Winter tales
It's been awhile since the last entry so here are some random lessons and thoughts from the past few months. As usual, all names have been changed to protect privacy and all mistakes are mine (hope they are minimal).
In late December, Hun and I had the pleasure to travel to Phillipsburg (near Brenham) to visit the Lutheran church where Hun's dad was pastor in the late 1960s. Here's a picture of the current altar that Hun remembers from his early childhood.
Although the hospital where Hun was born has been long torn down and is several miles from the church, many memories and structures remain, as we're about to discover.
Around midday on Saturday, we drive up the dusty gravel driveway (not the best choice for a 2010 Hyundai Genesis with rear-wheel drive, but hey, we're OK and the brand suits the locale). :)
There are no souls nearby. As we reach the crest and get out, it's sunny but very chilly with brisk hilltop breezes whipping the hillside where a dry and lonesome vineyard awaits Spring on our left side, and, to the right, the modest orange brick church with the back yard pastor's residence but no one is home.
To our good fortune, we're there about 30 minutes and are about to leave when someone driving a Ford F-350 ambles up the driveway toward Genesis. Turns out, it's Greta, a church volunteer and part-time caretaker, who is the kindest heart and best storyteller anyone could ever meet!
She tells us the 1965 remodel was done by two brothers who were paid $10,000 total by a weathy church matron from Brenham so they could finish the work in one summer. Greta is a widow who married her late husband, a farmer, also born in the area to Texas-German immigrants who speak the blended dialect (a very interesting story in itself as you'll see from Hans Boas, associate professor of Germanic Studies at UT-Austin).
Inside the newer community center on the property (c. 2000s), the main meeting area has photos from all congregations dating back to the late 1800s including her husband's childhood, her daughter's class, and Hun's dad as well as two pastors from the mid-1980s who left the church to pursue other interests including a Wall Street career. Tragically, one pastor in a black and white photo from approximately the mid-1940s, lost both his sons to a drowning accident when one tried to rescue the other from a nearby raging creek. Greta is not sure what happened to him or his wife but thinks he continued to preach at their church until his retirement.
As we look out the window, we see a calm meadow with a black dairy cow grazing behind a fence and some rusty light fixtures on poles in the churchyard that Greta says were once a thriving sand volleyball court where they would play as teenagers. Now, this area is mostly some simple portable playground equipment alongside a modest barn fit for a BBQ pit or other picnic purposes.
We also talk about the drought that has been devastating to Texas over the past few years due to wildfires and crop losses. Here's an important lesson that Greta would like to share with anyone who mentions pond conservation. A few months ago, she says a professional company arrives at her door and offers to redo her entire pond with a fancy synthetic liner that will help her to preserve the dwindling water. The offer is tempting since she survives on well water but she politely declines and tells them that her pond has been working fine all these years and, most important, she still has water as they speak. A few months later, she says, all her neighbors who decide to convert their ponds have no more water but she does and she thinks it's because when they dug up the ponds, they took away all the natural clay sediment that was responsible for maintaining the moisture.
As we travel away from Brenham, we talk a lot about Greta and everything she teaches us. In February, I hear some more good advice that will hopefully serve you well in these tense times. It's a Buddhist Loving Kindness sentiment (prayer) courtesy the Austin Unitarian Universalist church pastor, Meg Barnhouse, as well as many ancient traditions. You can find all the Austin UU audio-video sermons here. This works for anyone and I think that's the point. Here's what to do:
First, say these words to yourself, then say them on behalf someone you love, and then say them to someone for whom you hold resentment. I promise you will feel better but don't tell anyone what you're doing. This is loving kindness not a reciprocity burden.
"May you be free from danger. May you be mentally happy. May you be physically happy. May you have ease of well being."
In late December, Hun and I had the pleasure to travel to Phillipsburg (near Brenham) to visit the Lutheran church where Hun's dad was pastor in the late 1960s. Here's a picture of the current altar that Hun remembers from his early childhood.
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| photos by: Hun |
Around midday on Saturday, we drive up the dusty gravel driveway (not the best choice for a 2010 Hyundai Genesis with rear-wheel drive, but hey, we're OK and the brand suits the locale). :)
There are no souls nearby. As we reach the crest and get out, it's sunny but very chilly with brisk hilltop breezes whipping the hillside where a dry and lonesome vineyard awaits Spring on our left side, and, to the right, the modest orange brick church with the back yard pastor's residence but no one is home.
To our good fortune, we're there about 30 minutes and are about to leave when someone driving a Ford F-350 ambles up the driveway toward Genesis. Turns out, it's Greta, a church volunteer and part-time caretaker, who is the kindest heart and best storyteller anyone could ever meet!
She tells us the 1965 remodel was done by two brothers who were paid $10,000 total by a weathy church matron from Brenham so they could finish the work in one summer. Greta is a widow who married her late husband, a farmer, also born in the area to Texas-German immigrants who speak the blended dialect (a very interesting story in itself as you'll see from Hans Boas, associate professor of Germanic Studies at UT-Austin).
Inside the newer community center on the property (c. 2000s), the main meeting area has photos from all congregations dating back to the late 1800s including her husband's childhood, her daughter's class, and Hun's dad as well as two pastors from the mid-1980s who left the church to pursue other interests including a Wall Street career. Tragically, one pastor in a black and white photo from approximately the mid-1940s, lost both his sons to a drowning accident when one tried to rescue the other from a nearby raging creek. Greta is not sure what happened to him or his wife but thinks he continued to preach at their church until his retirement.
As we look out the window, we see a calm meadow with a black dairy cow grazing behind a fence and some rusty light fixtures on poles in the churchyard that Greta says were once a thriving sand volleyball court where they would play as teenagers. Now, this area is mostly some simple portable playground equipment alongside a modest barn fit for a BBQ pit or other picnic purposes.
We also talk about the drought that has been devastating to Texas over the past few years due to wildfires and crop losses. Here's an important lesson that Greta would like to share with anyone who mentions pond conservation. A few months ago, she says a professional company arrives at her door and offers to redo her entire pond with a fancy synthetic liner that will help her to preserve the dwindling water. The offer is tempting since she survives on well water but she politely declines and tells them that her pond has been working fine all these years and, most important, she still has water as they speak. A few months later, she says, all her neighbors who decide to convert their ponds have no more water but she does and she thinks it's because when they dug up the ponds, they took away all the natural clay sediment that was responsible for maintaining the moisture.As we travel away from Brenham, we talk a lot about Greta and everything she teaches us. In February, I hear some more good advice that will hopefully serve you well in these tense times. It's a Buddhist Loving Kindness sentiment (prayer) courtesy the Austin Unitarian Universalist church pastor, Meg Barnhouse, as well as many ancient traditions. You can find all the Austin UU audio-video sermons here. This works for anyone and I think that's the point. Here's what to do:
First, say these words to yourself, then say them on behalf someone you love, and then say them to someone for whom you hold resentment. I promise you will feel better but don't tell anyone what you're doing. This is loving kindness not a reciprocity burden.
"May you be free from danger. May you be mentally happy. May you be physically happy. May you have ease of well being."
