24 Hours in Almaden

Last weekend the Congregational Church of Almaden Valley (formerly Almaden Valley United Church of Christ) celebrated its 60th Anniversary.  This is the church that called me to be its minister in 1999.  It is the first church I served as a called minister.  Being called by a congregational vote a big deal in the ministry.  I was ordained because I had a call to this particular church.  I was their first called female pastor as well.  I remember being very excited because I thought that the fact there were two churches sharing the building, sharing a music minister, and sharing Sunday School meant I’d have a close colleague and even though each of us would serve our own congregation we would support and help each other.  It didn’t work out that way.   I also didn’t realize then how the 61 mile commute down the busiest freeway corridor in the Bay Area would eventually wear me down.  I was full of hope, excitement and Spirit as I began.  It turned out to be the hardest thing I’d ever done partly because it was my first job in a new and challenging profession. The most difficult challenge was the Rector of the Episcopal Church we shared the building with who turned out to be a cruel and mean-spirited misogynist who undermined me at every turn.  Nevertheless, the Spirit was active in the Church and our church began to heal and grow.  And thankfully he left after I’d been there three years.  There were very many wonderful people I grew to love very much.  After nearly 5 1/2 years, when I left,  the church was in good shape and I had developed a wonderful relationship with the new Rector.  

Going back several times last year to preach for the first time in the twenty years since I left, there was only love remaining—-in my heart and in the parishioners who remembered me fondly. I found that greatly affirming.  I said to many, “So it’s true what I preached, love is the strongest most lasting force in the world.”   I was looking forward to going back for this celebration.  I was not disappointed.  It was a wonderful, positive celebration very well attended.  The fellowship hall was all decorated with sparkling lights on the ceiling with sparkles and photos on the dark blue tablecloths from the “good old days.”  The ample food was catered by the Olive Garden.  It was lovely to give and receive so many heartfelt hugs from friends in the congregation.  The highlight of the evening was a long slide show of the church’s history from its humble beginning in the Prune Shed through the many years of trials and tribulations to now.  As Debbie, the longtime moderator and the force behind creating the party and slide show said several times, “we have survived”.  And they have, though the church is very small, it still intact and the Spirit is very present there especially in the four exuberant 5 year old little girls who clearly feel the church is theirs as they ran around the edges of the party squealing and laughing.

Sunday morning, Shelly,  the current minister, and four ministers from the past gathered to lead a celebratory worship service.  We four squished into the front pew facing the church in the round,  rising to sing the hymns and participate in the liturgy then wiggling to get back in place.  I was impressed with the beauty of the liturgy Shelly created and wrote.  Best for me was the communion.  Somehow I ended up serving the kneeling congregants the bread and it reminded me of the many times I’d done that during my years there.  It was always a very joyful and spiritual time.  In the end, as I look back on the years I spent there and remember how I put my heart and soul into my work there, to have nothing remaining but love and gratitude in my heart is the best blessing I can imagine.  

                                                                            

                                                                                

Natural Harmony

I’ve been a journal keeper writing down my thoughts and happenings of my life sporadically.  When I went to seminary, one of the most inspirational and useful courses I took was Creative Writing taught by Pat Schneider.  I took everything she offered.  Through her classes, I began to find my own voice and to trust it.  In February 1997, I attended a week long residential writing retreat up North in Trinidad, California led by Pat.  The house was beautiful and right on the bluff overlooking the ocean.  There were lots of places to hide away  and benches outside all perfect for being alone and writing.  There were nine of us.  Most were younger than me and one particularly interesting participant was a fasting American Indian friend of the owner.  As she and I became buddies, my awareness of the Native population of the area grew. 

This Spring I came across a pamphlet of creative writings from that retreat.  It was serendipitous as this Spring, one of my favorite organizations, Musiacs of the Bay, put out a request in the Bay Area  for 250 word submissions on the topic of Natural Harmonies.  As a long time supporter of this group, I felt called to edit a piece “Morning in Trinidad” that I’d written so many years ago at that retreat and submit it.  Musiacs collects the submissions and circulates them among the composers coming to their August Residency program.   Then each composer chooses one to use as inspiration for their composition which they will write during the weeklong retreat.  When I received notice my submission was chosen by Karna Mendonca, I was thrilled.  Karna is a favorite of mine.  I’ve known him since the beginning of the Musiacs residencies and a love his lyrical pieces.

Yesterday was the concert showcasing the four compositions from this year’s Residency Program.  Each original composition was first presented by the author of the written piece and the composer who briefly speak about what inspired them.  Then the the author read her piece and finally the piece was played by the fabulously talented professionals working with the program.  My writing lead the concert off, the first of four.  It made my very very happy to read it and I was so honored to stand up there with such amazing creative young artists.  It was incredible to hear the lyrical and very complex piece created by Karna played by his piano teacher Eric Zivian and the outstanding violinist Nigel Armstrong.  I could hear the Indians dancing in the complex rhythms and felt the mist rising.  Then after that piece was played, a classical composition that reminded them of the writing was played.  The Third Movement, Andante, from Rachmaninov’s Cello Sonata was chosen for my writing.  I was thrilled and moved to tears because I think it is one of the sweetest most beautiful pieces in the classical repertoire.  It humbles me greatly to think that the powers that be link such a beautiful piece with my writing.  And as an additional joy, Arne surprised us by coming to here the concert and listen to his mother read her composition.   The whole concert was wonderful and very beautiful.  

                                            

Morning in Trinidad by Julie Stokstad

As the fog lifts, I come to a bench on the promontory, sit down and listen.  I hear waves crashing below on the rocky beach.  A raspy bird call startles me out of my reverie.  Another bird calls—-cheep, cheep, cheep—betraying an urgency of life’s longing to make more life.  I hear insects making a sound like a child’s New Year’s noisemaker.  Insects are food for so many of my feathered friends.

Smells hang in the heavy still air.  Smoke tells me my kind are not far away.  A musty smell alerts me that fungi are silently transforming dead things into nutrients so new life can rise up.

Looking overwhelms me.  I stare at the ocean hoping to identify migrating gray whales.  The sea is colorful: dark blue, gray and brown, turquoise and green and white.  Changing trails of color appear then disappear on its surface.  I remember from last night the shimmering paths of moonbeams dancing on the water.

What is so appealing about this place where I sit?  The trees here are large and old, creating their own environment.  Alder, birch and Douglas fir.  Their lichen covered branches bend to touch the grass as if bowed in prayer.  It is a holy place.  I feel the mystery.  My indigenous brothers and sister came here in the past.  Their spirits dance here still.  If I am very quiet, I feel their presence as the dew rises to praise creation.  

                                                

Wonderful Music of Clara and Robert Schumann

 I heard wonderful music this weekend of Clara and Robert Schumann twice, in rehearsal and then in concert .  The first piece was Clara Schumann’s sweetly passionate “Three Romances for Violin and Piano, followed by Robert Schumann’s vibrant and wildly passionate final Piano Trio.  It was another musical high for me thanks to my association with Audrey Vardanega and her non-profit Musiacs of the Bay.  I got invited with Sharona to a rehearsal on Saturday afternoon.  We arrived a bit early and so we walked the block to check out the Emeryville neighborhood where Audrey’s new brand new Musiacs studio is located.  The studio is a very large ground floor room that they think might seat 50.  It has a cement floor they’ve covered with five Oriental rugs to improve the acoustics.  First thing, they found a 1881 9 foot long Steinway piano for Audrey.  They said they got a deal on it.  She said with a big smile on her face, It’s all serendipity”.  Aside from the piano, the place is furnished in early unmatched cast-off chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the piano. Though it looks like something from the early 1900’s, it has the feeling of a place that is up and coming.  When the violinist played the first sweet note with a perfect tone, I knew we were in for a treat.  Alexi’s tone is fabulous and of course Audrey’s piano playing was perfection itself and Tanya’s cello playing is well known and loved around the Bay Area.   The sound in the studio is incredible.  When the Piano Trio began, the sound was upped several notches.  The piece is very demanding with many really fast parts, incredibly complex conversations between the instruments and very much power.  I’d never heard Audrey play anything that demanded so much power and passion.   The final movement was noted as “Powerful, with humor.”  Sitting there, among only ten other people next to my friend and with Audrey’s parents on either side of us, I knew it was an honor to hear this inauguration of this special studio.  The sound was amazing.  It seemed like I was feeling the music in addition to just hearing it.  As it filled the space, it filled me.  I’ll never forget this special time.  The actual concert the next day was for me a let down.  While it was good to hear it again so I could focus on different parts, like trying to hear humor in the last movement, the sound just wasn’t as good.   Nevertheless, they received a standing ovation with wild cheering.   It was truly great  music played by fabulous world-class musicians right here a mile from our house.  How wonderful is that!!!!

                                                                        

                                            

Ikebana

 A lovely gentle lady at church has been studying Ikebana for a year or so.  Her beautiful flower arrangements have begun to appear in the entrance way at church something of beauty greeting us as we come in each Sunday. She recently organized a workshop for any interested folks at church with her teacher.  I was interested and excited by the possibility to learn something of this Japanese art of flower arranging and so I signed up.  

We received an email telling us to bring scissors, some flowers, a vase and a frog (a spiked pad to stick the flower stems into).  So Friday afternoon, I went into my garden and picked a couple of bent over sunflowers and a couple of small red dahlias.  They were a little rangy and wild from the hot week before.  I brought a piece of Japanese lacquerware I have and a footed hand made bowl I had stuffed into the back of a cupboard. 

Arriving in the room, I immediately sensed a feeling of peace.  The room was pleasantly cool on the hot Friday afternoon.  Voices seemed hushed.  The teacher, Meno, was by the door and very friendly.  Just at 1 pm, she began telling us the history of Ikebana and how the name means in Japanese “Flower Arranging.”  It is an old disciple that takes a lifetime to learn.  It was only after World War II in Japan that women were even allowed to study this.  She has studied it for a long time.  Even though I was sitting in the front as close as I could get to her, I had real trouble hearing her very soft voice.  Some of the fragments I heard were that this is a way of appreciating nature.  It’s not about the flowers being perfect but rather being representative of their natural state and season.  It would be wrong to use camellias for example in the summer.  Then she began to make an arrangement.  I loved how she studied the leaves, massaged them before she put them in.  She studied each addition for balance and placement.  I felt that she became spiritually very open to the flowers showing their natural beauty.  It isn’t about their perfection as much as it is finding their right place to create balance.  I noticed she used three blossoms in each arrangement.  I loved her concentration and what she created.  The three arrangements were very different, but each was incredibly beautiful looked at from the front, the sides and the back.  Then she announced, “I am finished.”  

We then turned to our flowers and began to arrange them and she went around to help us.  After we had done our very best, she would come as consider our arrangement and with very few changes make it beautiful.  She added a cluster of purple needle grass leaves to my two sunflowers balancing the arrangement perfectly.  She worked tirelessly until each of us had something beautiful.  I was awed by her generosity and hard work. 

Chieko, the church member that organized this, had brought a table full of delicious snacks for us: homemade oatmeal cookies, brownies, a jelly with fruit in it, Japanese chocolates and a beautiful bowl full of dark purple cherries.  It made me feel very special.  And then promptly at 3 pm, it was over.  And we all left, feeling we had been part of something very special.  I am excited to now keep an Ikebana arrangement from my beautiful new garden flowers in my house.      

                                                                                                                 

                                                            

                                                                            

A Week of Sister Time at the Beach

 I flew down to John Wayne Airport last week to spend a week with my sister.  Kate spends part of her summer in her son’s house on Balboa Island.  It is a place full of with memories from our childhood years.  Growing up, we went to Balboa every summer for at least a month.  Our grandparents, Mama and Papa Rolfe, retired to Balboa Island in their later years..  I made many new memories during this trip South.

First and foremost was hanging out with my sister and her little fluffy dog Maddy.  Maddy seemed confused by my presence.  She’d sit and look back and forth at Kate and me.  She’d always sit by me at the table (knowing I supposed I’d sneak her a tiny tidbit).  Kate and I spent every morning sitting side by side in the soft blue lounge chairs on the patio reading and napping.  It was a quiet and very comfortable time.  One chair was in the sun, the other in the shade, we’d trade places when one of us got too hot or too cool.  I loved feeling the wafting gentle ocean breezes on my face.  Neighbors came by and chatted as we sat outside.  It was very chummy.  We watched the boats go by on the Bay at the end of the street.  I got soooo relaxed!

I also loved walking around the Island, a comfortable mile and half..  We both went on my first walk around the Little Island.  Half way around, Maddy flopped down and wouldn’t walk another step, so Kate had to carry her all the way back.  After that, I did  my morning and evening walks on the sandy wide sidewalk by the Bay alone.  I varied the route such as I could just for interest. I enjoyed taking photos of beautiful flowers and sailboats and funny things like the two big poodles with their fur dyed with lines and circles like a giraffe or zebra riding on a paddle board.  I watched Mr. Sandman build one of his  giant sandcastles at the beach at the end of the street.  One day, I went over to the Ocean on the car ferry that hasn’t changed since I was a girl.  I walked past the honky tonk Fun Zone and out on Balboa Pier where I got a soft ice cream cone and ate it watching the body surfers ride waves to shore.    

We ate fresh tuna four nights in a row.  Her neighbor Matt caught a 35 pound tuna and shared a piece with us.  Then Scott, the contractor who lives now in the back apartment, gave us a bigger piece.  It was so firm and fresh and never smelled fishy at all.  It was absolutely delicious and a real treat.  

We didn’t go places off the Island this time.  In fact in the whole week, I only got in the car once, to go get our nails done just across the bridge.  It was a peaceful, very relaxing time and I am grateful I could spend time with my sister in such a beautiful place.