Sharing Wendell Berry

Snow Day! Finally-get-a-chance-to-blog day! It has been a long time since I have had a chance to write "for fun," and I hope that this semester I will have time to do so. Denver is in a deep-freeze today, with light snow and frighteningly low sub-zero temperatures.

Fall semester was very busy, yet very fulfilling. School demands this spring semester should be less, but I still have lots of writing and editing to do on journal articles. In January, however, I was able to get back in touch with one of my favorite poets, Wendell Berry. I re-read my favorite book of his poetry, read another book about him, and found another article in the seminary library, just by luck. I would like to share this amazing person with whoever reads this stuff, because he is just as touching and relevant today as he was decades ago:

Born in Henry County, Kentucky, in 1934, Wendell Berry's grandparents were depression-era farmers. He witnessed the “old farming” to the tractor-driven “new farming,” with all the promises of mechanization. He attended the University of Kentucky and received a BA in 1956 and an MA in 1957, which opened his literary career. He started writing about Henry County from a distance. He then studied at Stanford with novelist Wallace Stegner, a “formative figure for writing about rural roots.” Berry lived in Italy, and then lived and taught in New York at NY University. Thus, his journey was toward “urban America,” from the west coast to the east coast, away from the heartland.

Yet, about the age of 30, Berry returned to the farm. At first, it was for weekend retreats with his wife and children; then the farm became a “whole-hearted investment,” a complete change in his life. He decided to dwell “in the farm,” not just “on it” or “at it.” He began new thinking about what human beings are really called to. His move “back home” was not a romantic endeavor; it was a rediscovery of life itself. Going “back home” brought several concerns to the forefront which began to reveal themselves in his essays, speeches, in his fiction. His main concern was the “unsustainability of our culture’s casual relationship to the land, to the community and to the past.” His rich poetry began in the 1970’s where he celebrates the basic elements of the local community: marriage, household and place. His cultural observations began to take shape as more than just social criticism.

Wendell Berry is never simplistic; he does not call for us to leave technology and join a rural community. He stresses the integrity between the values we confess and the life we lead. His ideas are like a patchwork quilt, an old quilt, still pleasing to the senses and also still surprisingly useful. Berry’s triad of health-disease-healing resonates strongly with the familiar Reformed world view of creation-fall-redemption. “Health” is Berry’s aspiration for the world “as it should be,” the wholeness and the abiding goodness that is the object of all true longing. With “disease,” Berry points to the displacement, disconnection, and disorientation that we must struggle against at every juncture, lest we be moved away from God, the earth, and ourselves. “Healing” involves recounting what has been lost and reconciling our fragmented selves to both Creator and creation. Healing is a progression toward the desired end: wholeness.

Berry's words are consistent with the call of the gospel, and the commands of Jesus. His words of life are not unlike John 15:9-13 ("My command is this, love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends”). Were we to love all of God's creation more, love each other more, and even ourselves more (as creatures of God), this world would be a better place. Berry calls us to bring healing into a "diseased" world, to “practice resurrection” (never thought of it as a verb before).

Sit back, rest. Think about a green meadow and a "timbered choir" of trees, their long shadows casting coolness in the bright sun (what a picture on a day like this):

Slowly, slowly, they return,
To the small woodland let alone:
Great trees, outspreading and upright,
Apostles of the living light.
Patient as stars, they build in air
Tier after tier a timbered choir,
Stout beams upholding weightless grace
Of song, a blessing on this place.
They stand in waiting all around,
Uprisings of their native ground,
Downcomings of a distant light;
They are the advent they await.
Receiving sun and giving shade,
Their life's a benediction said
Over the living and the dead.
In fall their brightened leaves, released,
Fly down the wind, and we are pleased
To walk on radiance, amazed.
O light come down to earth, be praised!

British Columbia, and Seattle

Just returned home from a fantastic trip through British Columbia to Whistler and Blackcombe mountains, where the Winter Olympic Games, 2010, took place. We visited the area with friends, awed by the panoramic scenery and the black bears! From Whistler village, we took the gondola up to about 8,000 feet of mountain beauty. The picture included is a giant stone Olympic symbol, found throughout the area because the ski events were here. The mountains are vast -- you can fit both Aspen and Vail ski areas inside and still have lots of mountain trails left over. Everything is green, with lots of streams, lakes and waterfalls that split the forest regions. Being there just made me want to ski again -- maybe this winter if the knee is strong enough -- or the next year ---!

From Canada we traveled back south to Seattle, where our friends live, for a few more days of vacation fun. We went up and down the Puget Sound by car, bridge and ferry; we ate fabulous seafood in every town and at every opportunity. On our last day, we visited a house right on Lake Washington for the finale of the annual Sea Fair week in Seattle. It was an airshow, culminating in a breath-taking performance by the Blue Angels (US Navy fighter jets). Super vacation with Starbucks, good friends, good food and wine, filled again with the awe of God's world!

Two Months and Counting

Two months post-surgery and I am functioning like a normal human being again -- whatever that means. I am doing all the expected life-stuff, like tying a shoe, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, pulling weeds in the garden, cooking, cleaning, shopping, carrying books and groceries and even enjoying the mountains again.

Am I pain-free? Not exactly -- I still take an Advil PM before bed. Sometimes I ice the knee in the evenings when it aches. The therapist said it will swell after use for as much as a year after surgery. I taught at a church, standing at a podium for about 45 minutes, and my knee was stiff and sore. It felt like I had a big stretchy bandage around the knee. I still get up slowly from sitting for any length of time. A pedicure is time-consuming and difficult, but not impossible!

I am not bending my knee back as far as my "good" leg, but perhaps that will come with time. The doctor said that I cannot injure what has been done inside the knee. This is reassuring -- I can do anything except run marathons (no need to worry there). The stationary bike is my friend on a daily basis, and I try to walk around the neighborhood in the evenings. It seems to be more beneficial than watching the Rockies on TV.....

I have learned a lot about myself in two months. The healing that I have done emotionally and spiritually has paralleled my physical healing. There are many reasons for this; suffice it to say that I have more patience and tenacity with life and with myself. I can "push through the pain" and come out better on the other side. Depending heavily upon other people is humbling. Certainly I need to relax and "bend" more. I hope that I am less self-centered and self-absorbed. I think I am more compassionate with others, since we all experience throbbing pain at some point in time, in one form or another.

It has been said that "in the storm, we discover who our real gods are. Only the true God rescues us and walks through the storm with us." This is a lesson I hope I will not forget.

Colorado Wildflowers

There is very little debate concerning the awesome scenery in the Colorado mountains in the summertime. July is the apex of the wildflower season, and this year the flowers are spectacular. We went hiking at one of my favorite places, at Shrine Pass, and had a day of sunshine, breath-taking views and photography. We drove a dirt road from the top of Vail Pass (exit 190) to the bottom of Shrine Pass. There is a great hiking trail up from a parking lot to open meadows. At some point in time, a forest fire ravaged these meadows, leaving stumps and fallen trees. The effects are still clearly seen, but now the grasses and flowers have surrounded the uniquely shaped wood, creating a masterpiece of color, form and contrast. One could not plan or plant a better symphony of colors -- blue to purple lupins, indian-paint-brush in bright orange and even raspberry, white and purple asters, yellow sun-flowers and soft blue-bells in the shade. As a back-drop, the sky was blue as only a Colorado sky can be, with big puffy white clouds.

What a glorious day, and I cannot stop thanking God for his awesome creation and for the fact that I can hike into such a magnificent area.

Summertime in Colorado

Dave and I went to Dillon Lake yesterday to do a little fishing. We love to go to Dillon and sit at the water's edge and just soak up the mountain scenery and cool mountain air. It doesn't hurt to catch eight beautiful rainbow trout that came home for dinner. We caught just two in the morning and then went to Frisco to eat lunch. After lunch the wind really picked up on the lake, and it was difficult to cast into the wind. Dave had some alone time fishing while I took a quick visit to the Outlet stores in Silverthorne (caught good stuff there, too!). When I returned to the fishing site, Dave had almost caught our limit. Then, thanks to his casting, I pulled in two great big fish. It was really fun.

The best part was that I could do any of this! My knee is still rather stiff and sore, but I can go up and down stairs, up and down the slope to the edge of the water, around on hiking trails and even shopping!! Yippee!
In conclusion, the summer sunset last evening from our back deck was too beautiful to miss! Enjoy the best of Colorado in the summer.

"Final Exam" Positive

Four weeks after surgery, I met with my surgeon for a final check-up. I have not seen him since immediately before the surgery. It felt like a "final exam" of sorts, and, typical of me, I went with great anxiety. My fears were relieved, however, when Dr. Chiang gave me a positive response. We looked at my x-rays taken the day of the exam, and he was very pleased with his work. I had to admit, the pictures revealed a clear picture of two perfectly positioned prostheses, one secured into the femur (thigh) bone and one secured into the tibia (bottom) bone. While we all rejoiced in this surgical work of art, I was told that the hard work has just begun. We -- rather I--am only part way there. I must work to bend the knee equivalent to the bending of the right knee. He said I am fighting a war against the knee's natural propensity to form scar tissue, and I cannot let that happen. I will never had full extension of the knee or full bend if that tissue is allowed to form scar tissue inside.

The doctor said that I should feel much better between weeks four and six, and pain will continue to reduce as I strengthen the leg and force the knee to bend. Since I am not on blood-thinner anymore, I can use an anti-inflammatory drug such as Aleve or Advil for pain. The narcotics should finally be a thing of the past -- yippee!! If I am faithful to push myself, to stretch and bend, at the end of two more months I will be as good as new.

At this point, he has released me from all limited activity. I can drive a car, play golf (as if I could play golf), walk, hike, swim, do stairs and bike. The only thing I cannot do is sustained running, like a marathon (as if I could do a marathon). Someday I will be able to bend enough to weed the garden, but Dave still has to do that right now......

I am greatly relieved by the "final exam." I saw it with my own eyes. Psychologically, I know that I cannot hurt anything inside the knee at this point and that my final out-come is finally up to me and my determination. I am humbled and grateful -- and sore.