An experience in fostering community

by Pat Laster

About this time of the summer when Kid Billy was seven, I served as choir director at a Presbyterian church. A retreat at Ferncliff Camp in southwestern Pulaski County had been planned for spiritual renewal of the attendees.
The weekend event featured a labyrinth painted (or attached) on the floor of the outdoor pavilion. Each participant was supposed to walk the labyrinth asking two questions: What do I seek? Where goeth this community (church)?

[A little background on the labyrinth: an online source says it dates back to prehistoric times; another says the Middle Ages. One Presbyterian Church’s website says a labyrinth is a path of prayer, a walking meditation, a crucible of change, a watering hole for the spirit and a mirror of the soul.]

In the early morning of the first full day, I left Billy abed—I’d told him the night before I was going to leave him sleeping and that I would leave the door unlocked.

Dr. P. was already on the path and I thought far enough away that it would be safe to begin. I folded my arms under my armpits. Others clasped their hands behind. I tried letting mine hang, but that didn’t feel right.
Walking, I concentrated on the markings on the floor. I didn’t have the freedom to gaze around at the flora as I did while on Feaster Trail in Arkadelphia where we lived.

I was aware of the questions but only in a corner of my mind. I don’t seek more than day-to-day experience. I don’t want to consider any farther than my/our own schedule—practicing the organ before Sunday; how to get Billy to his Papa’s birthday party this afternoon,etc.

As for the direction of this church (the best kept secret in the town), it can raise $73,000 in two or three months, but it won’t—we won’t—set media and attendance records because we won’t—will we?—succumb to the popular, evangelical stream of taped “Christian rock.”

With Bob’s (minister) studied,restrained persona and sermon delivery, folks won’t flock to hear him. And I’m thankful, because in this church setting (sanctuary) there’s a respectful, quiet,and introspective atmosphere, one conducive to worship. (Yes, Debbie, we do read prayers someone else has written.)

I can come closer to communion here—the conversation, the enveloping care of God and his people--than anywhere.

Back to the labyrinth. Sorry, but it didn’t help me center. I was concerned about running into Dr. P., which I did—unaware that the path was not quadrantly graphed; that at several junctures, it wandered into another quadrant. Also, I didn’t realize you had to—at the center—retrace your steps back to the outside.

I (cynically) see this as another fad, like in the schools through the years, something else to try, hoping those who’ve not tuned in to the status quo can barnacle on to one of them for a catchhold--a spiritual rope to keep in touch with God or to find whatever they seek.

What do I seek in this community? A place for Billy to grow, learn, to love and be loved and accepted; to learn the“holy acts.” For me, I seek to act out my thankfulness from the organ, through the organ.

Billy and community. Already today,he’s run to Dr. P, his “surrogate grandpa” with whom he sits in church, with whom he is learning to center, to listen, to sit still during children’ssermons.

Community or village, I’m thankful it is helping me raise Kid Billy.

And I hope the labyrinth experience is a watering hole for the spirit for other walkers. #

c September 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
plpalaster21@gmail.com