Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” October 22, 2023
As I take my place in my window seat nook at 4 a.m., I hear one loud and haunting call through the open window. I don’t know if it is an owl or a coyote. I know we have both in the woods, but this one, and only one, sounded different. Perhaps it is a great horned instead of our usual barred owl. In any case, I used it instead of my usual meditation bell to start my silent practice. I began in silent wonder.
Besides the call, there is a steady sound of light rain this morning. A sweet blessing to begin the day. It brings me back to those scenes of healing that met me on the way out of anesthesia, brooks, streams, waves, flowing water on the hospital room television. The producers need not have added the music, the water sounds were more than adequate. Even now they bring me life. (Well, just heard the call again – I would guess it is a great horned owl. Great grey? It is loud and musical.)
I left off the last post recounting the trip Joel and I took to his home state of Wisconsin with the surprising realizatiton that my first home state of New York was still in my blood, wooing me as we drove. After bypassing Buffalo, we headed south through wine country, western New York, northeastern Pennsylivania, getting glimpses of Lake Erie. It was lovely, grape vines lined up for miles, but it did not have the same kind of tug on my heart. We drove through Cleveland, headquarters of our United Church of Christ national church and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. We did not stop until we reached Maumee, Ohio, south of Toledo where I taught a few years at Mercy College.
Northwest Ohio was a healing place for me. We went there after an amazing and somewhat traumatic time in Madison, Wisconsin. In the early to mid-nineties, I worked at St. Paul’s, the University Catholic Center, as the “Woman Chaplain.” This position gave me the opportunity to preach the Word and to co-preside worship servics as well as do programming for the students. As a Roman Catholic woman, I didn’ t think there was any other posititon in the country quite like it. I couldn’t believe it when I was getting calls from public media to ask what I though about the pope’s latest statement, usually on women in the church. I knew I was in a rare situation. It was a challenging job I loved, alongside a staff of priests and other lay people who I loved.
I had to leave there after six years because a new bishop was appointed to Madison who did not appreciate what St. Paul’s was doing there. I and the priest pastor were put in an untenable posititon which resulted in my beginning a panic disorder. But this is a story that needs to be told another time for it might take volumes.
In any case, Joel and I moved to Haskins, Ohio, a farm town with a population of 500, south of Toledo where I taught. I loved it. The sky was big and wide enough for me to breathe in while Madision seemed to close in on me. Although it wasn’t the best place for Joel. An ordained minister, he too was suffering a painful break with the United Methodist Church that treated him as poorly as the Madison bishop treated me, and it was hard for him to know where he belonged. My teaching religious studies and ethics to primarily nursing students at the college helped me to find new purpose.
When we drove through the Haskins area, the sky still enabled me to breathe deeply. All that was left was our drive through Chicago before we reached the state and our beloved people in Wisconsin. This is taking longer than I thought, but since I am sixty-seven, a geographical life-review might be expeced to take time. As does a drive from the coast of Maine to Wisconsin…
Dwelling in Presence 