A touchstone of sorts

I left the hotel early this morning in order to walk the York Place campus with the camera before the board gathered.  Although I go to York frequently (at least three times per year), I have a tendency to focus solely on the meetings, letting exploration wait until another time, for a visit when I have "more" time -- a chronic tendency, I'm sad to say.

The barn is my favorite building, a central feature of campus and the backdrop to those who live, work and visit York Place.  It isn't perfect, but functional, useful.  I don't know when it was built; I don't know who built it. 

That plain building, simply by standing there, gives me such pleasure.  It's an odd touchstone in my life, and has been for a rather long time -- since before having left South Carolina for seminary in the fall of 1989.  I look for the barn when I turn onto campus, not the adminstration building or the pavilion or the dining hall, but the barn.

Of course, it might reach the end of its usefulness one day.  The plot of earth it stands on might be needed for something else.  That will be OK.  But, if I'm still around, I'll miss it. 

Perseverence

I am home from York and an intense board meeting at York Place. It was intense for a couple of very different reasons. First, I was elected vice-chair of the board (for which I had agreed in advance, by the way). Second, the challenges facing residential treatment centers -- both in the financial arena as well as the effect seemingly capricious legislation at the state level -- were made fully clear through several thorough reports.

The good news, and there is some, comes in the ways York Place is adapting in the face of multifaceted upheaval. Staff is determined; I am optimistic. But, there is work to be done.

The chaplain at York Place, the Rev'd Scott Fleischer, made a presentation to open the meeting. Were I in a ranking mood, I'd give it a ten. While he lives the trials of the institution on a daily basis, he also works closely with children whose outlook on life is severely compromised. The point he made is universal. I know, I'll draw on it for some time.

The focus? The story of Liz Murray of "Homeless to Harvard" fame. A child of drug-addicted parents and living in New York, she found herself homeless at 14, orphaned at 16, beginning high school at 17 and "miraculously" ended up a student at Harvard. Click here to see a YouTube interview with her.

This is the quote that grabbed my attention when I heard it this morning, grabbed me to the point that I had to look it up after arriving home:

Don't look at the people around you who are doing things and think that they are made of something more than you. They've learned some stuff and they're putting it to use. And, they're probably willing to work really hard for it. But, they're not made of anything different than you are. So, don't get psyched out. As long as you're willing to work past the point where you feel you have absolutely nothing left inside you, that's perseverance.

Perseverance doesn't guarantee monumental success. Neither does it level intellectual, financial, educational playing fields. And, it doesn't transform rotten attitudes. But, I think Ms Murray is right. Pushing past what is easy or comfortable or what seems possible will reveal benefits no one can anticipate.

Back to the interstate

The schedule between our paddling adventure in Maine and our departure enroute to Utah's national parks and monuments is tight. Not only do we have a mere ten-day turnaround, but I am committed to a York Place board meeting beginning this afternoon through tomorrow afternoon, requiring an overnight in York; appointments with several directees, mid-week; three nights with my mom at Pawleys Island and the fall retreat at Gravatt for diocesan clergy next Monday through Wednesday.

I am determined not to get all jumpy over it, but clearly we were overly optomistic about what we could accomplish in such a short time. (That "we" needs to be translated, doesn't it? The word "I" would be much more accurate.)

This morning Tal left early with a friend bound for a semi-annual, three-day golf outing at Santee. I've enjoyed several hours of desk and house work, and am ready to set out for York with a stop at All God's Creatures to drop Belle and Whitby off at "camp" for the night.

Complicated, but doable.

Rural driving

Our board meeting this morning at York Place was productive but longer than usual. The economic climate and ever-changing state regulations are having an impact on the census. The administration brought us to to speed on possible strategies they may have to employ to ensure York Place maintains its mission to at-risk children. A trying time to be sure and, although everyone is upbeat, it shows.

My drive home along yesterday's route was again simply lovely and even restorative. The sole challenging stretch was long several miles (life 15) through rolling terrain and along a double-yellow line behind a pickup going, at best, 35MPH. The mirror on the driver's side dangled by its cable; only when an oncoming car approached did the driver lurch to the right from the middle of the road. Welcome to the south, I guess.

Calmness prevailed, but I was grateful for the car's 24V DOHC (whatever that means) controlled by my right foot. When my chance came, I took it! The fuel consumption at such moments something I refuse to consider.

Greetings from York

Today begins the fall meeting of the board of trustees for York Place Episcopal Church Home for Children. I left home after an early lunch with Tal -- who, as I was backing the car out of the garage, shouted from the steps "I hope you retire soon!" So helpful. He was smiling, promise.

The drive was lovely. I opted for cutting cross country, Edgefield to Newberry to Winnsboro to Chester to York with lots of named crossroads along the way. Likely not as fast, but so much more interesting than I-20 and I-77. One day, I keep telling myself, I won't be on my way somewhere, won't be in collar and heels. One day I'll poke along, stopping to study things, like rolled hay in still-green fields and late summer weeds along in-need-of-maintenance fences. I probably won't ever do that, but I do enjoy thinking about it.

Following our afternoon sessions, the president of York Place and his wife welcomed us into their home for dinner. Actually, we had cocktails in their beautifully landscaped backyard, moved through a buffet line in the kitchen and dined on the front porch -- which, wrapping two sides of the house, seated 30 at set tables with white linen, candles and locally grown roses. Truly elegant! Tired as I was I hated to move away, knowing it was a very special experience, one none of us has with any regularity.

I'm at the Days Inn on the Rock Hill side of York for the night. I'd forgotten about the clientelle. The sound of diesel trucks will begin early in the morning, workmen getting a pre-dawn start on the day. How hard people have to work isn't enough part of my awareness, sad to say.

"ah, there you are ..."

That is the way a friend from a former parish oftentimes begins her handwritten, snail-mailed notes. It's as though she's walked into the room in search of me. "Ah, there you are!" she says, and then launches into animated conversation. She's lively in person and her notes are only slightly less so.

I have been missing. I didn't take the month of February off intentionally. That just happened. And, I don't have much to show for the time I've been hidden away, but I think it's been a productive time, nonetheless.

There have been travels. Six days to Virginia (VTS Alumni/ae Executive Committee and Board of Trustees, plus a visit with the Mechanicsville Tarboxes coming and going). An overnight in Clinton SC for the launch of the Episcopal Search Committee. Another overnight in York SC for the York Place board retreat.

There have been several exceptional events. A Superbowl party to which the local NBC affiliate came (yes, to Edgefield of all places!). Lunch at a new restaurant in N Augusta with a friend. A farewell performance of Riverdance in Columbia. The consecration and dedication of the new chapel at the Bishop Gravatt Camp and Conference Center here in the diocese. Takeout pancakes and sausage on Shrove Tuesday.

There have been periods of quiet. And, it is that aspect of the month which is proving most noteworthy. Writing a piece (on desolation) for our diocesan publication, Crosswalk; preparing three meditations (on forgiveness) for a quiet morning I am to lead next weekend; readying myself to enter several photographs in a local gallery in mid-March have required intentional solitude, focused study, determined courage. Long walks more for simply being than for fitness or even for thinking have taken up countless hours.

From outward appearances February was a fallow month. But, I'm old enough and observant enough and appreciative enough of our earth's cycles to know that there's significant growth happening out of sight during the most fallow of times.

I'm back -- and glad.

A postscript: The rains arrived late on Friday and the water continues to fall this afternoon. Almost 48 hours so far. Yesterday some periods of precipitation were so long and intense that the overflow on the pond couldn't handle the water. Fortunately, Tal's son, Bruce, was visiting for the morning and together they widened the spillway in time to save the dam. But, it was close.

The photograph to the left shows our normal route across the spillway and onto the dam. Below is a view of Tal and Bruce at work. You can see in the upper left quadrant where the water had been crossing the dam before they increased the flow through the spillway.

Board membership

At diocesan convention last October I was elected to serve a term on the board of York Place Episcopal Church Home for Children, a residential treatment center jointly owned by the two Episopcal dioceses in South Carolina and located in York SC. Board membership at York Place is a responsbility I welcome, the institution's work challenging and meaningful and its presence a positive one in our state.

Today the president of York Place, John Shiflet, made a trip to Edgefield for a visit, meeting where they live something he does with all new board members. Over a meal at the Old Edgefield Grill he introduced me (and Tal) to board duties, and talked about the challenges the institution faces given today's economic reality and how York Place is planning to weather this difficult time. Mr Shiflet is philosphical about these cycles, having lived through several of them. But, pain is part of the deal -- and he sounds ready to carry on once again.

The board will meet for the first time in this calendar year at the end of February, at which time I will attend an orientation and learn about my committee assignment. I'm ready -- and slightly scared.