Wrap Up

 

Rhododendron

I have one and a half days left in Blowing Rock, so it's time for a photographic wrap up. 

The first thing I noticed when I arrived the beginning of July was the rhododendrons. I thought they bloomed earlier in the year, but a cool spring meant they were still blooming all along the Blue Ridge Parkway and in the towns - everywhere, really - even into the third week of July, in shades of white and pink. The second thing I noticed when I opened the car door was the cool, less humid air. It won't be easy to return to the mid-90s at home.

Mature trees in Arborcrest Gardens

I visited Arborcrest Gardens in Boone twice - once with Katherine, once with Beth. It's open only on Fridays by appointment, and a visit is free.

Can't get enough of those red and pink coneflowers

I had never seen orange alstroemeria 

The garden's design was inspired by Disney World

Beth and I visited Grandfather Mountain one day (I went two days, if you count the synchronized firefly event Katherine and I attended). It was windy and chilly, especially on the swinging bridge, which was indeed swinging in the wind. 

I took a video: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/6UmIvB6h8u8 . You'll have to copy and paste the url.

I am enchanted by tree roots. There are some grandfather trees at Grandfather Mountain.

Cheryl and Beth at Grandfather Mountain

Katherine, Beth, and I also hiked the Glen Burney trail in Blowing Rock, a short, steep down-and-back walk beside a beautiful creek and waterfalls. 

Here's a video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDKBEPCGxYw

Rhododendron blooms above the clear running water at the Glen Burney trail

I feel sure I'll be back. I look pretty happy and relaxed.

Thank you, God, for this gift.

Time Slips Away

 

Eric, Michelle, and I attended a high tea on Saturday in Banner Elk

How quickly time slips past. My mini-Sabbatical is more than half over, and my week of quiet was definitely finished the instant Eric and Michelle stepped through the door on Friday. As much as I love them and love having them with me, it was a relief to hug them good-bye today.

I can’t even guess how many hours I wasted last week (and today, after church) watching Wimbledon. I have managed to get out once a day to walk. I have prayed but not nearly as much as I had hoped.

After being away from home, some things have become more clear to me. I have missed Keith, our children and their families, and our dog Penny (although I’ve spent time with all of them while here). I have missed Massey’s Chapel more than I thought I would. I am itching to be back in the pulpit, and my next three sermons are ready. I have missed being involved in members' lives.

What I have not missed is the cohousing community in which I live, and this needs some thought and prayer.  I love so many things about it and dislike other things (as with all of life, I suppose). I have been relieved to be away from the constant drama, gossip, and – as Keith calls it – “forced conviviality.” Now that I serve a church that does not indulge much in those things, I don’t welcome them in the rest of my life, either. 

Funny, when I hatched the idea of a mini-Sabbatical back in November, I thought I needed a break from church because I was weary from dealing with the threat of Covid and from the heavy news of church disaffiliations. By the time June rolled around, I was desperate to be away from Elderberry. I also know how “down” I get in July and August – an annual occurrence that happens because of the oppressive heat, my inability to play tennis in the heat, and the feeling of being trapped indoors.

What could be better than living for a whole month in a very cool (literally) and beautiful place? I practically skipped to church and back today in 60-degree weather. The divine gifts I have received since being here have tended to be small, surprising, and refreshing.

My sister arrives Tuesday, and her presence will be another gift from God.

Downtown Blowing Rock

A (Mostly) Quiet Day

 

"Return of the Prodigal" by Francis de Erdely

If I’m going to blog, I really do need to take photos. My photo-taking is not great, although I did snap the above picture at the Blowing Rock Museum today. The painting jumped out at me because I instantly recognized it as illustrating the younger son's homecoming in the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

I would not normally have gone out of my way to visit a museum here. Actually, I wasn’t there to see the museum. I walked all the way back to Blowing Rock Methodist Church so I could discover where all those congregants parked on Sunday. The museum is tucked between the Presbyterian and the Methodist churches, and behind the museum is – voila! -- public parking. Not a lot, but some. If I return to church with my son and granddaughter this coming Sunday, we will drive and park behind the museum.

I noticed that the Presbyterian and the Episcopalian churches both have parking lots behind the churches. The Methodist church does not. I wonder if the Methodists steal some of the Presbyterians' parking spaces. 

So -- I was walking past the museum and saw it was open and had no admission fee, so I stopped in. It had a nice photographic history of Blowing Rock, and there were four or five exhibits. Not bad for a small town.

Otherwise, it was a quiet day except for several afternoon fly-overs by military jets – there were two today and three yesterday. They fly very low and are extremely, horribly loud – you can hear them coming VERY fast. The whole building shakes.  I have never experienced this, and yesterday I thought the world was ending, or a bomb was falling, or aliens were landing. I actually leaned down with my arms over my head; the noise genuinely frightened me.  Other people here ran outside their units looking at the sky. I caught a glimpse of one of the jets through the window – military for sure. Why would they be flying here?

My heart pounded for long minutes after they were gone. What must it be like to live in Ukraine, I wondered, where the bombs really do fall. 

Before the fly-over, in the quiet, I wrote a sermon for July 30 on the lectionary scripture from Romans 8. The Spirit helps us in our weakness for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words. For sure, the suffering in Ukraine draws sighs too deep for words. Tonight, I’m praying for the people there. 

Looking for God in All the Right Places (I hope)

 

On retreat earlier this year

So far, the month of July has not been much of a “mini-Sabbatical.”

We drove down last Monday, and at first Keith and our dog Penny were here, joined after a day by our daughter Katherine. They were looking for a vacation, so we did a fair amount of walking in nature, window-shopping, and eating out. The weather was very fine, and we didn’t miss the 90s in the Piedmont at all.

On Thursday, Keith and Penny left, and Katherine stayed for a few days -- but left a day early because the temperature inside my little third-floor condo was really very hot. It followed a cycle of: cool in the morning, comfortable in the mid-morning, going to warm in the afternoon and really hot by about 5 p.m. The heat lasted until well after bedtime, only cooling off around 3 a.m. A high of 80 degrees outside resulted in a warmer temperature than that inside. The open windows never caught much of a breeze, and the fans didn’t cut it and were so loud we couldn’t hear one another talk.  

I purposefully rented an air-conditioned condo – part of my whole intent was to escape the July heat. The so-called AC in this unit is like the kind you find in motels. Located in the living room, it was incredibly feeble, hardly putting out any cool air, and the air certainly never reached the bedrooms.

So I had a conversation with the renting company. To my surprise, they moved me (well, I moved myself with Katherine’s help) to a 3-bedroom mansion in the upscale resort of Chetola. The rental company told me they didn’t know how long I would be there, so I should take everything with me. I stayed there Saturday afternoon and evening, all day Sunday, and Monday morning until I was informed the AC was fixed and I should move myself back to the original condo.

Hauling all my stuff up three flights of stairs was not fun although at least it wasn’t hot.  

The only restful, renewing day I have had so far was Sunday.

I intentionally planned for this week to be alone and quiet – to pray, study, write, and read. Here’s to finding God in unexpected places!

Going to Church

 

Sunday at Blowing Rock Methodist Church

I went to church yesterday; the first Sunday church service I’ve attended but not led in a very long time.

Blowing Rock Methodist Church is located downtown near Presbyterian and Episcopalian churches, and it has zero parking. The congregation worships in a small historic chapel (a little larger than Massey's Chapel) with hard wooden pews, no bathrooms, no fellowship hall, no second building of any kind. I decided to visit because I saw on-line they have a 10:30 a.m. "hymn-sing" before the 11 a.m. service. 

I expected a half-filled church. Instead, the sanctuary was packed solid. They even set up a tent outside with speakers for the overflow. Where did all these people park? And it was raining!

I arrived early because I had to walk about a mile, and I thought it would take longer than it did. I sat on the second pew from the front, and the sanctuary already was crowded with people very much dressed up -- dresses and nice shoes on women; suits and ties on men. How did they wear that and walk in the rain? I was wearing pants and tennis shoes, definitely underdressed, but no one commented or glared at me. In fact, the people were so friendly – like Massey’s! The congregation was composed of older people and no children that I could see (also a bit like Massey’s).

This little church has only worshiped in the summers since 1948, so (I think) they never joined the "United" Methodist Church when we merged with the Evangelical United Brethren (and also united white and black churches) in 1968. I was worried they might be a disaffiliated church, but that is not the case. No one is a member there -- they are all affiliate/associate members, meaning every one of them must retain their regular church membership elsewhere. They worship at Blowing Rock Methodist Church only during the summer. 

The hymn-sing was -- glory be! -- from the little old-fashioned brown Cokesbury hymnal, my favorite! 

A choir of six, composed of Appalachian students, was crowded into seats at the front. A small piano and a small organ were played together. A woman led the congregational singing. Oh my goodness! The singing was unbelievable -- the loudest and most spirited I have ever, ever heard in a church. People were genuinely praising God. We sang the obscure "Dwelling in Beulah Land" for heaven's sake, and everyone knew it and sang it loudly, including the shouted phrase, "Praise God!" that's in it. The congregation started off with "Church in the Wildwood," and the men sang the: "Oh, come, come, come, come," while the women sang, “Come to the church in the Wildwood…” It was heaven for me. 

As soon as we started that kind of singing, the Spirit filled my heart and tears welled up in my eyes. I have been praying that God would revive and refresh my soul while I am in the mountains, but honestly I did not expect that to happen in a small country church. God is just full of surprises. 

Anyway, everyone sang lustily for thirty minutes, and then the service started. At that point, we switched to the regular hymnal.

The preacher (Rev. Dr. Michael Brown) is a retired United Methodist pastor who has served churches mostly in the Western N.C. Conference and New York, written books, and taught preaching and New Testament.  He lives summers in the church’s parsonage in Blowing Rock.  Rev. Brown is a good preacher, needless to say, used no notes, and the service went as smoothly as butter. He was fairly quiet-spoken, but the congregation was raucous, cheering and clapping after two choir anthems. They did not share joys and prayer concerns (maybe too many people), but the pastoral prayer was beautiful. The church received four new associate members that day. The bulletin listed church officers, and they are all associate members with primary memberships in United Methodist churches across North Carolina. 

Oh yes, the preacher's sermon topic was "Envy." He's doing a sermon series on the seven deadly sins, and next Sunday is gluttony!

It was SUCH an uplifting service. This is what small churches can be! Massey's IS like this (if we sang ten times louder), but many small churches have poor attendance, unfriendly apathetic people, terrible music, lackluster singing, dull services, dull preaching. Everyone I met Sunday was smiling and friendly, even though I was wearing pants and tennis shoes.  

I hope to go again next Sunday, although I will have to bring my son and 4-year-old granddaughter who will be visiting. That should be an experience! I'm already planning to bribe Michelle with ice cream to walk a mile in each direction and sit still for an hour and a half. 

Arrival in Blowing Rock

 

Rhododendron blooming in the forest along the Blue Ridge Parkway

Sunday morning, and it is raining for the first time since I arrived here. I’m hoping for a letup before I have to walk about a mile to attend Blowing Rock Methodist Church at the edge of downtown, a church that has zero parking except perhaps for the superstar summer preacher. There’s a hymn-sing at 10:30 a.m. followed by worship.

Nice gig: Live the summer in the church’s parsonage, and preach Sundays from June through August. Of course, who knows what kind of shape the parsonage is in.

I haven’t looked at my laptop until now, and I’ve been here almost a week. Keith and I (and our dog Penny) drove here Monday in separate cars. We lugged suitcases up three flights of stairs to a well-appointed two-bedroom condo which felt, surprisingly, like an oven. Surprisingly, because the temperature outside was only 78, and I have paid for a unit with air conditioning. Apparently, a unit on the top floor heats up quickly, but that’s another story.

Katherine arrived Tuesday evening, and I cooked dinner for her, not the best way to try to cool down a condo. But it was wonderful.  The three of us (four with Penny) did some nature walking off the Blue Ridge Parkway – I’ve never seen the rhododendron bloom like they are blooming now, in shades of pink and white, everywhere.

Katherine and me

Keith and Penny departed Thursday, and Katherine left yesterday. Things were busy while they were here, and now I am alone.

It’s 8:30 a.m., and I see on the radar much heavier rain on the way, due to arrive at exactly the time I will need to start my trek to church. At least I have an umbrella.

Two days ago, Katherine and I enjoyed a visit to Arborcrest in Boone, a private (free) garden open only on Fridays by reservation. We walked the hilly two-mile loop and the trails in between, hardly seeing any people. The elderly doctor who owns the garden designed it to resemble Disney World – though, of course, there are only plants, no rides. It’s fantastic, whimsical, lovely. Here are some photos:

Photo doesn't do the garden justice

Whimsical white spruce

Carnivorous pitcher plant

Hardy cyclamen - Princess Diana

 

 

 

Coming Soon!

 

I begin a mini-sabbatical in the N.C. mountains 

on Monday, July 3, for almost the entire month! 

Stay tuned.....