they attend the celebrations and funerals of community families & are well known & respected throughout the region. Ours is a fine staff & the Clinic is a very pleasant place to work. Some of my favorite memories were made at lunch as we laughed & shared stories as only friends can. Since the staff is mostly women, they have given me insight into the strength & resiliency of mountain women--awesome indeed.

Where We Worship

2010-07-23T18:14:00.000-07:00

This is Covenant United Methodist Church, our church while here in KY. Located in Middlesboro, it is a mid-sized congregation with a great minister, wonderful music, a mostly professional congregation, & a wide outreach of service. We found the sermons of Dr. Philip Hill always inspirational and instructive and the music well-planned & excellent. I'll never forget "This is my Father's World" done on bells, guitar, flute, drums, & other percusives with a video of nature scenes surrounding us on 2 walls. We couldn't get to Covenant when bad weather made getting over Red Bird Mt. difficult; we missed much of Jan & Feb. Although we missed being more active, we were always renewed when we were there on Sundays.

Kentucky Horse Park

2010-07-23T17:52:00.000-07:00

The huge "Big Barn" & paddocks of the former Walnut Farm, now KY Horse Park

We spent a day at the KY Horse Park, a place we'd gone years ago & knew we would enjoy again. They were hosting an exhibit from Saudi Arabia on the history & culture of the Arabian horse. The grounds are part of the beautiful blue grass area around Lexington famed for horse raising & racing. These lovely words were included in the Persian lore of the creation of the Arabian horse: “And God took a handful of south wind…and said I give thee flight without wings.” We saw Morgans in competition, the Arabian exhibit, a club folks with horses & carts/wagons, several old champions 'put out to pasture,' the lovely grounds, a parade of varied horses, & an assortment of horses in fields. It was a day to be up close & personal with these who fly without wings.

The Quilt Trail

2010-07-23T14:35:00.000-07:00

above: This is my favorite Quilt Barn & it's located just a few miles from Red Bird.

There is a practice in Kentucky to paint quilt squares on old barns or other structures. This celebration of an old art form pops up in surprising places. It seems there is no road far enough off the beaten track that doesn’t have a barn quilt somewhere. They dress up many otherwise non-descript tobacco sheds into something rather wonderful. One can even follow a map of quilt squares around the area for a scenic drive.

Will Play for Food

2010-06-24T18:22:00.000-07:00

Don't you love a lively spirit? We encountered these two wonderful women, Mary and Jane, at the Cumberland Gap Dulcimer Festival. They shared their stories of picking up dulcimers to ease the grief of widowhood and the ongoing adventures that have come with the music. Here they are wearing shirts that say "Will play dulcimer for food or for any other reason at all actually." Their extravagant encouragement and lively spirits were infectious. They even had Alan joining in the music and me believing that learning to pick and chord a dulcimer are do-able endeavors.

My dulcimer

2010-06-24T18:17:00.000-07:00

I had visited the shop of Warren May in Berea. Known as a skilled woodworker and master dulcimer maker, I had hoped that if I ever were to buy a dulcimer it could be one made by Warren May. The prices caused me to pause, especially since I didn’t know how to play one at all. But the sound was so lovely, especially when chorded and picked, that I hoped to one day learn. One evening our local dulcimer player, Craig Dial, played and sang at Red Bird. He let me know that the Craft Store on the campus had a Warren May dulcimer that had not sold at any craft shows and was being put back on the shelf. It was a traditional dulcimer beautifully made with cherry wood and simple design. Warren May’s name graces it and I now own it. The learning is yet to come, but just holding the beautiful instrument makes me happy.

My psaltery

2010-06-24T17:55:00.000-07:00

Rick Long demonstrates proper psaltery bowing technique.

The bowed psaltery.

Psalteries are not ancient instruments and are fairly new to Appalachia. They are not the psalters of Biblical times, but the invention (I am told) of a German musician who wanted to craft an instrument fairly easy to learn and available to many. The triangular shape and the bowed strings create a sharp, ringing sound similar to a violin. The larger the instrument, the lower the pitch. They stand out distinctively as solo instruments. I have been intrigued with them for some time and was happy to purchase one this year. It was crafted by Rick Long of Ringing Strings in Tennessee and is beautiful of sight and sound.

The Dulcimer Festival

2010-06-24T17:45:00.000-07:00

Even Alan got in on the fun playing a washtub fiddle.
An informal afternoon jam.

Early May brings the Dulcimer Festival to Cumberland Gap National Park. Its organizers, Terry & Pat Lewis, attend our church and so we received a personal invitation to attend. But we wanted to anyway. Held at the campgrounds, musicians from around the U.S. arrive in RVs & tents for a week of music and visiting. We attended Friday and Saturday for the lessons and concerts. What fun!

The beauty of the Park, the blue skies and mellow evenings surrounded by music were wonderful. We met a lot of very interesting people—it was a mixture of old hippies, folksters, artisans, retirees, families, serious performers and luthiers, and more. Most were skilled on dulcimers, but there was an assortment of other instruments evident like the “hurdy gurdy” (sounded like a bowed bagpipe-weird), Indian flute, varied drums, banjoes and banjammers (banjo/dulcimer combinations), fiddles, guitars, mandolins, ukuleles and more. Large and small groups jammed all day and into the evening. Even Alan got into the action with a washtub fiddle. One extravagantly encouraging older woman continually assured him he was “doing just fine.” And he was.

I went intent on discovering more about bowed psalteries. I had seen one several years ago and was determined to learn to play one. The class illustrated just how difficult bowing and technique can be in what I thought would be fairly easy. But I was not deterred and bought myself one for Mother’s Day. A few days later, with the sound of dulcimers in my head, I bought myself a dulcimer too.

Appalachian Spring

2010-06-24T17:24:00.000-07:00

The dogwood bloomed in pinks & whites throughout the mountains.
Ornamental crabapples brightened many yards with early blooms.

Tulip, or magnolia as they are sometimes called, were generous in their early bloom.

The emerging greens of spring painted a chartreuse landscape across the hills.

Appalachian Spring: 2010

Spring comes in waves of emerging greenery and blooming trees and bushes in the mountains. It overlaps with winter in a series of “Little Winters” known as redbud, dogwood, sarvice, or blackberry—depending on what’s in bloom at the time of occasional dipping temperatures. Everyone welcomes the brighter skies and lengthening days. The gray skies, the shadows of encircling mountains, the inhospitable roads, and series of heavy snows made the winter of 09-10 a hard one—even by local standards.

Festivals herald spring’s arrival in Kentucky, just as they do in other places. An early one for this area is the Redbud & Quilt Festival in Barbourville. A quaint old town and home to Union College (a United Methodist institution), it is a fitting backdrop for a gathering of quilters & crafters. Red brick buildings of the college house the festival’s indoor activities while Red Bud and Dogwood bloom around the historic campus grounds. Spring has to get very warm, very quickly to get the redbud and dogwood to bloom at the same time; it did in 2010.

It’s hard to know what’s prettier: redbud, dogwood, crab apple, cherry, magnolia, mountain laurel. They’re all beautiful. For me, the redbud that lined the roads and bloomed mightily on rocky mountain spots were special. Maybe because they bloom so early & last quite a while. White dogwood were a close favorite as they dotted the mountain sides amongst the greenery of spring leaves.

Of course, there are many more festivals—civil war enactments, the Poke Sallet sounded interesting, the Mountain Laurel at Pineville may have been fun for kids with its inflatables. Lots of arts, crafts, food, and history are to be had on successive weekends through the area. Oh yes, another sure sign that spring has come are the early cars shows that will continue in most areas from months to come.

Emerging greenery on the mountain sides is like a bargello canvas being sewn. Waves of green—dark and light—undulate across the uneven surfaces. The first hint of green is barely perceptible and then one after another of the varied trees begins to dress for summer. Homes that were visible in the leafless winter begin to disappear. The stark metal buildings and conveyors of the coal mines soften in appearance from passing roads. Over a period of weeks the greens change to their mature fullness of summer and the forest settles in for the heat to come.

People emerge in spring too. Tillers get cranked up and gardens emerge in many of the flat bottoms of local hollers. Four wheelers begin to share the roads. One hears about the first ‘Cemetary Reunion,” knowing that their season is just beginning. School children begin their field trips and special end-of-year programs. Baseball starts, graduates party, pools open.

I love spring. New life and energy, accompanied by the flowering that promises new growth is a sure sign that life renews itself in a cycle of beauty and hope.

Looking Up from Under

2010-05-27T19:41:00.000-07:00

Don’t ask me why, I just love looking up from underneath. And so you will find me continuously gazing up through a tree’s leaves, crouching under the shrubs and bushes, peering up through every treed blossom I can find. Light looks different from the underside. Leaves and flower petals look more translucent, more delicate. Small veining emerges. Colors are changed and muted. The color of sky and clouds become backdrop. Orange looks one way against blue and another against green. Perhaps I should think more profoundly about why I love this perspective—or maybe not. Maybe it is enough just to say: I love looking up from under.

Sanders Cafe

2010-05-27T19:37:00.000-07:00

Sanders Café: the first

Whether you love Kentucky Fried Chicken or not, the Sanders Café is a must if you’re driving down highway 75 in southern Kentucky. This is the home of the first KFC, the enterprise that started with a social security check and the entrepenurial skills of Harlan Sanders, otherwise known as Colonel Sanders. Here you can order anything off the KFC menu and eat it at the well-worn tables of the original serving site. Here one will be surrounded by a museum of KFC memorabilia, including the original kitchen, tables and chairs, cash register, hutches, weather vane, and more. The restaurant was part of a small motel and The Colonel advertised his rooms by setting one up at the restaurant. He believed that if “Mom” could see how clean and well-done the rooms were, they would gladly take their family there to stay. The motel and restaurant served many people traveling through. The Colonel had a long career in business, owning an oil distributership, even running for the Senate. His legacy, however, started with less than $200. (one Social Security check) and a lot of hard work. His franchises continue to thrive and the chicken’s still good. Nobody yet knows what’s in its “11 herbs and spices.”

Cumberland Falls

2010-05-27T19:32:00.000-07:00

There is a beautiful spot where the Cumberland River falls over a rocky ledge and where a moon bow glows in the full moon. Preserved in a state park, the falls continue to draw many to its peaceful setting. Trails and rocky overhangs, ferns and lichen, water and sky, and the eerily beautiful moon bow are a little treasure with magic all their own.

Festival of Nations

2010-05-11T18:28:00.000-07:00

Festival of Nations

We saw the ad for “Drum,” a group from Nova Scotia celebrating the many cultures of that province with drumming, song and dance. The thundering drums convinced us that we just had to visit the annual Festival of Nations at Dollywood. We were not disappointed. So we made our second trip to Pigeon Forge in three months, this time to celebrate music, dance, story, and food from around the world. We listened to Zambian acapella harmonies, watched Peruvian folk dances, gasped at the Chinese acrobats, chilled to Ecuadoran flutes, and sat enthralled by the drumming and story of Drum. Two days of international culture in arts and cuisine were exactly what these two travelers needed.

Redbud Festival

2010-05-11T17:18:00.000-07:00

Redbud Festival

Spring is official when the redbud bloom and the Redbud Festival comes to Barbourville. The Festival takes place on the Union College grounds, Union being a venerable old United Methodist school. This annual event draws quilters and crafters from throughout the area. Fortunately our day on the grounds was sunny, blue sky-ed, and the redbud were in full bloom—right on schedule. We enjoyed viewing the quilts (I even bought a package of fabric squares to make a “charm quilt”), purchased some glass mosaic tiles for our gardens, talked to crafters, ate barbecue, and enjoyed the early promise of spring.

Appalachian Winter

2010-05-11T17:06:00.000-07:00

Appalachian Winter

How does one tell the story of a winter that lasted too long and brought a lot of misery? I’m told that the winter of 09-10 was unusual—unusually long, unusually snowy, unusual for sickness and death and distress. I don’t know; it’s been my only mountain winter but I’ll take their word for it.
We had six major snowfalls of several inches each. Each one brought the schools to a standstill and made driving on the mountain roads treacherous. School was out for most of January because of road conditions. I’m thankful we made it through winter without hitting a guardrail or another car or going off a road. Alan had a lot of fun plowing and blowing snow at Red Bird; he seemed to be one of the few enjoying the snow! However, we discovered there is also a great stark beauty to winter here. All the little rivulets and streams of water froze as they tumbled over rock ledges. The roadsides were edged with frozen waterfalls of all sizes, widths and lengths. I called them frozen music and could never get enough of looking at them.
A wet snow knocked out electricity for five days just before Christmas. Although we slept at our house in 40 degree temps, the clinic had a generator and I could go to work like normal. Alan worked on generators, blew snow, & helped in other tasks. A few slept in the mission guest rooms; we all took meals together and worked to cook up our quickly rotting food on a camp stove. The experience redefined the term “Red Bird Family.” Fortunately, most had left the campus for Christmas in other parts and those remaining survived the week. We were mighty glad to get power just in time for Christmas Eve services and other celebrations.
Unfortunately, winter brought sickness and death to people we love. Two friends were diagnosed with serious cancers, friends just too young and vibrant for such a thing. Another friend was hospitalized and struggled all winter to breathe. In January our lab tech’s husband was killed in a coal mining accident. A safety violation left unrepaired, a 29 year old husband and father crushed to death by coal, and the clinic and community were left in mourning. We still grieve for the young widow, Pam, and her three year old son.
So winter settled long and hard in these mountains. Everybody endured, or course, but all were anxious for the first signs of spring.

Little Winters

The big winter is followed by a series of little winters. These little winters appear after the days have begun to warm but are interrupted by cool days with night temperatures that reach down toward freezing. They are named after the plants that might be blooming at that time and appear in this order: Sarvice Berry Winter, Red Bud Winter, Dogwood Winter, and Blackberry Winter. Hopefully there aren’t any more cold snaps than that. One may need to cover their plants during one of these ‘winters’ but they’re never very threatening and are soon gone.

Winter Wilderness

2010-03-19T19:17:00.000-07:00

The Daniel Boone National Forest is spectacularly beautiful in any season. Winter spareness exposes its strong basic shapes.

Winter Flowers

2010-03-19T19:01:00.001-07:00

Dollops of snow remind me of flowers on the winter greenery.

Winter Fun

2010-03-19T18:50:00.000-07:00

Nobody had more fun than Alan when snows came. Trucks, scrapers, blowers, scoops--big toys for big boys.

Red Bird Winter 2

2010-03-19T18:34:00.001-07:00

Red Bird Clinic never closed, no matter how hard the snow fell.

A rare blue sky turned snowy hillsides into shimmering grandeur.

Winter's gray tones soften the terrain.

The view that greeted us many winter mornings at our front door. Fog often obscured the mountains in any season, but especially in winter.

Red Bird Winter 1

2010-03-19T18:14:00.000-07:00

Cardinal House is well-known to the thousands who eat meals here each year.

Even a fake cardinal looks beautiful under a coat of snow.

Winter was a long season of gray, white, and cold. The occasional green pine added interest.

Little streams and rivulets flowed freely to fill the Red Bird River nearby.

Thanks to Bob Pohli for this lovely view of the log cabin & wood shop from above.

Smoky Mountains

2010-02-13T12:34:00.001-08:00

Smoky Mountains
Smoky Mountain National Park is beautiful in January too! Our drive over Newfound Gap Road offered vistas of cold, blue mountains and snowbanks on its summit. Most roads are blocked in winter, but hikers & bikers still appeared. The rhododendron, mountain laurel, and dogwood are waiting to wake to springtime splendor. It is said that no other place this size in a temperate climate boasts such diversity of plant and animal life. We have seen the Park in summer and winter; now I look forward to seeing it in the spring.

Bean Station

2010-02-13T12:30:00.000-08:00

Bean Station
We drove through Cumberland Gap and over Clinch Mountain in northeast Tennessee on our way to Smoky Mountain National Park. Clinch (TN) and Pine (KY) Mountains must have looked like such formidable obstacles to westward-bound adventurers and settlers. Now Cumberland Gap is easily traveled through a spacious tunnel, and the little town that marks its southern entry is a destination for a good meal at Webb’s Restaurant. Summertime brings Civil War reenactments, a reminder of the divided loyalties of mountaineers and the multiple exchanges of Union/Confederate power in the Cumberlands.

Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg

2010-02-13T12:22:00.000-08:00

My memories of Gatlinburg are that one has to endure it in order to get into Smoky Mountain National Park. Now a spur allows drivers to skip the town and arrive directly at the entrance. A convention of youth were filling the streets there so we spent a couple rainy days outlet shopping in Pigeon Forge. Bass Pro and Coleman were the best; we left refitted with a new tent, air mattresses, lightweight sleeping bags, cooler, and more. The tent door swings as well as zips—how neat is that? Since we spent our money shopping we’ll have to go back for a show or two next time around. A little community of artists lives outside Gatlinburg so local pottery and paintings fill many shops. Vacation cabins filled the mountains above, some like elevated subdivisions devoid of trees (reminding us of beehives or anthills), but others perching bravely on outcroppings and affording the most fantastic of views.

Frozen Music

2010-01-20T18:15:00.000-08:00

The sounds of falling water are silenced by the deep chill of winter. The early days of winter allow the mountains to show their teeth. But time creates wide swaths of frozen water. This is what frozen music looks like.

A Mountain Christmas

2010-01-20T17:58:00.000-08:00

Marilyn & I enjoyed playing traditional & Celtic Christmas music on our 'harps.'

All the fixings--including the ubiquitous soup beans. Good food & conversation.

Although Marilyn & Baxter live simply, their hospitality & friendship are generously offered.

Christmas eve and Christmas day were extra special because our power had come back on after five days without. Christmas eve afternoon Alan & I drove across the mountains to the home of our Public Health nurse and her husband: Angela and Tommy Hubbard. The day was sunny & the creek in front of their house was bubbling loudly. We enjoyed their fine cooking and fellowship. Tommy loves to hunt, fish, fix big equipment…guy stuff that Alan loves talking about. Angela loves her home & family & work… stuff that I love talking about. Tommy’s chili held a hint of cinnamon, a surprise that reminded us of our years in Greece.

In the evening we went to church at Beverly UMC for their traditional Christmas eve service. The Chrismon tree was brightly lit, the carols and lessons were shared by all, I played organ with two other much more talented musicians on piano & electronic keyboard. Silent Night in candlelight only was a welcome reminder of our many extraordinary Christmas Eve services at First Church. It was simple but very nice.

Christmas Day meant sharing the excitement of grandchildren by telephone. They don’t change. The day is always a little magical. At eight Gracie is really wondering about Rudolph and reindeer and Santa and elves this year. One doesn’t have to teach children about this at all; they simply pick it up from the people and events around them. These young families do a good job to combine the sacred celebration of our faith and the fun of an American Christmas.

Later in the day we drove up the mountain a ways to friends Marilyn & Baxter Brock. Marilyn is a retired nurse and a book waiting to be written. She has an extraordinary number of stories, jokes, home remedies, & witty sayings tucked away in her head. She cooked a huge meal with all the trimmings and Baxter made is normal contribution: soup beans. The tasty kind cooked with lard, just like the mountain folks like them. Marilyn & I played our autoharps—traditional & Celtic favorites—while the men talked (& talked & talked). Although they live simply, Marilyn & Baxter extend a warm generosity & mountain welcome; we were warmed by their wood fire & genuine friendship.

Christmas was good--different, but good. We embraced the new people and traditions of this place, thankful for this opportunity that is ours. At the same time we held dear our family and friends and our memories of Christmas past. In Kentucky we don’t have to watch Polar Express 12 times before Christmas…not a bad thing. But leave behind Grammie’s Christmas bread? Not a chance. Everybody got theirs…some early and some late. There are some Christmas traditions too good to let go of.

A-Caroling We Go

2010-01-20T17:45:00.000-08:00

Part of the fun of Christms was delivering fruit baskets and caroling. As feeble as our singing was, the recipients insisted we "sang beautifully." Of course, many were also hard of hearing! Many joined the songs; all were grateful for our visit. This is the true spirit of Christmas.

Christmas week without power

2010-01-20T17:39:00.000-08:00

A large limb crushed the DeWall Senior Center sign, as well as part of the roof.

Christmas week of 2009 proved to be more memorable than even we could have imagined. The power went out on the Friday before Christmas (one week) and stayed off until late Wednesday evening. The few people left at the Red Bird campus huddled together in a few heated rooms in the only building on a generator: the clinic & old hospital. Alan & I slept at the house—snuggled deeply under a sleeping bag in 42 degrees. He worked on generators during the day & I was about the normal work at the clinic. The group took common meals cooked in microwaves and on a camping grill. My kettle of corn chowder cooked on the grill turned out nicely for the group too. Food, blankets, and emergency supplies were delivered to some of Red Bird’s frailest clients. One 90 year old man was brought from his home to our shelter so that we could care for him. A winter blizzard had blanketed the area with snow & ice, breaking limbs & uprooting trees, knocking out power & contaminating water. A tree fell on our senior center & one of our garages collapsed. We were beginning to wonder if we would be cold through Christmas, but it was not to be. Everybody cheered when lights flickered on, hot water heaters kicked on, and furnaces began blowing warm air. Having electricity, being in our homes again, taking showers, being warm, having water…we had every good gift we needed.

Family Christmas

2010-01-20T17:35:00.000-08:00

Seven of ten grandchildren--we missed the absent ones.

Like Thanksgiving, Christmas was a series of “new traditions.” We drove to Indiana for an early Christmas with family. We (Ryan’s, Rachelle’s and us) got together at Ryan & Tristi’s home for a delicious dinner & gift exchange. Ryan had the fire roaring in the fireplace (oh how we miss ours!)…too hot even for the dog to lie down in front of it! Our gifts are simple—something fun and something practical is our mantra. We look forward to hooking up the electronic photo frame with ever-looping pictures of family for our home. The best presents of all never need wrapping: a grandchild’s hug, the sound of children playing, laughter, a meal shared, a memory made. Thank God for the gift of life.

Thanksgiving

2010-01-19T19:00:00.000-08:00

Rachelle & Gracie fixed the salad.

Morgan chopped celery (that knife looked a little too sharp, but he did fine.

Madalynne helped with pie...she loves baking and eating!

Thanksgiving...

We missed our familiar Thanksgiving at “grandma’s” house, but this Thanksgiving was good too. Rachelle & Jeremie and kids and Alan and I drove to Michigan to be with Rae Lynne & Rodney & family. We had little time but it was good. The kids played and helped, and we all watched our first viewing of Polar Express for the season. Rae Lynne tried steaming the turkey all night on a low oven, but did not know that her oven has a safety switch that shuts it off after so long. We awoke to just an ordinary morning, no aroma of a baking turkey to be found. So she cranked up the oven & got the big bird cooked in no time flat, with time left for all the other baking. It was lovely to be together. Late on Black Friday we ventured out into a store so I could finish Christmas shopping for the kids and leave the gifts with them for later. The time passed so quickly, but every moment was treasured with true thanksgiving.

Gladie Homestead

2009-12-09T17:44:00.000-08:00

Above are photos of the inside of a tobacco-drying barn. Notice the many racks elevated into the ceiling area on which long leaves hang upside-down for drying. A collection of old farm tools fascinated Alan-some familiar to him from his days on the farm.

Quilt designs are commonly found on old barns throughout Kentucky. They create a quilt trail, another way for tourists to discover quaint and lovely places throughout the state.

The old homestead, once so far away from anywhere, is now accessible by an asphalt road--but still from away from anywhere!

Red River Gorge

2009-12-09T17:35:00.001-08:00

One drives along the Red River Gorge, pulling off into overlooks to catch glimpses of the magnificent gorge created by the Red River.

Natural Bridge-2

2009-12-09T17:17:00.001-08:00

Natural Bridge State Park is too magnificent for just one posting! It's trails, trees, rocks and views are breathtaking. There is no better time than a crisp, clear fall day to enjoy the park.

Natural Bridge

2009-12-09T16:44:00.000-08:00

Natural Bridge

With autumn leaves turning & the sky beaconing blue, we took a day in October for hiking in Natural Bridge State Park & the surrounding area. Natural Bridge is a wonderfully wild place with great vistas, craggy stone outcroppings, shaded trails, caves, and mossy rocks. Our day there was uncrowded, but did include several dads on outings with out-of-school children that made the chatter around us lively and fun. We hiked the easier way up to the Bridge, but took the tougher trail down. We felt our legs trembling by day’s end. The leaves were barely turning, but were still beautiful. We walked for a few hours and then enjoyed a late lunch in the lodge restaurant. After eating we drove and photographed along the Red River Gorge and visited the remote Gladie Homestead in the Park. We were the only people at the Homestead so we wandered slowly around the property and through the old tobacco barn. Alan even stretched out in the late afternoon sun and took a nap on the grass.

The bridge's size makes it hard to photograph from close-up. It's awesome.

Grand Moments

2009-11-01T17:04:00.000-08:00

Daughter, Rachelle & her husband, Jeremie and Grands Gracie and Noah spent fall break with us. The kids did fine, but mom and dad suffered from car sickness on our winding roads. Mostly we enjoyed hikes in the beautiful autumn woods where nobody got sick.

Grand moments

It was a wonderful week with the grandkids (Grands), Gracie and Noah. At eight and seven they are full of life, questions, comments, and more sugar and spice than is almost bearable. One day we were gazing at a mountain vista, the breeze blowing Gracie’s soft blonde hair around her wondering blue eyes. She sighed, “Ohhh, Kentucky looks just like it did in my dreams.” Gracie, I think that Kentucky blue is almost as pretty as your bright Pearson eyes.
Not to be outdone in the comment column, Noah had a word or two to share in the week too. Although he tended to dance on rocks rather than stand on them, he proved an able “guide” on our mountain hikes. Driving past a sign one day that said Dead End, he seriously informed us that this was where one went on the last day of their life. What a sweet week.

Beverly UMC in its fall colors

2009-11-01T16:54:00.000-08:00

The Beverly UMC is picturesque no matter what time of the year it is. The sound of a babbling brook greets attenders; it reminds me each Sunday of the sacred symbolism of water...birth, rebirth, cleansing, life itself.

Pine Mountain State ParK

2009-11-01T16:46:00.000-08:00

Lunch at this park is a treat. It has a great buffet…but an even greater view. It’s a popular spot for the after-church crowd on Sunday, as we found out on a gorgeous fall day. The vista is spectacular and we were so grateful to get a table right next to the window! The room was full and we lingered long enough for the waitress to give us the look.

Splendor in the Leaves

2009-10-25T18:26:00.000-07:00

The colors of fall are simply splendid here in the mountains of southeast Kentucky. They are more than just seen; they are experienced. Every windy road turns into another colored postcard and every ridge becomes a vista of multi-colored puffs. If the day is clear, the sky is a beautiful blue—bluer than turquoise, clearer than blue topaz. I’ve heard it called simply Kentucky Blue. I didn’t know I liked the combination of blue and orange so well, or blue and yellow. The very best shades of color happen when you get under the leaves and look up through their translucence into the sunlight. I wish I could describe it, or paint it, or capture a photo—but none do the sensation justice. The colors of fall are simply to be experienced.

Mountain Nurse

2009-10-04T18:33:00.000-07:00

You would love Marilyn Brock. She's retiring this month after 34 years as the Public Health Nurse here at Red Bird and the years before that in PA, KY, and Sierra Leone. "She's a dandy," the mountain folk say; I say she's the end of an era. Marilyn thought nursing on horseback in the mountains sounded fun so she came to the Frontier Nursing School to study midwifery after getting her RN. Instead of horses, she has made her way around many a winding, steep and uncertain path in Jeeps. I spent a day on the road with her, and sure nuff, we broke down! Her patients love her; she's not only a crackerjack nurse, she's also got the biggest bunch of stories and jokes you ever heard. Marilyn is also a musician and we play four-hand piano every week in chapel, sometimes sing together, and my affection for her caused me to humiliate myself in front everybody singing a song I wrote for her and playing my own autoharp. We have great fun together. I was there when one of her patients, Miss Addie, broke out singing "Walk Around Me Jesus." --And he did. Marilyn is a walking example of a lifetime of love poured out for others. We wish her godspeed.

The Beverly U M Church

2009-10-03T18:30:00.000-07:00

The Beverly United Methodist Church is one of the most beautiful and quaint churches you will ever see. It looks like a postcard--nestled in the mountains with a babbling creek running along side. Wild flowers bloom & the sound of water is ever present. Inside, it's chestnut paneling gleams in soft light and a stained glass window graces the front. This is a peaceful, sacred place.

My old Kentucky home

2009-10-03T18:18:00.000-07:00

Here are a few photos around our house. You can see that we are surrounded by mountains & much green vegetation. Our front door looks toward several houses and our back door faces a square of grass surrounded by apartments. Teachers & other staff live in these smaller places. We are fortunate to have a single home: 1,300 sq. feet with a single garage.

2009-09-01T20:05:00.002-07:00

Saying goodbye

2009-09-01T20:05:00.001-07:00

Saying goodbye

Saying goodbye to family was so hard. We had said goodbye to Alec, Layne, and Jessa earlier. We had said goodbye to Madalynne and Morgan (and their mom and dad) when we left them in Michigan the first of July. And that meant that we still had Gracie & Noah, with their parents to bid farewell. The Sunday before we left, the church had a potluck after church in order to fellowship and say goodbye. Actually the women of my Bible study organized it, and it was wonderful, right down to the tables with linen and lovely centerpieces. There was a short time for remembrances after the meal and it was a lot of fun. We love the people at First Church; they have been our spiritual family for many years and we have grown & served & lived out our faith together in the uniqueness that only comes with being part of a church. Elaine sang a song for us: Make My Life an Alleluia--and I cried through most of it. And this was the day that our dearest friends would lay their hands on us and pray us into our future; “laying on of hands,” as we call it, always has a powerful effect on me.
But our last day at church was the day we were leaving. I’d not slept, we had a long drive ahead of us, & I was dreading the goodbyes. Then, too, I’d planned to speak & sing in a quartet, & knew that Rachelle had planned a special song. The speaking went well, singing the offertory went well, but then Rachelle & Brian sang a goodbye--one of my favorites: “Be At Rest.” Taken from the songs of David, this wonderful Steve Green version of Psalm 116: 7-8 says this: “Be at rest, be at rest once more, oh my soul, for the Lord has been good. For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and You, O Lord have delivered my feet from stumbling. Be at rest, be at rest once more. O my soul, for the Lord has been good to You.” And then Rachelle went out the back door of the sanctuary and I heard her sobbing out loud. I remember standing up when it wasn’t the time to stand, and just stumbled out after her. It was so very hard to hug her and Jeremie and little Gracie and Noah goodbye. I miss our children and grandchildren terribly. This is the borne cross. But the words are true and my soul is at rest; Rachelle knew it was just the right song to sing.

2009-09-01T20:04:00.000-07:00

Moving Day

2009-09-01T20:02:00.000-07:00

Moving Day

Wow. We had so much help it was like a large human vacuum cleaner sucking the stuff out of the house. We hired two professional movers to direct the packing of the 26’ U-Haul truck, and then Nick (Indiana UM camps’ director) & his sons and friend showed up at 8 a.m., and Dave, Don, Joe, Ron, & Marge came from church, and family Ryan & Jeremie came to help move. They were all absolutely awesome. The two professional movers were so impressed by the help; they said they’d never in their years of moving seen so much and such good help. By noon the house was empty and a 26’ truck and a 12’ trailer were all packed and ready to go. We were loaded and heavy. And I was a nervous wreck. My exhausting weeks caught up with me on those last days and I went a couple nights with no sleep. Fatigue is not my friend. I was almost overwhelmed by what we were doing and what was ahead of us; fatigue also makes me become more emotional and the stress causes diarrhea. So my last day at home left me a bit of a basket case! I was not in good shape for our last day at church and our farewell to family and friends.

2009-09-01T20:00:00.000-07:00

2009-09-01T19:57:00.000-07:00

The Move

2009-09-01T19:56:00.000-07:00

The Move

The summer of 2009 was a blur. I was finishing a job and carefully preparing it for somebody else. It was an emotional farewell, saying goodbye to my work with the wonderful people of the Indiana Conference of United Methodist Churches. I had poured my heart into it for 8 ½ years. Our final Annual Conference was a mix of joy & sadness, followed by an accident that totaled our car. Through this we had to help our daughter, Rae Lynne’s, family get their house ready to sell, packed, loaded and moved to Michigan. It was exhausting. We returned to Indiana with four days to ready for a sale in which we would sell about 2/3 of our household goods. And after the sale we would have 5 days to pack and leave for Kentucky.
Somehow one’s belongings don’t look so good splayed out on tables and the drive and the yard. It’s really a pathetic looking site, looking at one’s life laid out for sale. It was sometimes painful, but we were probably too tired to appreciate the immensity of what we were doing. We gave the kids what they wanted & could fit in their homes & sold the rest. It was just stuff, but it was ‘our stuff’ and our life being dickered over and carted away in other people’s trunks. I thank God for my friend, Paula, who helped sort, haul, stack, price, & sell our stuff. And John & Nancy who brought food and then bought some things, & Marge & Dave who helped through it all. The sale was very successful , what was left went to the local homeless shelter, and the remaining goods were just about right for our much smaller home in Kentucky. In the end, downsizing this much had a rather freeing effect. And if we ever move back to our Logansport home we’ll have to buy new furniture….not all that bad of an idea!
After the sale, we had five days to pack all the goods we were moving to Kentucky. It was a marathon and ran late on several nights. We found french fry boxes from Mc Donalds were just the perfect size. Thanks to Karen, Marge, Rachelle, & Bonnie we got the household packing done. If I never hear the sound of ripping packing tape again in my life I’ll be happy.

Gut Check

2009-09-01T19:55:00.001-07:00

Gut Check

From the time we decided to move to Red Bird Mission a number of odd and adverse circumstances hit us. Some would say we were being tested. Some said it was the Devil trying to discourage us. Some thought we should rethink our decision and stay in Indiana. I think a series of natural events took place, one after another, but in such a way that they tested our resolve. I can honestly say, when the chips were down and the pressure built up, we never wavered….not from sheer resolve, but because we just felt/knew this was the direction to go and we wanted to do it! We couldn’t wait to get started. Perhaps the incidents provided a simple gut check. We still believe it was right and are confident in our choice to move. It was not easy, but it was right and good. An old gospel song says this: “God never makes you go against your will, he just makes you willing to go.” I would say not only willing, but ready and anxious to go. Anticipating and looking forward to going. One goes because staying put just isn’t an option anymore.

The Call

2009-09-01T19:53:00.000-07:00

The Call

I now find others asking us: “What made you move to Kentucky?” And implicit in that question—from United Methodists anyway—is the understanding that the underlying question is “How is that you were called to Red Bird?” I’ve asked many people, myself, to explain their “call” to me, and was never satisfied that I knew just what they meant by an understood call.
So now the shoe is on the other foot and others wonder about us. Surely some sense of call motivated us to leave family, our friends and church, our home and possessions, and move to a very remote place in Southeast Kentucky. Our story won’t make any more sense to you than others’ stories made to us. We simply couldn’t not do it. It would have hounded us. As believers in the Christ, we say our lives are not our own, they are lived by and for a much larger purpose than that of simple human existence. So short of getting philosophical, theological, or weird, I can only say that our faith has been like stepping into a stream and it has carried us along our entire lives. (And water has so much spiritual significance that this seems an apt analogy.) It is the only life worth living and it is wholly satisfying.
And so we said yes to an opportunity to live and serve in the heart of the mountains and forest of Southeast Kentucky. We don’t know that it is for the rest of our lives. We say it’s not so much a destination as a direction. And that is enough for us.

Bandelier National Monument

2009-01-17T18:55:00.000-08:00

Archeologists believe that today's Pueblo people descended from groups of hunters and gatherers who came to northern New Mexico over 10,000 years ago. These Ancestral Pueblo People were farmers, weavers, and potters. By the mid-1200s some of the communities were made up of villages of as many as 40 rooms. The Long House at Bandelier is an 800 foot stretch of adjoing, multistoried stone homes with hand-carved caves as back rooms. The ruins at Bandelier include many homes with cave extensions, as well as kivas (round, underground caves that were the center of religious life), petroglyphs, footpaths, and the spirits of those Ancient peoples who came before today's Pueblo People. By the mid-1500s villagers had moved on, settling into new homes in villages along the Rio Grande River. Descendents of this group continue to live in several Pueblos in the region of the Frijole Valley.

Red rocks of Abiquiu

2009-01-17T18:49:00.000-08:00

The Rio Grande River

2009-01-17T12:06:00.000-08:00

2009-01-17T11:45:00.000-08:00

The Abbot

2009-01-15T13:29:00.000-08:00

The Abbot

The role of the Abbot is one of extreme importance. The Abbot is elected by a community of monks; he becomes not only ‘father’ but also represents Christ in their midst. The Abbot is responsible for the spiritual welfare of the Community, as well its physical well-being. This means that he is the father/patriarch of a band of brothers (and sisters if nuns are also part of the community), a businessman in charge of the financial support of the community, an administrator, a counselor, clergy, church bureaucrat, and more.

Abbot Philip at Christ of the Desert has lived the monastic life for 50 years, and been an Abbot for 30 of those years. His journey into monasticism, he believes, literally saved his life. His devotion to the men and women of the monasteries under his care is evident in his conversation. You can read his weekly homilies and bi-weekly newsletter at http://www.christdesert.org/. We were struck by his ready laugh, loving spirit, quick wit and wisdom, and family resemblance. When he spoke of his youthful rebellion and downright orneriness, we knew that under the Benedictine habit was a real human heart transformed by a lifetime of following Christ. We are so happy to be part of his family.

Other Spaces

2009-01-15T13:22:00.001-08:00

Other Spaces at Christ of the Desert

Visitors to Christ of the Desert Monastery are invited to a place of immense quiet and spiritual formation. Its buildings are constructed of adobe covered straw bales with both their interior and exterior spaces filled with silence. You will not hear a radio, television, or any electronic noise while visiting. There are places and times for talking, enough that a person physically experiences the silence, but does not feel alienated from sound. Meals are taken in silence, but the space is filled with the voice of the reader or of music (not Chant). The guest houses are simple accommodations with little more than a bed, desk, chair, and closet; bathrooms are shared and accessed outside one’s room.

A gathering space outside the Refectory fills with monks and visitors after mass, as coffee and cookies provide a natural extension of hospitality and a chance to visit. One wall is filled with a vibrant painting of the face of Christ, it’s reds and burnished gold filling the space. Nearby are offices—the guestmaster, accountant, and more—and the large gift shop. The gift shop is filled with high quality books, music, and gift items of a religious nature; soft music and the smell of polished wood fill the air. One can visit freely here during its hours of operation; it’s a nice chance to converse with one or two of the resident monks.

Behind the closed doors are those spaces private to the monks. The kitchen and laundry rooms are large, well-appointed, and a reminder that this is a great big family with a lot of guests. A library, study tables, gathering room (a conference room without a table), recreation room, and cloistered cells provide the private space of daily life. They work in other buildings making sandals and ale, which are sold to support their community.

Church at Christ of the Desert

2009-01-15T13:13:00.001-08:00

The Church

“In America there is no monastic foundation which has found so perfect a desert setting as that of the Chama Canyon, in New Mexico, where the small Benedictine Monastery of Christ in the Desert now stands. “ –Thomas Merton, 1968.

The Monastery emerges at the end of a 13 mile dirt road, dissolving into the rock and brush of the canyon. The buildings appear deceptively simple, in red adobe to match the red rock spires of the surrounding outcroppings. The Church, designed by Japanese architect George Nakashima, fits starkly into soaring rocks but remains the stately center of monastic life at this magnificent place. Its soaring clerestory windows capture views of light, blue sky, red rocks, and sometimes the birds circling on thermals with wind-swept wings.

A few, but precious, religious artifacts adorn the Church’s walls. Mostly, its beauty presses on you from the vaulting clerestory. Local monks had just repainted the sacristy, which holds the consecrated host, and seeks to represent the diversity of the monks living there. The fragrance of incense lingers in the air, and probably permeates the stucco of the walls. A small wood-burning stove keeps the high-desert chill at bay in the area’s cold winter months. Three of its four short wings is filled with chairs: two opposing sides seat the monks, and one side the visitors and pilgrims. A large square altar fills the central space, with lecterns at two corners and an electronic keyboard at a third. Fresh flowers, arranged by one of the Asian monks, graces the space at the altar’s front.

The Church’s front entry is made up of two large, carved doorways. These provide entry for the visitors since monks enter from their quarters at the back. Monasteries have long been places of hospitality and guests are invited to join the monks at any of their prayers, songs, or masses. Programs are provided, along with brief instructions, so that even those complete newcomers will feel at home. Traditional Gregorian Chant at this Monastery is mostly in English, but some masses were completely in Latin (with English translation on the side). The Chant is sung slowly on a single staff, which limits the variety of notes, and generally without harmony. I am told that the harmonic music one finds in some monasteries is Byzantine, but that only the older, more traditional Gregorian Chant is sung at Christ of the Desert. Interestingly, Chant continues to be written here—with specially designed computer programs.

Monastic life is ordered around the eight set times of daily prayer, beginning here at 4 a.m. with Vigils and ending at 7:30 p.m. with Compline. This schedule of prayer is called “The Divine Office” and is interspersed with times of work, study, recreation, and meals to create a designed balance. In addition to the shared, chanted prayers, monks are also expected to spend private time in personal prayer and scripture study. The lifestyle values prayer, silence, simplicity, liturgy, hospitality, community, and care for the poor. In addition to Scripture, it follows the Rules of St. Benedict, laid down in the Sixth Century.

Christ in the Desert

2009-01-15T11:27:00.000-08:00

Christ in the Desert
11/8-9/08

What memories do I bring back from our weekend at Christ in the Desert Monastery? First, some disbelief that Alan can actually have a cousin who is Abbot of a monastery—a cloistered, silent group dedicated to prayer and the ascetic life of monks in the desert. And yet when we met Chet Lawrence, now Abbot Philip Lawrence, he was fun-loving, outgoing, laughed readily, and was so gracious and hospitable. His gray beard flowed down (although not required as a monk—he just found shaving took too much time in the wee morning hours when he arose for prayer at 3:30) and his black habit bloomed around him in generous volumes under his smiling face and above monk sandals.

For me the marked moment came during the singing of the Gloria in Sunday morning’s mass. For those minutes the combination of the beauty of melodic chant, men’s voices reverberating from adobe walls, freshened incense, the blue sky and soaring red rocks visible beyond the vaulting windows created a time unbearable except by tears. I believe God’s presence filled the room that day.

Abbot Philip showed us all through monastery, even behind those doors and beyond those signs marked Private. We saw the laundry room with its pile of black habits, the kitchen, the recreation room (a circle of hard, wood chairs), the library, the reading and computer room, as well as the cloistered cells—even taking us into his own cell. They are simple rooms, all of them, with the cells being rather small and sparse, with a bed, some space for storage, and a personal prayer kneeler. The regular monks have to go outside and down the portico for their bathroom, although the Abbot has the benefit of an attached bath and small office. We saw the hermitages where monks still live in solitude, joining the others only for mass. We saw the solar panels and the mechanicals that keep all the buildings electrified and warm. We joined the monks for lunch and dinner in their ‘refectory,’ a beautiful room with a splendid mural of iconic painting on one end and a huge abstract of stained glass on the other. Meals are taken in silence except for either music or a reader, who reads from a chosen book while all eat (right now they are reading the biography of Mother Teresa). The monks ate fast. I always eat rather slowly, a good thing because it took time to relish the simple yet wonderfully fresh and tasty meals we had. I especially liked the fresh baked bread—especially the loaf they sent home with us!

We stayed in a guest house, with a simple and comfortable room, although with a walk outside to the bathroom. The thick straw bale walls allow deep silence to cover everything. Actually silence is why many people come to the Monastery; they come there for silent retreat. Most go to the prayer times, meals, and linger talking quietly. The 25 extra seats were full for Sunday morning’s mass, but scattered for prayer times (seven prayer times, beginning at 4 a.m. and running at intervals all day until the final one about 7:30, which marks the beginning of the silent night hours). The monks balance their day with 4 hours of prayer, 4 hours of work, and then a schedule of recreation, meals, free time, and reading. It is a most regimented and disciplined schedule possible, but one that orders the lives of those given to the ascetic life.

We enjoyed the times we could visit with the men and learned a bit about them. They represent 8 countries, are considerably younger than many Benedictines, smiled easily and welcomed us graciously. Some had successful professions earlier in life; some escaped abusive families in Catholic boarding schools; some continue their earnest search for God. I still can’t help but wonder what drives them to this life in the desert.
It was a beautiful weekend and a wonderful memory. My prayers will sometimes go up for them, as they asked. I will check their website, read the newsletter, and continue to correspond occasionally with the Abbot. Perhaps, we will make our journey to the desert again someday.