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Day #1 of my 3-day Northern Tier immersion experience was
all that I’d hoped that it would be- I
got to spend the day with several different parishioners of the church who
showed me some of their life and ministry in this tiny town tucked up in the
mountains about an hour north of Williamsport.
I’d been to Mansfield on four or five other occasions: during the walk-abouts, on one of my first
visitations (I did my first Confirmation here, as bishop), and I’d been up
North three other times for our every-other-month Clergy Council meetings… but
all of those occasions took place inside the church.
This time, I didn’t even get into the church.
The program that the parishioners and The Rev. Rowena
Gibbons planned for me went straight to the core of the passions of the people-
and, as we walked through the day, Jesus was right at our side. And so was Joan Berresford, parishioner at St. James and my tour guide for the day. I’d first met Joan during the bishop election
walkabouts and it was wonderful to see her again and for her to lead me through
the day.
We started at Partners in Progress, a program that supports
individuals with intellectual and physical disabilities in vocational training
and supportive coaching. St James’
parishioner Roxanne Heaney-Rumsey works at Partners in Progress and she met us
at the door of the large warehouse-like facility. (I hear that it was once an
old grocery store). Partners in Progress
is about ¼ mile out of town on a commercial strip. Roxanne described the different programs
offered at Partners in Progress which include an on-site workshop where about
40 individuals work with staff to assemble various machine parts- “piece work,” as we know it. Roxanne introduced me to Mike. Mike calls himself the “King of Mansfield,”
and, somehow, I didn’t have any trouble believing that. He was endeared to me immediately as he
explained in detail, the two dozen steps that he took to assemble, inspect and
crate up the widgets that he was working on that day. He showed me the notebook where he kept track
of his daily progress. On Thursday, he
put together and boxed up 460 widgets.
Pretty impressive. The tone of
the workshop was industrious, gentle and buoyant. Staff circulated through, offering
encouragement and assistance, and the employees chatted with each other as they
worked at their stations in the large room.
I learned from Roxanne about the move towards greater integration of the
disabled individuals in the community- working towards finding them jobs in the
fabric of the life of the town, as they
were able…striving towards a fuller picture of society and recognizing the
goodness of the diversity of the town when all are gathered. Something led me back to Genesis 1: “And when God saw all that (God) had
done- diversity in creation- God said, “It is good..” (paraphrased) I was so delighted to meet Roxanne- one of my
CPA Facebook friends- and we chatted as
she took me next door to the Thrift Store run by Partners in Progress and
staffed by a mixed group of disabled and typically functioning folks. Of course I did not leave without filling a
small bag with some thrift items from the housewares section. (Sorry, hubby.)
After lunch my guide, Joan, drove me out of town and up into
the hills to the farm of Robby and Kathleen England. Robby and Kathleen live in some of the most
beautiful rolling hills and pasture land in our commonwealth and they raise
Border Leicester sheep. About 150 of
them, in fact. When we got out of the
car, Kathleen was standing on her porch inspecting hanks of yarn that she had
just dyed and that were drying,
outside. Robby emerged from the barn,
and, when he opened the door, the sounds of bleating baby lambs and classical
music made its way to us. Apparently the
barn is filled with classical music night and day. It reminded me of babies who listen to
Mozart. I stood in the bright sunshine, taking it in. A cat wound her way around my ankle and a big,
happy yellow dog came over for a pat.
All of my “farm fantasies” were immediately activated. (My home library
includes several books on “chucking it all and moving to a farm/homesteading,
etc.” It is my favorite escape fantasy.)
In spite of the next hour or so in which Robby and Kathleen described
their life and work (Robby also works at the hospital in the lab , has a
weaving studio and is a musician)… I was not disavowed of the wonder of farm
life. Robby and Kathleen only worked to
enhance it, actually. Grandson Eric was
also on site and a patient host as we made our way in and around the farmhouse
looking at woolens, blankets, shawls…all produced by this exceptional family.
And the lambs. Oh the
lambs. None of the three ewes who were
still expecting were in active labor in the hour that we were there, but we
were led through the barn and saw babies just a day or two old, including twin
orphan lambs and a jolly set of black triplets who climbed over each other to
reach Robby when he stepped in the pen.
I got to hold one of the triplets… and to feed another a
supplemental bottle of formula. Robby
and Kathleen talked with tender practicality about the joys and difficulties of
raising livestock. And I asked a million
dumb questions. They were kind and patient with me. Kathleen showed us her shop where she and her
knitting partner display their amazing woolen goods. And, oh, they are writing a book. Amazing.
My fascination with the lambs and farming (and Kathleen,
Robby and Eric’s good nature) made me ½ hour late for our next appointment - a
tour of Mansfield University. The school
sits just at the edge of the downtown and is built into the hill. The campus is built on three or four tiers,
nestled into the mountainside. I am told that one must be “part billy goat” to
go to Mansfield University. My tour
guide was David Steinbeck, English professor at the university and member of
St. James. As he showed me the
impressive physical plant he spoke with deep and quiet passion about the craft
of teaching… something that he had returned to after years as an administrator.
David loves teaching. And I suspect that
he is a fine, fine teacher, based what he told me. But even more, by the way that he said it- and how he lit up
as he talked about his work. Mansfield
University is a small school- part of the Pennsylvania state school system- and
known for its exceptional music program.
I know that there is a good connection between St. James and the
school’s music department; St. James’ provides a venue for student recitals and
welcomes students to participate as musicians in their worship services.
The balance of my afternoon was spent in a second story yoga
studio (Main St. Yoga) in a restored building (Joan told me that it was once a
department store) in a yoga class with The
Rev. Rowena Gibbons on the mat next to me. I was reminded how wonderful an hour of
gentle stretching, meditation and movement can be for the body, mind, and soul,
and was grateful to Rowena for sharing this part of her daily practice with
me. Yoga? In Mansfield?
Yes, siree. There were about 15
of us in this room- all seasoned and regular participants. There is a healthy vibe in Mansfield.
We took nourishment at a brew pub down the street where we
met a table-full of parishioners for an excellent dinner. Our friends Robby, Kathleen, Eric and David
were there... as well as 6 or 7 other folks from St. James. The food was excellent: I had a vanilla porter (a good dark beer that
would stand up to any Guinness that I’ve ever had) and a baked kale salad with
roasted tomatoes and tofu. There was
lamb on the menu but I just couldn’t.
The end of the day included an hour’s visit to a dress
rehearsal for a concert at the university.
Three of St. James’ parishioners were in the chorus that included alumni
and current students and they were joined by both a chamber ensemble and a
bluegrass band. It was fantastic. The
seasoned and acclaimed director, Peggy Dettwiler, led the group through a modern
requiem and then a wonderful bluegrass mass that included old spiritual and
Southern Harmony melodies. It was a joy
to see these folks involved in creating art and beauty… and so passionately
involved.
I headed for the Penn Wells hotel in Wellsboro knowing that
any blog entry could not do justice to the beauty, passion and grace of the
day.
I met my pillow with gratitude for what had been a full and
wonderful day.
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