Praying for Haiti

It's been a busy week, and the news of the devastating earthquake in Haiti on Tuesday has taken a while to sink in. My brother was visiting from New York City when the news broke. Then it was off to a two-day staff seminar, and I was out of my NPR-listening, TV-watching routine. Even so, the earthquake was on all of our minds--one of my colleagues has family living in Haiti, and while he knew that his parents were safe, he had yet to hear from his brother.

Until last night, I hadn't seen any coverage of the aftermath. What I saw last night broke my heart.

I traveled to Haiti with a group from my church in December 2002, and rang in 2003 to the accompaniment of the distant beat of voodoo drums in the eastern wilds of that country. It's hard to put into words the experience of Haiti, or to explain to those who have not been there how this earthquake only brings a more extreme version of chaos to what is already indescribably chaotic. The poverty is staggering. But the joy and hope of the people I met was humbling and inspiring.

In this video from our trip, shot and edited by Jeff VanderMolen, friend, team leader and co-founder of Haiti H2O (that's Hope 2 Opportunity), the single quote from me is, embarrassingly, "I haven't cried once, have I?" I've cried plenty for Haiti this week. And I continue to hold on to the hope that God can deliver the suffering people of Haiti from this most recent, and most extreme, tragedy.

Lord have mercy.

***If you are wondering where you might donate money to help the people of Haiti, I strongly encourage you to consider giving to Haiti H2O. Jeff will be leading a small team to Haiti later this month, after the initial response has passed. Click here to find out more. I can vouch for the integrity of this organization and the way they will use these funds. Their overhead is very low, so almost every dollar you give will go directly to helping the earthquake relief effort.

True stories

Tomorrow morning, instead of heading straight to the office, I will detour to my local coffee shop for Book Group. 

Four of us meet every week, at 8am on Friday mornings. We drink coffee, or lattes, mochas, or tea. We eat bagels, or donuts or chocolate chip cookies, or whatever food item we might smuggle in from home to eat with the beverage we purchase. For me, that might be a banana or a granola bar. For others, it might be a hard-boiled egg.

We spend an hour or more catching up with each other, and at least a quarter of the time, we talk about whatever book we've decided to read together. Depending on how much we are enjoying said book, or how far along the slowest reader among us may be in the agreed-upon reading assignment, we may actually talk about it for half, or even three quarters of the time. 

The ratio of book discussion time to overall gathering time depends on several variables, from what other topics of conversation might be more interesting than the book in question to how many friends and acquaintances who are not part of the book group happen to drop by for their respective caffeine fixes. (Who needs Cheers when you can have a cool neighborhood coffee shop?)

Our reading list is very fluid, and very subjective. Over the past few months, we have read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life by Donald Miller, Outliers: The Story of Success by Malcolm Gladwell, The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University by Kevin Roose, and Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. (Confession time: that last one? I didn't finish.)

Tomorrow, we'll be talking about Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy by Gary D. Schmidt. I pretty much read this book, which is marketed primarily to a young adult audience, in 24 hours. I loved it. It's based on a true story, it won a Newbery Honor, and it made me cry.

One of the running jokes among the book group members is my proclivity for memoirs. Whenever it's time for us to figure out what we'll read next, it's a good bet that my wish list will include at least one memoir.

But even if a novel, a "made-up" story, isn't based on a true story, sometimes it rings truer than a so-called non-fiction book. And a memoir may be filled with half-truths and self-delusion.

Something to bring up tomorrow morning at Book Group.

The delinquent blogger

So, I know I used to have a few faithful readers out there in cyberspace. I know this because some of you have pointed out, in one way or another, my blogging delinquency. I wonder if you check in any more? I have been delinquent for a long time.

I’ve been feeling the itch to change that, but as with most things, I’m not really sure where to begin. I need help.

If you are still out there, faithful readers, could you answer a few questions for me?  

   1. Why did you, once upon a time, check in here so faithfully?
   2. If you still do, why? 
   3. What is it you’d like me to write about?

As you can see, I’m looking for a new starting place—a jumping-off point, as it were. Thanks in advance for your help! If you’re still out there… 

(So yeah. This is also an excuse for a social experiment. Is anybody out there? Anyone? Bueller?)

Writing our stories

My book group is currently reading Donald Miller's new book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life. It's the first of his books since Blue Like Jazz that I've picked up, and I'm enjoying it a lot.

When Don spoke a couple of years ago at the CCO's Jubilee conference, he was working on this book. I remember him talking about what makes a good story, and wondering what kinds of stories we are all living. If someone approached you and wanted to make a movie about your life, what would your story look like? Would it be compelling enough to bother making the movie?

That's partly what the new book is about. Last night, I was surfing around online, reading and listening to interviews with Don about his writing. In the process, I found this cool video of Don Miller and Steve Taylor, the filmmaker who approached Don about making a movie based on Blue Like Jazz:

From the Director from Blue Like Jazz The Movie on Vimeo.

I love it. (And I'm also now reminiscing about all of those great 1980s Steve Taylor songs. "This Disco Used to Be a Cute Cathedral"? "Meltdown (at Madame Tussaud's)"? Anyone?)

So, this book is sending me on another memoir-reading binge. Seeing Steve Taylor again is making me nostalgic for my Walkman and my old cassette tapes.

And now I am thinking a lot more about what makes a good story. And how I want to continue, as my blog title suggests, to ask "what must I do to make my life a true story?"

Stay tuned...

Bending Time

I'm checking in after another long absence to share a few links with my faitfhful readers. (Are you still out there?) First of all, here is a link to a fun video shot a little over a week ago, celebrating the 10th anniversary of a local coffeeshop, Tazza D'Oro, where my little book group meets every Friday morning. Representing said book group in the video is my friend Ginger, and you can see my back in a few of the shots (I'm wearing a dark pink shirt).

My friend Katie is now sharing her writing with the world at her new blog, Bending Time. I encourage you to check it out!

And lastly, in light of recent events, is a blog entry by Walt Mueller, President of the Center for Parent/Youth Understanding, reflecting on the recent deaths of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. I appreciate the perspective Walt offers in his post entitled When Celebrity Dies.

Joel's take on Jubilee

My friend Joel's video from Jubilee 2009, with a cameo appearance by yours truly. Enjoy!



Jubilee took place February 13-15, 2009 at the Westin Hotel and Convention Center, Downtown Pittsburgh.

Peace

Your Word is "Peace"

You see life as precious, and you wish everyone was safe, happy, and taken care of. Social justice, human rights, and peace for all nations are all important to you. While you can't stop war, you try to be as calm and compassionate as possible in your everyday life. You promote harmony and cooperation. You're always willing to meet someone a little more than halfway.

What's Your Word?

Five times four

In 1988, I signed a four-year contract with the CCO, and I remember thinking that June 1992 sounded like it would take forever to arrive. Now it's 2008, and I've spent my entire career thus far working in campus ministry. It's very cool that my earlier dreams of working in writing and editing have been useful to the mission of this ministry which has changed so many lives (including my own) for the better.

Here are some reflections which I sent out in my newsletter a couple months ago.

In May, I was recognized for 20 years of working for the CCO. Twenty years. Two decades. Five times my original four-year contract agreement. I guess those who jokingly predicted that I’d be a “lifer” weren’t so far off the mark. Here is an excerpt of what my friend and colleague Ginger Weeber wrote about me on the occasion of my 20-year recognition:

Amy Maczuzak is a fine writer and editor with a dedicated heart for the mission of the CCO. In all of the work that she does, she is committed to serving our organization and staff members, and to furthering our work.

While Amy would have rather started out writing for the CCO, she did not. She came on staff making a four-year commitment as an intern at Geneva College. From Geneva, she took a position as Director of the Kirk House for First Presbyterian Church of the Covenant in Erie, Pennsylvania. Her good work and relationship with Gannon administration helped cement the CCO’s relationship with the university. She also directed the Erie Summer Project, a summer internship/discipleship program for college students from CCO schools. While working at Gannon, Amy had three co-workers, three CCO supervisors, and two pastors in four years. Transition was the theme of those years.

Amy left Gannon to work in the CCO office in a dual position, as Project Administrator for our Training and Jubilee Departments, and as Writer for the Communications Department. Many were the battles for her time because she did both jobs so well. Now she has the privilege of focusing on working in the Communications Department, making sure our constituents understand in a clear and compelling way what makes the CCO tick.

As staff people, we see some of what she does when we receive the staff e-news and On Campus, see our staff profiles on the website, and read press releases for various events. What we don’t see are the hours she puts into polishing those very works, into interviewing former students for the website, into reading staff newsletters for stories to tell our donors, and into helping various staff people edit their newsletters. I am just touching the tip of the iceberg of Amy’s work.

What I enjoy about Amy is her kind heart, her sometimes-acerbic wit, or appreciation of such, her thoughtful way of listening and offering insight into situations or books or events, and that she laughs easily, even at herself. She is one of those people that makes true the statement that “still waters run deep.” Part of what I enjoy about working at the CCO is Amy as well as her good work. I hope she stays with the CCO another 20 years.

I thank Ginger for her kind words, and I thank you for your faithful friendship and support throughout these last two decades. I count it a privilege to do work that I love for a mission in which I believe so strongly—and of which I am a product myself. Thank you for making it possible for me to continue to participate in the work of transforming college students to transform the world.

Find your grail

As I'm watching the 2008 Tony Awards show and craving a trip to Broadway, I feel compelled to share my favorite Tony moment ever: this performance from Spamalot, a musical I hope to someday see in person. Enjoy!

Faith and writing

What a wonderful, life-giving day it's been here at Calvin College. Day one of the Festival of Faith & Writing has drawn to a close...well, for me it has, anyway. I think there are still some activities happening back on campus, including a Caedmon's Call concert, a showing of the film version of Katherine Paterson's Bridge to Terabithia, an a poetry reading. I'm happy to be unwinding and digesting the sessions I did attend today, and am ready for a good night's sleep before a full day of sessions tomorrow.

Besides hearing inspiring messages from likes of Mary Gordon, Mischa Berlinski (whose novel Fieldwork has now been added to my must-read list), Mary Karr (whose memoirs The Liar's Club and Cherry I purchased immediately after), and Michael Chabon, I ran into several friends and acquaintances, in this order: Margie Haack, Kirstin Vander Giessen-Reitsma (editor of catapult magazine), Gregory Wolfe (editor of Image: A Journal of the Arts and Religion), Denise Frame Harlan, Erica Young, Lew Klatt, Dennis Dean and Tom McWhertor. I saw Gail and Andrew Heffner from a distance, and I imagine there will be more sightings, and hopefully opportunities to interact, with many of these folks and more tomorrow and Saturday.

If you're interested in reading more about what's happening this weekend at Calvin College, check out these three live blogs: Thoughts on faith and writing, Rebelling Against Indifference, and I've Only Been Wrong Twice. Enjoy!

Festival time!

It's Festival time again, and the road trip from Pennsylvania to Michigan is behind us. (Whew!) My friend Renee and I are settled into our hotel room, enjoying the free wireless connection and listening to Nightline's coverage of the Hillary Clinton/Barack Obama debate in Philadelphia earlier tonight and the Pope's U.S. visit.

This will be my sixth Festival of Faith & Writing at Calvin College, and I'm so glad to be back this year. I first attended in 1996, when the conference was much smaller, and I was thrilled at the opportunity to see and hear Madeleine L'Engle and Annie Dillard in person. I've only ever missed one festival since, in 2006, when my mom was battling cancer. I've loved every conference I've attended, and enjoyed hearing from authors like Anne Lamott, David James Duncan, Lee Smith, James McBride, Lauren Winner, Luci Shaw, Katherine Paterson, Barbara Brown Taylor, and so many more. It's a blessing to be back.

Let the Festival begin!

Benediction

Last night, I joined several fellow members of my church community for an evening of prayer. We spent a couple of hours praying for our world, for our nation, our state, our city, our neighborhoods, our church family and each other. We sang and we prayed — silently, out loud, in a chorus (all praying aloud at the same time), in small groups, as a large group. And at the end of our time, we stood in the center of the sanctuary, holding hands as Carmen gave the benediction, which she read from Eugene Peterson's translation of the Bible, The Message.

Here is what Carmen read:

So let's go outside, where Jesus is, where the action is—not trying to be privileged insiders, but taking our share in the abuse of Jesus. This "insider world" is not our home. We have our eyes peeled for the City about to come. Let's take our place outside with Jesus, no longer pouring out the sacrificial blood of animals but pouring out sacrificial praises from our lips to God in Jesus' name.

Make sure you don't take things for granted and go slack in working for the common good; share what you have with others. God takes particular pleasure in acts of worship—a different kind of "sacrifice"—that take place in kitchen and workplace and on the streets. —Hebrews 13:13-16

April Foolin': Movies an' 'at

I got a voice mail from an old friend yesterday basically daring me to blog again, and since she and my friend Lisa have started this little game, I thought this might be a good way to get back into it. (Another friend has been encouraging me to write more in general, and since she obliges when I make similar requests, I'm going to try. Really.)

But for now, here’s the deal:

1. Pick 10 of your favorite movies.
2. Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them on your blog for everyone to guess.
4. Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie.
5. Looking them up is cheating, please don’t.

Have fun!

Ed. note (4/16/08): Thanks and congrats to Lisa, Sheryl and TG for playing along. Time now to identify the rest of the quotes, for you readers who have been dying to know...

1. “Whoopsidaisies. It's a disease I've got. It's a clinical thing. I'm taking pills and having injections. It won't last long.” TG got this one right—"Notting Hill." Great chick flick.

2. “…when you're attracted to someone, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as fate is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match.” Sleepless in Seattle

3. “Oh, but ‘baby fish mouth’ is sweeping the nation?” Lisa got it right! "When Harry Met Sally"

4. “You're born into a family. You do not join them like you do the Marines.” While You Were Sleeping

5. “If some lives form a perfect circle, others take shape in ways we cannot predict or always understand.” Lisa got this one, too: "Message in a Bottle"

6. “I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed.” Sheryl got it! "The Princess Bride"

7. “We're not laughing at you—we're laughing near you.” Dead Poets Society

8. “…is it to be at every meal, or merely at dinnertime, that you intend on leading us all through this rare and wonderful new world of... indigestion?” The Sound of Music

9. “Why do I have to be the responsible grown-up who worries? Why can't I be the cute, carefree Irish guy who sings all the time?” P.S. I Love You

10. “In a conspiracy like this, you build from the outer edges and go step by step. If you shoot too high and miss, everybody feels more secure. You've put the investigation back months.” All the President's Men

A wonderful life

Dear George —
Remember no man is a failure who has friends.
Thanks for the wings!
Love,
Clarence

It is, indeed, a wonderful life. Merry Christmas, dear friends!

The Legacy of the Kirk House

This afternoon, I had a great conversation with one of my CCO colleagues. It started as an interview for an upcoming On Campus magazine feature but drifted into other areas as well: calling and vocation, how God works through us and in spite of us, the struggle to discern whether what we're doing is making a difference at all.

I was reminded of this article that I wrote four years ago about my years doing campus ministry in Erie. I promised to send her the article. I'll share it here as well. —alm
--------------------------------------

November 2003

I received a letter a couple of weeks ago from new CCO staff member, Lindsey Smyth. The return address on the envelope was a familiar one to me: 627 Myrtle Street, Erie, Pennsylvania.

"The past four months have been absolutely incredible," Lindsey writes. "I have learned so much about trusting God and diving head first into ministry with Gannon University students." She goes on to describe her experience at Summer Training, her first weeks in Erie, what it's like to co-direct a discipleship house and to be an ambassador of First Presbyterian Church of the Covenant to Gannon students. She writes about the privilege it is to be recognized as an official campus minister by Gannon's Catholic campus ministry office. She talks about her gratitude for the supporters who make her work possible and about how much God is teaching her through the students with whom she lives and works.

I flip the letter over and examine the photos that she's included. There's a picture of the residents of the Kirk House, of Lindsey with her CCO colleagues at Gannon (Sam Van Eman and co-director RC Griffin), of Lindsey with the women in her Bible study. All but one picture was taken within the walls of the Kirk House. Aside from the faces and the furniture (go figure — at some point over the past decade, they've had to replace a couch or two), these snapshots could have come out of my own photo albums. The place looks comfortingly like it did in 1989 when I first moved in.

But it's not the same. Praise God, several generations of Gannon students (and Kirk House directors) have passed through those familiar doors since I moved out of my basement bedroom at 627 Myrtle Street a decade ago. Countless students have gathered there for dinners, for parties and for Bible studies. Some have lived there and others have just visited, but I venture to guess that all have been changed in some small way by encountering Jesus Christ and his body in that sacred space.

I've been in a unique position these last ten years. Even after leaving the Kirk House and Gannon to move into my work at CCO's Pittsburgh headquarters, I've had the privilege of getting to know, in various degrees, subsequent Kirk House directors and to call them my colleagues. Since those four years during which I worked with Eugene, Dave, Jeff and Ty, the baton has been passed to and from Marleta, Jason, Tara, Julie, Sam, Jessica, Clint, RC and now, Lindsey. And that doesn't include the many directors who preceded my years there. It's amazing to realize that the CCO has had a presence at Gannon University through the Kirk House ministry since 1973.

My tenure at the Kirk House was rocky, to say the least. I worked with four co-directors in those four years. When I showed up in Erie, two student residents of the previous year's community had been evicted, and the ripple effect of that controversial decision was felt throughout my first year. Gannon University's campus was unlike any I'd ever encountered up close. Instead of the contained, small-town feel of Geneva College — or my alma mater, Allegheny College — Gannon buildings were interspersed with, and sometimes indistinguishable from, others in downtown Erie. At that time, there were no welcoming student-center-like hang-out spots on campus where I could naturally meet students. It was startling, to say the least, the first time I visited the freshman women's residence hall…right across the street from the prison.

Then there was the whole Catholic/Protestant thing. I'd gone from being a student at a nominally Methodist-affiliated school to my intern year within the conservative Evangelical subculture at Geneva College. Now I was entering a whole new parallel universe. Many of the students I initially met at Gannon had attended Catholic schools all their lives and now had chosen to attend a Catholic university. And many of the Protestant students I met had been raised to distrust the Catholic Church and all that it stood for.

The relationship between Kirk House directors and Gannon's campus ministry office had a somewhat tenuous history as well, with levels of trust and connection pretty low over the years. As always, God's timing was amazing. Even in the midst of interpersonal strife within the Kirk House, the initial rapid turnover of male directors (which became challenging not to take personally!), and my overarching insecurity about what it meant to "reach out" on campus, a spirit of unity and ecumenism was nurtured between Gannon staff and Church of the Covenant employees. (It still thrills me to realize that Sam Van Eman now has a cooperative partnership directly with Gannon University!)

My friend and Gannon colleague, Renée, and I became fast friends. Together, we identified language barriers between our respective traditions and sought to overcome them. I audited a class, taught by an ecumenically-minded priest, called "Catholic Traditions." By my last year at the Kirk House, I often found myself in the surprising position of defender — or, at least, interpreter — of the Catholic faith to suspicious Protestant students. (Although I never did figure out how to succinctly answer the most frequently asked question which Catholic students would pose to me: "So, what do Protestants believe about ___?") I'd feel a sort of linguistic whiplash when catching up with my CCO colleagues at staff seminars — such was the uniqueness of my particular ministry setting.

By the time I left Erie, I was a different person. Stretched and pushed and pulled in my understanding of the depth and breadth of God's Kingdom, I found myself open to learning from people different from myself — culturally and otherwise. So great became my appreciation of the liturgy of the Catholic mass, I fully expected to join an Episcopal congregation when I moved to Pittsburgh. (Much to my surprise, I instead found myself attracted to the small, inner-city, interracial, Presbyterian-but-feels-more-like-Baptist Friendship Community Church. That's a story for another time, but with the same theme of God pushing, pulling and stretching me to become a more faithful, well-rounded disciple.)

I'm not sure how many years have gone by since I last climbed the front steps of the Kirk House, or worshiped at First Church of the Covenant, or hung out in the Gannon campus ministry offices. Every time I visit friends in Erie, I try to find time to drive through Gannon's campus, down Seventh Street, past the church. I hang a right onto Myrtle Street, craning my neck to see if the Kirk House still looks the same. It does.

This article was originally published in November 2003. Copyright Coalition for Christian Outreach, 2003.

Dignity & distractions

"The thing I remember most about you is that you always had dignity."

As compliments go, this one seems like a pretty high one. Especially when you consider that the person remembering this about me hasn't seen me since shortly after my 21st birthday, which is, strictly speaking, two decades ago.

Apparently, Joe was in a nostalgic frame of mind when he started typing old college friends' names into Google. (He either has a great memory about spelling, or some accurate source that helped him correctly spell my surname.) A year behind me at Allegheny College, Joe transferred out during my senior year, and as far as my middle-aged self can recall, we haven't been in touch since November 1987. What a great surprise, and welcome distraction, to receive his email when I came in to office on October 18th, the day after the one-year anniversary of my mother's death.

It's amazing to me that a full year has passed already. Thanks to the prayers and sensitivity of many good friends, the milestone wasn't nearly as painful as I expected it might be. A huge arrangement of mums left with a card on my front porch that day moved me to tears; I had no idea that Bryan and Sarah had remembered, and I was so touched by their thoughtfulness. Gestures like that, time with my dad, brother and niece, and a busy schedule helped me to move through the anniversaries of her death, her funeral, and what would have been her 66th birthday (October 24) with relative ease. God is good.

Another distraction has been the new addition to my household: Charlotte the kitten, rescued at age four months (ish) and delivered to me all the way from Philadelphia by Dr. Meredith, my cousin the veterinarian. Be careful what you say while lounging on the beach. Thanks to a casual mention back in July, when were in the Outer Banks together, that I'd been thinking about adopting a cat, I received an email about a month later with news of a little gray tiger-striped tabby kitten in need of a good home. As I type, my affectionate little companion is stretched out next to me on the couch, purring away.

It's been a full several weeks since my last blog entry. In September, I cashed in my 2006 Christmas gift from my dad: an amazing two-week vacation and visit with friends in Ireland, where I also got to celebrate my 41st birthday. It was a reunion of college roommates, as Myrna and I traveled over to visit with Christine, Brian, and their two beautiful children.

Two weeks later, I was privileged to celebrate my dear friend Hank's wedding to Renee, and to serve communion during the worship service. It was an amazing celebration, a wonderful reunion with many old friends, and a privilege to be the one to serve the body of Christ to the bride, the groom, and their two sons, from Renee's first marriage.

So, all in all, life is good. Joe is hoping to travel to western Pennsylvania sometime in the not-too-distant future from his home in northern New Jersey, to visit the city of his birth and reconnect with old friends. Pitt basketball season is about to start (woohoo!), and I am enjoying my favorite season of them all: the autumn leaves are just reaching their peak.

Thanks to those of you who faithfully check in here from time to time, in spite of my abysmal writing record of late. I'll try to do better.

Return to the Outer Banks

It's mid-August already. I seem to recall promising more reflections on Reunion Season. So many thoughts, so scattered.

It started with the campus ministry/Gannon reunion in Erie back in June, which I've already covered.

It continued in July with the Return to the Outer Banks. The first vacation since losing Mom was a good one, largely because of the comfort of being with family, both immediate and extended. There were more than 40 of us gathered at the Cavalier Motel, which for better or worse is little changed since our first excursion there circa 1975. I think the euphemistic terminology would be "vintage." New carpeting, pleather furniture and new bedspreads were the most obvious physical improvements. The beloved wooden Adirondack chairs have been replaced by plastic ones, largely due to wood-rot, I'm told.

Sigh.

My immediate family hadn't joined in the annual beach reunion since 1999, by our best guestimates: the Year of the Sea Lice. It was a particularly hot, breezeless week at the beach, and the ocean was unswimmable due to the biting baby jellyfish. Good times. Mom declared emphatically that this was it for her...we could all return if we wanted to, but she was done with beach vacations. Oddly, my memory of that declaration made it more bearable to me that we were there without her, for the first time.

As we sat pool-side one breezy evening, my cousin Tom commented, "We grew up here together, didn't we?" I was just shy of nine years old in 1975, the first year we went down to Kill Devil Hills for the week. Given the number of times I've moved over the past 40 years, it's safe to say that the Cavalier is as steady a geographical touchpoint as any for me. And long absences between visits make it that much more remarkable to watch the cousins with whom I played and hung out through so many summers now build sandcastles and body-surf with their kids, some of whom are already older than I was that first summer.

Part three of Reunion Season would be the almost-annual Chautauqua gathering in August: a reunion of college/campus ministry friends. That account will have to wait for another time, but I'll do what I can to make it sooner than later. Really.

Meanwhile, I've been enjoying lots of mini-reunions throughout the summer. An overnight visit with Ann and Patrick in Virginia on my way to the beach. A spontaneous day-long rendezvous in Erie with Renee the last Saturday in July. Dinner and ice cream with Jeff, a good friend from Allegheny days, as he passed through town a couple weeks ago. And now I'm looking forward to a reunion with Katie, Dan and family tomorrow. Kate was at the Gannon gathering in June with two of her three little ones. Tomorrow, the whole family travels from Cleveland to Pittsburgh to spend the day at the zoo, followed by dinner with Amy.

Long live reunions!

Taylor the Latte Boy

Here is Kristin Chenoweth from an appearance on The Rosie O'Donnell Show a few years ago. I'm posting it here because it makes me happy. Enjoy!

Reunions

This seems to be the season for them.

This past weekend, I was in Erie, reconnecting with people from what feels like another lifetime. This coming weekend, I'll drive south, to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, to spend a week at the beach with my dad, my brother, my niece, and uncles, aunts and cousins I've known all my life — but hardly know at all in some ways.

I'll save the Nag's Head reflections for later — after I've been back at the vacation spot of my childhood and teen years and taken inventory of how it and I have changed over the past (gulp) 30 years or so.

For now, let's return to Erie.

On Sunday morning, I drove north from Pittsburgh on I-79, not stopping until after the highway did. I arrived at Gannon's Chapel at the corner of Peach and 5th just before mass started at noon, and when I walked inside, I was greeted by former colleagues, long-ago graduated students who were involved in campus ministry back in the day, and even a former boyfriend and his wife and three beautiful children.

"Back in the day" would be circa 1989-93, which were my years as the Protestant Campus Minister at this Roman Catholic diocesan university along the shores of Lake Erie.

I lived in Erie for four years, and they were years of profound self-discovery, growth and humility for me. I was a year out of college when I moved into the Kirk House to do campus ministry at Gannon University. When I moved to Pittsburgh in 1993, I was as a changed person as when I'd graduated from college five years earlier, but the changes were more challenging in many ways the ones I'd undergone as a student. It was a good experience for me to be at Gannon. I was a minority there. I had to figure out how to work as an employee of an evangelical college ministry para-church organization in cooperation with a mainline Presbyterian church, with students and staff at a Roman Catholic institution.

There's too much to write about all of that— far more than I have time or space to articulate at the moment. Suffice to say, I don't like change as a rule, but I recognize it as necessary, and even desirable — especially when it's over and done and I can look back fondly and forget the pain that came in the midst of the process.

Back to reunions.

I got to watch the giggly freshmen and sophomores I knew all those years ago shepherd their children between the picnic tables, bathhouse and beach (that is, Beach 11 at Presque Isle State Park). As I commented to Katie, the mommies they've become are so intricately connected to the essence of their college student personas. There was a comforting continuity and recognition in seeing their humor and care expressed to their offspring, much as it was to each other when they were just figuring out who they are. And these children are delightful, and blessed to have such loving, caring, faith-filled parents.

Sheryl and TG have both reflected on the day's events beautifully on their own blogs. (TG — you certainly DO rock the orange flip-flops!) It was a gift to see students who have become friends, but who live too far away to make regular contact probable. Some of them, I've seen as recently as two weeks or six years ago. Others, not since they graduated 15 years ago. Most drove in from such far-flung locations as Pittsburgh, Cleveland and Buffalo — the Erie Triangle. Sheryl trekked all the way north from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

As always after a reunion like this, I am grateful for the gift of time and space to reconnect with people who were once-upon-a-time so integral to my daily life, and who have, whether they know it or not, contributed to making me the person I am today. I'm already looking forward to next year's reunion, and to reconnecting with those who weren't able to make it this year.

Reunion Season continues...

Flowering memories

It's been my favorite kind of Memorial Day holiday so far. I slept late, I enjoyed my coffee while lounging in front of mindless, late-morning TV, and read the newspaper. I'm heading out to Dad's in a little while to enjoy some family time. My youngest brother is in from New York City this week, and my niece finishes up school on Friday; Saturday, she heads south to spend the summer with her mom. We haven't all been together since Christmas.

Yesterday, we enjoyed a mini family reunion down in Bentleyville at Uncle Paul's and Aunt Barb's, and got to visit Mom's grave on the way there. My brothers and Dad got to the cemetery earlier than I was able to, and had planted marigolds at Mom's grave, as well as next to Grandma and Grandpa Hamilton's. I must have just missed them, so this was my first visit to Mom's graveside by myself. It was weirdly emotional and odd at the same time. I'm glad there is a grave to visit, but at the same time, I know she isn't really there. It's very strange.

My friend Peggar came over a little while ago with extra flowers from her own weekend gardening. She planted them for me in the pots in my front yard and back deck. Mom is the one who shopped for those planters with me years ago, and she's the one who first helped me put flowers in.

Mom loved her flowers, and I enjoy them, too, but I clearly did not inherit her farmer's daughter's green thumb. The farmer's granddaughter is hopeless at keeping plants alive. I resolve to try harder this summer not to neglect or over-water these flowers.

The flowers on her grave, in my planters, and in the flower beds at Dad's are all blooming in tribute to my mother. But even after those flowers wilt, her memory will live on. Thank God.

Happy Memorial Day.