Oh, me-oh-my-oh! Look at Ohio!

I was on a phone call with my Grandmother this summer and she said something that disturbed me. I had mentioned the day's plans to go golfing with my cousin, Mike, and she said, "So you'd rather go golfing than come see your old Grandma!" I think it was supposed to be a joke, but it hit hard, and it occurred to me that since moving away to college nine years ago I've only ever gone to see her and Grandpa for family reunions. There's something special about making a trip specifically to see someone, and as an adult (i think?) I now have the means and time to make this happen. So Lori, Dane, and I drove ten hours through mountains, rolling hills, and suburban sprawl to snow-covered Cleveland to stay for the night with cousin Mike and Other Lori (long story) before heading to church Sunday morning with G'ma and G'pa. The East Chippewa Church of the Brethren welcomed us with typical farmville charm. We were introduced to the congregation by my Uncle Dave, who sings in the choir with his wife, Cresanne. I felt proud to be there with my brother and to be introduced to people that knew who I was despite my never having met them. But most of all I was proud to have brought such joy to my Grandparents, who had obviously been looking forward to our visit. Back to the farmville charm; a ragtag horn section played Amazing Grace, the choir had two microphones quite fittingly positioned in front of the two loudest ladies in the choir, so it was nice when just the men sang, and the smell of casseroles wafted through the pews. The sermon was about money. A good portion of the New Testament deals with money, and the minister took us through his interpretation of what God thinks about wealth, money, power, and greed. Obviously much of the rhetoric focuses on how the human desire for money and wealth is one of the premiere weaknesses of the flesh, but he ended the sermon with a recollection of how good it could feel to give money to God in the form of a tithing. He told of a moment in his life when he felt like he had lost his connection with God, and that just reaching into his pocket to pull out a check had reminded him of his commitment to worship despite hardship and doubt. After the service the seven of us went out to eat and had a blast, Cresanne grilling Lori on her dreams and intentions as a new part of our family, me asking Grandpa religious questions that took way too long to answer but were fascinating just the same. And Grandma and Grandpa paid for our meal. This completely blew me away. Throughout their entire working lives, they never collectively made more than 18,000 dollars a year, and somehow they were able to raise six boys, providing love and support in non-financial ways. They have no savings and live off their social security, yet they made a point to show us how proud they are of us for our volunteer service and how thankful they were that we had come to see them. And they said it all with a twenty-dollar bill. I used to have a problem accepting money from family and friends, thinking that somehow there was strength in being able to pay for things and pay for other people. Don't get me wrong, I still took the money! But I felt guilt surrounding a seeming inability to fend for myself in the big, bad, world. I realize now that having family and friends is a blessing, and if they feel compelled to help me on my journey I should be thankful for their kindness rather than having angst about my own financial woes. So as we made the beautiful drive back down to North Carolina in a car that was gifted to us, filling up with a credit card that my parents agreed to pay, eating food that was bought on the CooperRiis dime, it suddenly occurred to me that nothing in this life is mine. Even my life is not my own. Sure, I'm in control most of the time, but no matter how much money, power, talent, or love I have it can all be taken away in an instant, and what will I have then? Just God.

One Hand, One Heart

This week's visit with the Almighty did not take place on a Sunday, or in a church, but it was a religious service just the same. Two friends from the CooperRiis community were joined in holy matrimony this past Saturday on a sunny, autumn afternoon with the Blue Ridge Mountains serving as a backdrop. The couple met as lodge advisors for CooperRiis, the healing farm for which I am currently working. Though they each moved on to other positions on the farm, their allegiance to the lodge advisor crew has not changed, and they were, in fact, the first people to take me out on the town when I arrived in North Carolina. I remember Jeannine asking me about religion and being confused at my answer. "So you're serving as a volunteer for the Brethren Volunteer Service but you're not Brethren, and you grew up Unitarian but you're not Unitarian?" "Exactly!" This is understandably hard to follow. How could someone grow up in a religion that is accepting of anyone's understanding of spirituality and choose to abandon it to pursue his own understanding of spirituality? This is a question I continue to ask myself. Why do I not consider myself Unitarian even though my morals and values align themselves so well with those put forth by Unitarians? It's because I have an innate desire to connect directly with God and I never found that opportunity within the Unitarian faith. Unitarians, in my opinion, are more interested in connecting with their community than connecting directly with God. Since the beginning of my current relationship, I've felt more connected to God and more in touch with my true self than I ever had before. I attribute this to meeting this amazing person that is a true believer in Christ and has the simultaneous ability to look outside of her religion to find different forms of spirituality. I guess I've never really connected with such an open-minded Christian before, and I've certainly never been in love with one. In fact, my travels to CooperRiis have opened my eyes to the well of faith that is present in this part of the country and doesn't necessarily result in close-mindedness. Which brings me back to the wedding. There were multiple prayers, a few Bible verses read, and the entire service was dedicated to a union that would be made in the eyes of God. In short, it was a little too religious for my taste. When I think of what I want my wedding to be, the word that comes to mind is celebration. I want the service itself to be the kickoff to a rockin' good time, a celebration of how beautiful love can be, not just a reminder that God is with us in life and beyond. If God wasn't already on my side, I never would have found the girl I want to marry.