Europe 2011 Videos - Parts 1 through 9

Here are all nine parts of the video featuring my photography from my time speaking in Europe last spring. I created these for mine and your enjoyment. Above each one, I have titled them with the places featured in that particular segment so you can pick and choose what to watch. Enjoy!

Part 1: Watford, London, Belgium, and Netherlands


Part 2: Germany


Part 3: Switzerland (FWCC Conference)


Part 4: Paris, France (1 of 2)


Part 5: Paris, France (2 of 2)


Part 6: Birmingham (QUIP Conference) and Quakerism in Northern England (Swarthmoor Hall)


Part 7: Quakerism in Northern England and Time with Hetty (Kendal and Pendle Hill)


Part 8: Stonehenge, Bath, and London


Part 9: Cambridge, Lewes, Brighton, and London

Europe 2011 Video - Part 7

Here is Part 7 of my trip to Europe last spring. This covers Kendal, Pendle Hill, and my time in the North Country with Hetty.

Europe 2011 Video - Part 6

Part 6 of my Europe videos. Seven is almost done as well!

Europe 2011 Video - Part 5

This is Part 5 of the videos from Europe when I was in Paris, France. I'll now be working on the rest from my weeks in England.

Europe Video- Part 3

Apparently, this made it onto youtube but never my blog. This is from my time at the FWCC conference in Switzerland.

Europe Picture Slide Show - Part 2

Here is the second installment!

Europe Picture Slide Show - Part 1

I am finally to the point I can start sharing pictures with everyone.  Though I am still sorting through them, I have put the first week of the trip in a slide show for yours and my enjoyment.  The other parts will be released in the coming days.  Stay tuned...

Where in the World is Sarah?

It's been a busy week!  For some reason, I saved the busiest schedule for the last week I am here.  Last Sunday I was in Chorley with Hetty and her family.  After lunch, we took the train back down to London where I stayed the night with her before leaving in the early morning with a tour on Monday to Stonehenge then Bath.  I then stayed in Bath for two nights where I was given some soap and had a shower in the rain (along with seeing many wonderful places!) and then took another morning train on Wednesday back to London to explore Kennsington Palace, see a show at the Globe Theatre where I ran into someone I last saw in Switzerland, whizzed through the Tate Modern, and saw the musical Love Never Dies at the Aldelphi Theatre.  Thursday morning I woke up early to catch a morning train to Cambridge where I went punting and enjoyed a long walk before giving a talk in the evening.  On Friday morning, I woke up early to, you guessed it, catch a morning train to Lewes which went through London.  Arriving in the afternoon in Lewes, I had another walk and a good dinner before getting about nine hours sleep!  I am here in Lewes for another night before catching the train back to London tomorrow evening.  I then get a full day to explore Greenwich, the Tate Britain, and see Wicked before flying home on Tuesday.

It's nice to have my last weekend here in a small town near the coast and though it involves two talks, it's still a way to unwind a bit and get some rest.  I'm getting a hang of this traveling thing though, all the trains and the tube system.  I now know what to look for, where to go, and am feeling quite confident.  It's a nice place to be, it is what I am used to.  (I have spent a lot of time stepping on and off trains!)  For example, yesterday to get here, I had to take a bus, a train, the tube, and another train.  No problem.  Easy as pie.  Even my backpack has become a friend, that traveling companion ever nearby.

Today George and I are walking to see the castle here in Lewes before I give my talk tonight.  I also get to wash all my clothes today which is pretty exciting as well.  I'll try to create a post of pictures later today for all of you to see.

Tramp for the Lord

In the Corrie Ten Boom Museum in the Netherlands, I saw a picture in an upstairs hallway of Corrie standing on a road with a suitcase in hand and a smile on her face, the caption underneath reading, “Corrie, tramp for the Lord”.  Corrie traveled extensively sharing her story of The Hiding Place with the entire world, speaking in an untold number of places, talking about tolerance, compassion, and diversity with whoever would listen.  I loved this picture and felt an immediate affinity for what it represented.  Being a traveling minister myself, I thought this picture was hilariously funny and immediately decided I too, was a tramp for the Lord.

As of today, I have been on the road with my backpack for one month, one-twelfth of the whole year.  By the time I am done with this trip and adding in all the other travel I have done for the book in the last twelve month period, it probably comes close to one-sixth of the year.  I think this definitely gives me “Tramp for the Lord” status.  This pleases me.

In addition to being greatly amused by this new title, it has also given me an opportunity to think about what being a tramp for the Lord means.  Going into this ministry trip, I knew the hardest part would not be all the moving from place to place or carrying the backpack, which I am told is probably at least fifty pounds, but that it would be handling the roles of speaker, guest, representative, and author on a nearly constant basis for almost six weeks straight.  It’s an admittedly, tall order.

When traveling on a journey like this, you aren’t your own person, your time is not yours to use as you wish.  When you are a tramp for the Lord, you lay down some of your own desires, preferences, and even needs.  You give when you think you can’t give anymore.  You engage with people when you would rather disengage and sneak off to be alone.  You put one foot in front of another when you would rather sit down.  It is very much a laying of one’s life on the altar, giving it up, casting your net out on the water, and praying, “Not my will by thine be done.” 

I’m not saying that it’s not fun.  I’m not telling you that there aren’t times when I have more freedom to go do as I choose than at others when I’m on someone else’s schedule or that I haven’t had delightful periods of peaceful rest.  I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it all over again in a heartbeat, that all the things I have seen, explored, and learned are not entirely worth all the planning and the daily challenge of being present.  The rewards are more than worth the price.  In fact, the Sunday before I left, friends at church said with generous sarcasm, “Way to carry the cross Sarah!  Suffering for Christ in Europe!”  And it’s not as if all my needs go unmet.  But you never get as much time to rejuvenate as you would like, as much quiet without someone wanting to talk to you as you need.  You have to learn in the fire when to keep going when you don’t think you can and when to excuse yourself for some rest.  I probably error on the side of staying to talk with people but I know my time here is of limited duration and I need to be open while I can.

One image that has inspired me continually as I go along is that of scattering seeds in the fields I have the honor of passing through.  Hanging against my hip is a “bag of seeds” and everywhere I go, I reach my hand in, grasp a handful, and throw them out among the furrows.  I pray they take root.  I pray they find a place to grow.  I pray God brings along other people to water the seeds I’ve thrown.  But where the seeds land and how they grow I will never know.  My task is to walk through the fields faithfully, to throw the seeds lovingly, not to know what happens to them after I leave.  But there is great pleasure in this, pleasure in knowing I get to throw the seeds and joy in being a planter in hands I adore.  Tramping along the dirt roads beside stone walls, I do what needs to be done to get the seeds out there. I have faith God has reasons for exactly where I go.

So here I am, giving my time, my efforts, my life.  Because that is what we do in the ministry and we are all ministers.  We acknowledge that our lives are not about us.  It’s about the larger story of God redeeming the world and everything in it, seed by seed.  It’s about being a light of his everlasting and steadfast love, of his joy and inner peace.  It’s about grace.  But the great thing is though, that God takes care of his children. The Lord makes sure all our true needs are met while we scatter his seeds.  Though we sacrifice our lives, God does not.  He takes what we give and makes sure we have what we need.  He gives us the space we did not expect to write in our journal, or take a walk by the sea, or a train ride that’s quiet, or makes sure an activity is more life-giving than we thought it would be.  I know I’m in good hands.    I am still a whole person and God respects that more than anyone else.  But if I am not willing to sacrifice for a greater good, what is my faith worth, let alone the service I give?  We all want to leave behind us something larger than ourselves, something lasting longer than our lifetime.  The Bible tells us to die to self so we can live, a verse I think Corrie must have liked and I am proud to walk under the same banner, a tramp for the Lord.

Art of the Ages

While traveling throughout Europe, I have seen a great deal of art and religious art in particular.  During medieval times and the Renaissance, most art was religious in nature and there are certainly a lot of religious sculptures and paintings in the churches and cathedrals.  After examining all these extraordinary works from throughout the ages, I have had several questions to wrestle with, things I have pondered and asked about our view of God and self.

Look at the sculpture pictured above.  What do you notice?  What do you see?  One of the things I notice as I look at it is that everyone is dressed in the clothes of the time this sculpture was carved.  This it true for much of the religious art I have seen.  Rarely are the figures dressed in clothes they may have actually worn.  Think about the amount of fabric here, would they have actually worn that much?  Of course not!  Fabric fibers were harvested, cleaned, carded, dyed, spun, woven and then sewn. There is an immense amount of work in that process and they would have not wasted fabric on extra folds or trains.  They would have needed to be able to move around to do their work.  Only the rich could afford flowing robes.  So why are they pictured in clothes such as these?  Why go so far out of their original context?

The reason the artists went outside of the character’s context is because they weren’t painting the Biblical context, they were painting their own.  They weren’t concerned about staying true to the historicity of the times, they wanted to paint theirs.  They painted and sculpted to bring the stories of the Bible into their own world, into their understanding.  If we did that today, the disciples would be wearing jeans and t-shirts that say, “Gone Fishing”.  But in the modern western culture, we spend immense amounts of time understanding the “original context”, the Biblical cultures, clothing, and way of behavior.  We want to find out what they ate, what their houses were like, and the practices of their social structures. 

So we have two different cultures with two different views on the Biblical stories: one culture that put them into their own context and another who study the context in its original setting.  So here is my question: which is it?  Were they wrong to try to understand the stories through the lens of their own culture?  Are we wrong to keep the stories at such an objective distance?  Do one of us have the better idea?  Are we both wrong?  Are we both right?  Is there even a right and wrong in the first place?

I believe that when it comes down to it, we are both right and we are both wrong, if right and wrong are even the best terms for it.  I love the truths both views represent.  On one end, we study the original settings which help us better understand what the writers meant, the importance of some of the details in the stories.  But if we leave the stories there, they mean little.  We need to then bring these stories and characters into our own contexts, into our time frame and find out how these stories written so long ago are our stories, how they hold the truths of our lives.

At the same time, if we go too far in one direction, if we forget to look at the writers’ original context and read what they said entirely into our own world, or if we spend so long studying what they said to their culture and forget what they are saying to our own, then we are missing the whole point of why they wrote.  God’s word is always new, always speaking.  It spoke to their time, it spoke to those in the Middle Ages, and it speaks to ours here and now.  Art is supposed to be creative, to make us see things we might have missed, and whether that art places characters in clothes of their time or in ours doesn’t matter so much as the message those stories convey. 

To take this to an even broader level of Truth, I have also been asking myself a question on top of the first: do we insist on clothing God in what we see as the truth of our times?  Do we play dress-up with God?  Do we place our values and desires upon God, assuming the Lord agrees with what we hold as important?  There must be a reason most religious art of the past hasn’t even tried to portray God directly, only Jesus.  Did they know this could never be done?  So why do we try to do the very thing they never even dared attempt?  Why do we portray God in metaphorical modern day clothing and ideas, that same pair of jeans and a t-shirt that proclaims, “Turn or burn!”  God is so much bigger than that, better than that.  He outstrips us, our understandings, our ideas, our conceptions.  God wants us to search after him, to try to understand him, but not to put him inside our understanding.  He is the painter, we are the painted.

So take a step back and take another one forwards.  Put God in context then let God get back out again.  Study the art before you, either on canvas, in stone, or written onto the bark and brooks of the larger world, and see what stands out to you.    How do you see the origins of the story?  And how do you see the one who originated you?  The painter is still painting.

Daring to Open the Door

I have long heard tales about the glories of the Woodbrooke library, how it is a literal treasure trove of hundreds of years of Quaker thought, writings from as long as Quakers have been practicing this particular spirituality.  I have been told how people come from far and wide to study here and to open the books held within its walls, how there are many nuggets of gold among the pages never fully explored.  I had also read guests could borrow the books while they were here.

Thus, when I saw the stained glass door with the word "library" incorporated into the design, I was rather excited.  Being a very curious person, using my key, I unlocked the door, walked down a short hallway, and entered a cream colored, small room.  On my right was a locked door labeled "library office" and I could see through the glass window there were shelves of material stored in there.  On my left, were bookshelves full of fiction and poetry and while scanning the volumes, I was pleasedd to see they had the full sets of Harry Potter and Narnia.  Still, I wanted to write while I was here, not read, and besides, I would be more interested in non-fiction anyway.  I figured they stored the old books in the office to protect them while no one was on duty.  Rather dissapointed as this did not live up to the glories I had heard of, I turned around and walked out. 

The next morning, I was eating breakfast with several of the other conference participants when one of them was telling us about how she spent a very enjoyable time the evening before in the library and how when she left, there were several other people still up chatting.  This didn't match my impression of the room and when I told her so and shared what I had seen, she told me I had to keep going through that room and into another.  Quickly, I finished breakfast and headed back to see what else there was.  This time, I let myself into the first room, and walked straight through it to another door I had not noticed before labeled "library".  Letting myself into this room, I saw before me shelves of non-fiction books along with moveable shelves to my right and while they looked very interesting and I figured the old ones were on the moveable shelves, I was still dissapointed.  What I saw and experienced was not what I had heard about.  So much for great libraries.

But then as I looked around, I spotted yet another door.  Pushing on the door handle, I walked through and finally saw what everyone had been talking about.  From floor to ceiling were locked book cases with glass fronts and behind them were shelves and shelves of extremely old looking books, book after book after book after book.   Looking down at a sign on a table in front of them, I read, "All books published before 1800 are now on restricted access.  Please ask library staff for help."  It took me one second flat to realize where the books published after 1800 (!) would be.  Sure, enough, turning to my left were high shelves full of both old and new books and eagerly, I ran to these and started scanning titles.  Freely, I pulled off and perused books from years such as 1818 and 1826, people's journals and periodicals, records, and theological thoughts about the goodness of God in a world with so much trouble and pain.  There were early Quaker documents, people I had never heard of, a whole library full!  The glories of reading were open for all.

As I walked back through the rooms of the library that day, I thought about how similar this is with our experiences of God.  We hear about a God who is loving beyond end, who wants to spend our daily lives with us, and how he will renew the whole of creation, glory beyond measure  We hear of wonders and miracles and joy and peace and love and those sound fantastic so we decide to explore this God of which we hear and go to church or pray.  We pick up a book or write a book, we go hear a speaker and start speaking ourselves.  We look for God in the flowers, in the smell of freshly mown grass, among the bricks and motar of the world.  And we come up dissapointed.  We do not see the God of which we hear.  Some walk out, some stay in the room trying to make the best of the situation, make the best of a dissapointment we don't even admit to.

But then we sit down to breakfast one morning, or talk to a friend and they tell us of their experiences with a God we do not know.  A God we have hoped for, but have never seen or touched ourselves.  We have heard whispers but have never known where to look, caught glimpses but never knew where to run.  But we give it a go, we decide to go back to what we have known and look again.  And this time we see a door.  Do we dare to walk through it?  Do we dare to leave what we have known behind and see what is on the other side?  Yes, we dare!  Turning the handle, we step into a whole new view of the Lord we thought we had known, new vistas are opened, new horizons before us yet this is still not the God we have heard of so we, having learned our lesson in the first room, look aroumd and explore, searching for yet another door.  Then there it is and we walk boldly before it in great reverence suspecting what is beyond. 

Grasping the door knob in our hands, we slide it open and are immediaetly in awe of what we find beyond.  Everything we have heard of is true. Everything we have longed for is there.  And God is there, full glory, eternal majesty, with our favorite cup of tea wanting to be personal, to talk, to listen, to walk the road with us, to show us this whole new creation.  Wisdom of the ages at our fingertips, love beyond measure around us.  It's all true, it's all solid, and there is so, so much more. 

We are all in such rooms.  We are all looking, searching, even if we have come to uneasy terms with dissapointment.  We suspect there is something more to God and this world.  We suspect there is deeper love and healing and we know that where we are at is not it.  And we are right.  The rooms we are in are not it and here is where the metaphor breaks down.  There is no final room.  There is no place we finally get to lay down in and say we have seen it all.  There is only door after door after glorious door.  This doesn't mean, however, we need to go right from one room into another.  It is okay to stop and take a look around, to pull some of the books off the shelf, find a chair, and open them up.  The shelves are a gift.  The books, the writings, they are to guide us as we walk through these rooms, words to teach us and let us know there are doors beyond and when we learn from them, we are better able to see the door into the next room.

I have walked through many doors in my life and it comstantly amazes me when I find yet another one waiting for me to open up and walk through. Some doors I am searching for and some are given me.  Some I find in great surprise and others are pointed out.  Sometimes it is a book I've read, or a place I have seen, but they are always there one after another, calling me to keep looking, keep knowing, and keep growing.  It's a beautiful garden that fills your soul with peace, it's the song of the birds, or tears of a new realization.  It's the love of a friend, so deep, resonating in the very core of your heart that you look at God and think, this must a part of what your love is like.  We think we know.  We think we understand.  Then something comes along that brushes our hand and haunts us, telling us there is more.  Do we stop?  Do we dare to look beyond?  Do we open the door?

Do I?  Do you?

A Room of One's Own

By the time I arrived at Woodbrooke, it had already been a long traveling day and I was tired.  Between the Metro, Eurostar, walking, train, and bus, I was ready to set my bags down and to rest a while.  So after signing in, a woman brought me upstairs to show me my room.  Walking in behind her, I took a look around and spotting only one bed, became very excited.  A room to myself?  Really?  This was beyond my wildest dreams!  There are truly no words to explain how much this means to me.  I may be an extrovert, but after nearly three weeks of traveling in six countries, some time to myself in private space is exactly what I need.

I want you to know I am extremely grateful to all my hosts, grateful for their kindness, hospitality, and loving grace.  They have been a dear gift I treasure.  But after sharing space for so much time along with dealing with the stress and joys of travel, I love getting to "let my hair down" by myself in my own defined space. 

Upon later exploration, I found a hair dryer which means I get to do my hair up, an extra blanket to cuddle up in, my very own bathroom and shower, a kettle and fixings for tea and hot chocolate, a closet to hang some clothes up instead of always digging in my bag, a desk to write at, a window that opens, and a chair for reading.   Absolute heaven!  I even borrowed a hot water bottle from the Friends in Residence Office, a cherry on top of an already very large ice cream sundae! 

It is also nice to be at this particular conference as it is a writer's conference and I am happy to be with those who share my love of the written word.  I also feel very much a part of this group as this is the fourth meeting I have been a part of and they enjoy having Harriet, another editor of Spirit Rising, and I here as active members.

For those who don't know, Woodbrooke is a Quaker Study Center in Birmingham, England made up of several buildings, the biggest of which is a huge mansion, surrounded by beautiful gardens, a forest, and a lake.  The gardens are a world of their own, a magical place with hidden rooms and paths leading to unexpected delights, the kind of place you would expect to find fairies flying around in the air with the bees.  It is a place of rest and intellectual and spiritual searching and study.  It is just right for me at this time in my journey.  In fact, I have already been able to take the time to write some new poems during a poetry writing workshop this morning.  Oh yes, and the English breakfasts an d tea are delicious.

I tell you this not only to let you know how things are going, but as I have walked this journey, I have developed a passion for helping other traveling ministers by being a voice for them of the joys and the struggles of traveling and speaking.  It is not an easy undertaking and demands far more of the minister than they think they can give.  It also demands a whole new level of self-care, a learning curve of when to push yourself and when to let yourself "off the hook" and go rest. This conference is both a time for me to work on topics I am deeply passionate about and to take the rest I deeply need.  I am immensely grateful for both. 

An Interview with God

The foothills of the Swiss Alps, Paris streets, and a German café – it has been a whirlwind adventure thus far for our traveling minister. Now at the half-way mark of her European speaking tour, this roving Walking the Sea guest reporter managed to sit down with Sarah on the Eurostar train while heading back to England. While asking the questions you all want to know (I already know), Sarah candidly shared her experiences with me (as she usually does) and the lessons learned while trekking across the European continent.

“Good morning Sarah. How are you doing today?"

“Pretty good. A little tired but I am on the train back to London so I can sit back and relax for awhile while talking to you.”

“Good. We’ll make sure you get to bed at a decent hour after you speak on the poetry panel tonight. But for now, let’s talk. You have been on the road for nearly three weeks. Overall, how has the trip been going for you?”

“The trip has been going well. It has been stressful at times and breathtaking at others. I’ve seen so much that it is going to take me a long time to digest it all.”

“What are some of your favorite things you’ve seen?”

“Many cathedrals and churches including St. Paul’s, Cologne, Sacre-Coeur, Notre Dame, Sainte Chapell, and one in Brussels. I’ve also explored many museums such as the Louvre, Rodin Museum, Dutch Resistance Museum, and the one on the history of London. I also loved seeing the original works at the British Library and a German poet’s museum in Germany. Two that really moved me deeply though and meant a lot to me were the Anne Frank House and the Corrie Ten Boom Museum.”

“What was so inspiring about those?”

“Anne Frank and Corrie Ten Boom are household names in America and were part of my education. They were stories I knew well but hearing a story and then visiting the houses where the events took place are entirely different experiences. I can read about the hiding place in Corrie’s bedroom all I want, but to stand inside it with five other people, the amount in hiding when the family was arrested, the truth becomes known in your body and what they did reaches way down deep inside me.”

“You also had some interesting thoughts in Europe about World War II you haven’t shared. What are those?”

“Being in Europe itself was also life changing. You hear a story but then when you visit the place, it becomes so much more real to you. Going to the beach, Marielke and Fritz told me as we sat in the dunes that they are still finding buried bodies from World War II when the Nazis would take their Jewish and political prisoners and make them dig their own graves there before shooting them. I am born a Jew and though it is above my grandmother’s generation (usually the cut-off for the Nazi’s), I am still racially Jewish and involved at Temple so I don’t think they would have had a problem killing me too. Besides being in places I would have been killed, not that I wouldn’t be killed for being a woman or Christian at other times and places, seeing the repercussions and hearing people’s stories of their families, I realized it is not something that happened 70 years ago, but is part of the fabric of life today. Temples still have tight security in Europe as anti-Semitism in still around.”

“You have spent a lot of time with people from other cultures. What has that been like?”

“For most of my time thus far, I have been the only person from my country. At the conference in Switzerland of 80-90 people, there were people from 26 different countries including a few Americans. Among the young adults there were 10 countries represented, I was the only American, and seven countries in my small group. I have really enjoyed these times of getting to know people from all over the world. It helps me gain a wider perspective on life, to not be so boxed in within my own culture, to be able to see past it and that there are many ways of speaking and living. By knowing and appreciating other people’s cultures, it has helped me see the light and dark sides of my own.”

“What are one of the major differences between European and Western American culture?”

“Most people in European cities take public transportation whereas in Oregon, we drive most places. This affects so many things! For instance, there are no car parks. The whole time I’ve been in Europe, I have only seen one car park and that was a small one outside Versailles. Most people who do drive park on the street and those cars are really small. Since people have to carry the food they buy, there are many small markets and food comes in smaller packages for easier carrying. I have not seen a single supermarket the whole time.

The houses and flats are also a lot smaller than in America, much more compact. They don’t have the drive to accumulate stuff like many people in my country do, there is no place to put it, and they are much more conscious of how their choices affect the earth.”

“You don’t speak Flemish, German, Swiss, or French. How have you got along language wise?”

“It has been really hard. I liken it to a cat having tape put on its paws. Cats sense a lot through their paws and having that sense taken away is very limiting. It feels like your hands and feet have been tied up as well as a gag over your mouth for you don’t understand the signs either in addition to conversations. Being a speaker and writer, having my career and this ministry based on the English language, this has been particularly difficult. I learned to tune most everything out, all the conversations and all the signs. In Germany I was in a huge bookstore and was not tempted to pick up even one book. This is huge for me as I love reading but all the books were in German so I just tuned them out. Most of my world has been tuned out. I have managed to learn to figure things out and get the gist of what some of the signs say and that has helped. I have also learned to search for someone who speaks English who can help me find my way. This has not been easy to do at times when each of us speaks very little of the other’s language but we usually get the gist across. One word I did learn pretty quickly is the French word for exit, sortie. That was a helpful one to know. Still, I have spent so much time conversing and spending time with people from other countries that it has become a huge treat to talk to someone who speaks English with an accent similar to my own. This gives my ears and brain a break from trying to understand all the different accents! It has been funny standing in lines for the various sights when I find myself next to someone from America or Canada (this does not happen often) who has something near my accent. We are so happy to talk for a few minutes together!”

“Traveling alone cannot be easy while dealing with these challenges. What has that been like for you?”

“Well, first, I am not alone. You are with me everywhere I go. But you’re right, it is hard not having any other human with me on a continual basis for such a long trip. Some people I am seeing in more than one place and that helps but it is a lot of saying hello and goodbye again and again and when there is a problem while traveling from place to place, I have had to find ways to deal with it on my own. I have loved spending time with my European friends and getting to know new ones. At the same time, it can be lonely when you do so much traveling by yourself. It is probably one of the hardest things about this trip.”

“How have you dealt with the loneliness?”

“Blogging on here has helped ease the stress of traveling by myself and hearing comments back on here and facebook helps immensely. If people wanted to support me while on this journey, that is something they could do that only takes a bit of time but gives me great joy. Not being able to communicate much in the countries I’ve been in, I know I can talk and lift my voice up on the internet and it is nice to know I have been heard and to hear back from friends.”

“Do you have any advice for someone traveling in the ministry on their own?”

“Oh yes! Have a few people back home who you can really talk to, be deeply honest with and trust and who are encouraging and loving. Make sure they are people who will respond back to you when you contact them through e-mail or Facebook and that they will be with you when you need to vent or share your frustrations and joys, people who will let you know you are heard and loved. This is what has helped me the most, these friends who help ground me and let me know someone is listening.

Also, if possible, spend time with people you already know from other places. While here, I have had the delight of getting to know better people I have traveled with in Kenya and spoken to in America. Some of these people I am seeing more than once and that helps as well. They have been those I ask for feedback on the talks and they who I rely on for help and companionship while here. In fact, there are not many times on this trip when I am not with someone I have already known or at least met.”

“How about any other advice for people traveling in the ministry in general?”

“Keep investing their time in a relationship with you. Nearly every morning, I read a portion of the Bible and think about what sticks out to me from what I’ve read. We also talk throughout the day and it is your strength I rely on when I don’t think I can go any further. There have been times I have been exhausted with aching legs and back, simply concentrating on putting one foot in front of another, and I feel you pick me up into your arms and carry me where I need to go. Having additional reading to feed me has been very helpful in learning about you. My pastor gave me a book to deliver to someone she knows in England and suggested I read it myself before I meet up with him and my spiritual director gave me the Sunday Missal with reading and reflections from the mass while I’m gone. Spending all this time with unprogrammed Quakers when I am used to a more structured style of church, these tools have been important. I also have been keeping a journal, not even necessarily about the trip, just things I need to talk out with you.”

“What have you been learning spiritually?”

“A huge lesson came yesterday as I was standing in line for the Louvre Museum. This is usually a line people try to avoid but it turned out to be one of my favorite moments in the whole day. On my ipod was a song I used to sing in youth group when I was in high school, a song I love, and I was reading the book Peggy gave me to deliver. What the author says has given me a lot to think about, and really, would be a whole blog post in itself, but in this interview, I’ll say it has taught me a new level of freedom living in your world, in your love. Instead of trying to learn how to do things better, I’ve been learning to live and love and BE and things another spiritual director once told me I see in greater clarity. I also learned that the sight seeing, the exploration and expanding of my mind and perspectives is also part of my work as a traveling minister. Realizing that made my time looking around a lot less stressful, more joy-filled and more relaxed. I also learned if you are standing in line trying not to cry for the truth of it all, people are too busy taking pictures of the building to notice.”

“What are you really glad you brought with you?”

"There are a few things I usually bring with me when I travel such as my watch, alarm clock, and Rick Steves backpack. However, there are a few things that have come with me for the first time that have made a world of difference. One of these is my ipod. I usually only listen to it on the long distance trains, when I’m alone, or waiting in a line, so at other times I can be aware of my surroundings and with the people I came to see but it is my comfort object. It is what gives me familiar sounds and feelings in a foreign land. I also bought the inside bags for the Rick Steves backpack and I am never traveling without them again! These three bags, one large, two smaller, make living out of a backpack so much easier, I cannot tell you just how much. Things stay organized and I am so glad I bought them. My daypack is another bag that is exactly what I needed. My cousin’s friend makes these and we made a barter deal for this one. Inside are many pockets, large and small, and as the trip has gone on, each thing in the bag has found the place it goes back to. I love this bag! It is my nearly constant companion wherever I go. The last item I cannot even imagine I was going to travel without is my netbook. A netbook is a small laptop with a ten inch screen and limited capabilities, light and compact. Realizing how much writing I had to do while on the trip, I wrestled with the decision of purchasing one to bring along and I have used it every day. It has not hindered me experiencing where I am at but has helped me stay organized, in touch with people, and has helped expand my writing time to you all ten-fold. Yay for netbooks!

There is also a whole other category of things I have that mean a great deal to me. In the last few days as I was preparing to leave, a few of my friends gave me small gifts to take along. My spiritual director gave me the Sunday Missal, as I’ve already said, another friend knitted me hand warmers and yet another gave me a pair of gloves. One friend gave me a pair of earrings I never have to take out and one gave me a blank journal. Two of the necklaces I brought are also gifts I’ve been given in the past along with a fuzzy pair of purple socks for comfort. One friend gave me a massage the day before I left and that has stayed with me too. With these items as constant reminders, I feel the love of my friends all around me, buoying me up as I’ve walked this journey. They are like warm hands placed on my heart.”

“Tell us about the talks you have been giving.”

“So far, I have spoken about Spirit Rising at Watford Friends Meeting, Der Haague Friends Meeting, and at the Friends House in Paris. In Watford I also spoke to the youth about Freedom Friends Church and evangelical Quakerism in my area and in Switzerland, I spoke about my passion for writing and about being honest with your readers. My next talk is speaking on a poetry panel tonight at the Quakers Uniting in Publications Conference in Birmingham, England. All these talks have gone well and people really enjoy hearing about Spirit Rising and my experiences as a writer. Giving these talks have been my favorite part of the whole trip! I usually start out by telling people about the book, how it came about and our process of putting it together. I then read a few pieces aloud, always including the poem describing the process of our editorial board working together cross-culturally, The Journey Worth Taking, and the story, Phish Food. I read Phish Food because I can always make an audience laugh whenever I read that story and I love to make people laugh.”

“You’ve been very busy. When do you breathe?”

"On the trains. I breathe and relax on the trains and they have quickly become hours I look forward to because I know that for a while, I can get lost in my own world. I work on my writing, look out the window, read a book, or just listen to my ipod. I also have the sense when I am on a train that you are bringing me to the next place you want me to be, that this is your itinerary and you know whose lives need to be blessed as I go along. Like a sower of seed, I walk through fields scattering your love and the deepest truth of you and when I am done, you take me to the next field. I know I won’t see what happens to the seed, but I don’t need to. I’m quite happy to be the one scattering them about and then stepping onto the train to head to the next field. I am hoping there will be a trail of flowers and life I leave behind.”

“Do you miss home?”

“No. I miss that face-to-face time with people I love to talk to instead of having to use e-mail or Facebook and I miss meaningful touch but that is it. I am in Europe and my mind is here, my thoughts are here. I am living in this moment, this time and place. This is the work I am given to do. For now, this is my life and I am happy in that.”

“Are we going to be seeing more blog posts from you?”

“Most definitely and far more often! The first half of the trip has been very different from the second. The first half had many days when I was out and about from morning to night and the second half I am free for many of the evenings and on trains much more often. This gives me a lot more time to write which is great because I have several good blog posts on the way.”

“Where are you going next?”

“I am heading to London for a few hours to tour Friends House and see friends who work there and then I’m taking a train north to Birmingham for the Quakers Uniting in Publications Conference. I’m looking forward to the writing workshops and specified writing time. I also hear the grounds are beautiful. It should be a rich time.”

“Thank you for the gift of your time. It’s been interesting to talk with you as it always is. I love hearing what is on your mind and I’m sure our readers will as well.”

“Thanks for the great talk God. I always love confiding in you, you really listen and ask good questions. And I’m really glad you’re on this journey with me. You absolutely fascinate me with all you’re teaching me. If I could ask one thing, please use me to bless those around me. Let them feel you inside of me. That would be to me great joy.”

And so our traveling minister continues to walk the world, praying the message I have given her is somehow communicated to wherever she is being sent. I know for a fact she would appreciate your continued prayers and occasional messages as she begins the second half of her journey. I am with you all.

How the Lion Learned to Roar

I was sitting tonight in business meeting as the Europe and Middle East Section of FWCC made nominations for the needed committees while we’re here in Herzberg, Switzerland. It’s often interesting to see how other Quakers besides my own meeting do business as my meeting is, admittedly, of a different variety, particularly as it relates to time and business conducted. Our meetings tend to be very simple, straightforward and as many of us were not brought up Quaker, they are pretty quick as well. One day, our pastor hopes we will have something truly controversial to discuss to see how we handle it, controversial being a deeply relative term for our church, but as of yet, this has not come to be. So I sit in the business meetings of other groups of Friends, observing the differences and the similarities in relation to what I know.

As an example, here in Europe, when agreeing on an item of business, they say, “hope so” whereas at home we would say, “affirmed”. Not understanding what everyone was saying, I asked my neighbor and she later inquired if I was a new Quaker. I told her I wasn’t but explained that different groups of Friends in America reply in business meetings in different ways. It’s a truth important for us all to remember: the ways we know are not everyone’s ways. We are all different. This has been very apparent this trip.

After business meeting, the clerk ran though the schedule for the next morning. This year, the Europe and Middle East Section of FWCC, the Europe and Middle East Young Adult Friends, and the Executive Committee are all meeting together. I’m not sure of the exact number, but there are over 80 Friends from all over the world here in Herzberg. Some things on our schedules are all together and some are separate. Since I had only seen the Young Adult schedule, I had assumed that the morning session where I will be speaking with four other people from around the world reflecting on four questions was only going to be with the young adults. Apparently not. It’s one of the times when we are all together.

It’s probably a good thing we had a bit of quiet after that announcement because what was going through my head was something along the lines of, “All eighty? All these weighty Friends whom I respect from so many countries? (Breathing.) Okay...” My reaction reminded me, on a somewhat smaller scale, of what I felt in Kenya when I was told I would be speaking first thing in the morning to 1,200 people. With this history, it wouldn’t surprise me if I was first up. Although that can be good when they have no one to compare you to yet! But right on the heels of this first thought came the second. I’ve already spoken to 1,200 people and as Ruth so beautifully whispered to me before I went up that day, “If you can talk in front of them, you can talk in front of anybody!” But more than this encouragement, that morning had already given me strength that changed me forever. Strength I know will be flowing through me tomorrow.

What happened that morning on the drive to the Kenya youth conference, something I have never written publicly about, is a conversation between God and I in the front seat of the van. I was praying for wisdom and that God would supply me with the right words to say and the ability to say them without a translator to such a large audience. I wasn’t nervous about the speaking or even the number of people in the audience, I was quivering a bit inside because of God’s trust in me to speak to so many. But what God told me are words I will forever treasure, words that still bring me to my knees in tears: “You were right.” I knew exactly what was meant. All those times people told me they didn’t see me in ministry, that they wouldn’t put me up in front of an audience, or didn’t believe in my abilities as a speaker, though I knew without a doubt that is what I was born to do, I was indeed right the whole time. God then told me, “Go and take your rightful place,” which filled me with visions of Simba walking up Pride Rock to take his rightful place at the end of The Lion King. I took that microphone that morning with a steady hand, an iron rod of steel strength up my back which has never left. Around my neck was a lion’s tooth hanging on a beaded necklace, a necklace that will also be around my neck tomorrow. A lion is a special image between God and I and I sometimes wear this necklace to remind myself of the truths I’ve been taught.

So tomorrow morning I am going to walk up there to the front of the room and share with them what I have to say. I am going to be strong and courageous for the Lord my God is with me wherever I go, the Mighty Lion who taught this lion how to roar.

Speaking in Kenya at the youth conference

The Road to Herzberg

So how long do you think it will take before the people here realize they are being blogged about?  Most here don't know who I am yet (it won't take long) and don't know I'm a blogger so I'll be able to get away with some things until they do.  The house church I go to have never figured it out. 

I arrived here in Switzerland tonight from Dusseldorf, Germany after taking four trains and one bus.  The bus dropped Marielke and I off on a hillside next to a road going further up a hill.  There wasn't anything else there, just a sign pointing to "Herzberg".   I wish life was that simple!  Being able to follow such complex directions, we started our ascent up into the stars for there were many all around us.  It was extraordinarily beautiful.  I looked for my dear friend Orion but didn't see him shining his light.  Since he was the only constelation I recognized while I was in Kenya, he has become a special friend no matter where I go.  

Some of the other Young Adult Friends already here met us partway up the hill and helped us with our luggage.  One girl took my backpack, though she may have immediately regretted that choice, for after about 20 meters higher in elevation, I heard her say to the people behind me, "This bag is heavy!" and I shouted back down, "You're telling me!"  I'm glad they laughed.  It is a heavy bag but it is for five and half weeks of travel and I have multiple copies of five different books in there.  (If you are someone I will see during this trip, please buy them.  I really would like a lighter bag.)

Finally we arrived at our intended row of lighted windows.  (It was dark so I couldn't see much else.)  Inside we're several young adults who introduced themselves including people from Russia, Norway, Germany, and Britain.  Truth be told, and this is a private confession so don't tell anybody I said this, but I am a little nervous.  Walking into a room full of strangers from a diverse array of countries and no one from yours is a little intimidating.  But hopefully, you would never know that by looking at me. 

Earlier tonight before we arrived they had a worship sharing where they opened up with their hopes and fears for the conference.  My hope is I represnet Spirit Rising in a way that honors what we dream of for the book, the reality that it is, and honors all those people who put so much energy into making sure it became a reality you could hold and read.  I also hope they like me.  I guess everyone is hoping that.  My fear is I won't represent the book well or even myself.  But fear is not of the Lord and if he called me here, he has equipped me to meet the task!  Just as Martin Luther put it so well, "Here I stand.  I can do no other."

One Young Woman came up to me while I was in one of the main rooms and introduced herself as someone who contributed to Spirit Rising.  I asked her which piece she wrote for the book.  Having read it four times, I recognize many of them if described.  When she told which it was, I had to smile and I shared with her that her piece was one of the ones I regularly read to groups when giving a presentation about the book.  (That was fun to tell her that!)  For those of you who have heard one of my presentations, it's the poem about silence. 

Coming to this conference marks a definate change on this trip.  Up to now, I have only been in front of an audience for a few hours at a time but now I will be representing the book to international Friends around the clock for the next couple of days.  This is more demanding and involves better self-care.  On the upside, it will also give me more time to write here.

It will be very interesting to see what happens tomorrow. 

(I apologize for any misspellings.  I have tried my best to spell words correctly but the back up spell checker thinks I speak Swedish since I'm  in Switzerland.  It is certain nearly all the words are spelled wrong.)

Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Part 3

It is Sunday morning and Vivian and I have to catch the train to Der Haague for meeting. As breakfast went a bit long, we booked it to the station (walking very fast). Blessedly, Vivian is a gentleman and took my bag for me leaving me with my smaller bag and sleeping bag Hetty lent me. And though my leg is better now, it is still a very fast walk and my legs are aching from the exercise of the last week. Still, for twenty minutes we hurry along the canal with Vivian apologizing near the end, telling me he has been told he is a very fast walker. I reply, “Yes. You are. But we are in a hurry” and he agrees.  I want to stop and God blessedly gives us a reason when Vivian shows me a blue herron from two yards away. " Thank you God for the little break!" I think to myself.  After taking a train and then hurrying to a tram, we arrive at meeting a little late but are there in one piece. Afterward, Marielke and I take the two bikes to the supermarket then her flat while Fritz takes my big bag on the tram. After resting (thank you!), they ask if I would like to go the beach. YES!!! What they don’t tell me is that it is over five miles away. (I am sure this was a part of the phone calls in Dutch.)  I have never biked that far before and haven’t been on a bike on a regular basis in ten years. I only tell them this later. Occasionally, Marielke or Fritz come along side me in pity and help push me up the hills.  (Do not tell this to the other boot camp commanders.)  In all, we bike 14.1 miles around Der Hague. Dinner never tasted so good.

Today I can’t even tell you how many miles I have walked between the power walk to the tram and then all around Dusseldorf.  I have been learning to just keep putting one foot in front of another and that when they say, "around the corner," they mean several blocks down the street.

So now you too know why weight is such a rare problem here in Europe and why it feels like I’m in boot camp. But I have to give credit where credit is due. Though my friends came up with this fun game of pushing Sarah beyond what she thought she could do, they have been there every step of the way encouraging and pushing and looking behind to make sure I’m keeping up. If not for them, I would have missed trains, taken more breaks, not gone as far, and, truth be told, not had nearly as much fun. A challenge to be certain but one that has been entirely worth it. God has been using the community around me to bring me father than I thought I could go, to do more than I thought I could ever accomplish. It expands my belief in myself. It is helping me understand on a deeper level the value of community: they bring you to more than yourself, or help you know better the strength within yourself.  Even the hard parts of ministry can be fun.So, yes, it’s boot camp but I can do it! 

(Since each stage gets successively harder, if I don’t come back from Switzerland, please send someone in after me. I’ll be the one panting by the road in a heap, a large red backpack squishing me down.)

Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Part 2

Delft is a beautiful town and the village just outside of it, Den Hoorn, is a lovely little village. The day after I arrive, Vivian lends me a bike and we bike from where he lives in Den Hoorn to the train station in Delft. Though we get on the same train (translation: so I could get on the right one), he gets off in Leiden and I continue on to Amsterdam where I will be spending the day. Amsterdam’s main city center is a spider web of canals radiating out from the train station. It’s quite extraordinary. On my list are three places I really want to see and wouldn’t you know it? They are in three very different places along the spider web of canals. But today I decide to save my feet. I spot a hop on/hop off canal tour that has four lines going through the canals and you can get off at various spots to go see things nearby. It was the canal ride for me. Best euros I've ever spent. I’m not even sure I would have been able to see all three places without it. (What those three were is for another post.)  Heading back to Den Hoorn, I managed to find the right trains but got lost bicycling in the village. A group of older folk saved me on this one as they lent me a phone to call Vivian. I learned enough to have his phone number on hand but not his address. Go figure.

The next day was a simple matter of walking, trains, and biking which by this point, I was used to. I think that is when my friends made some secret phone calls in Dutch and decided to see just how far the American can go.  And so a new week in European boot camp began.

Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Part 1

Many people have wished me well on this trip and commented on what a wonderful time I must be having and indeed I am.  Just last night I got to watch the sun set over the rooftops of Dusseldorf, Germany and it was a beautiful sight.  The talks so far have gone very well and Friends here have been very welcoming and kind.  However, on a trip like this, there are also times of stress and of striving to meet difficult challenges when you want to stop and take a break.  There are times when you are tired, at your end, and wounded.  This too, is a part of traveling in the ministry and also, an important one to talk about.  Adjusting to a different way of life can sometimes take more than you think you have.  Coming from an area where people usually drive to get where they want to go, the physical demands of being in Europe has probably been the most difficult for me thus far, not to mention getting where I need to go while not understanding the language.  Thus, I wrote this post to honor the difficult parts we all have when traveling in the ministry.   It is probably the part I will learn from the most.

__________________________________________

So, you all want to know what Europe is like. I’ll tell you. Boot camp. It’s just like boot camp, except with better food. Even after just nine days, I have been put through the paces and I now know why seeing an overweight person is an extremely rare sight in Europe.

I am beginning to suspect the friends I am staying with got together and planned this out before I arrived because boot camp has come in succeeding stages, each calling for more endurance and energy than the last.

When I was staying with Simon, they went relatively easy on me. After all, I was a very green recruit and they opted to break me in gently. Simon had a car so he picked us up and dropped us off at the train stations. However, I still had to manage the tube as my first challenge. You may be thinking, “But Sarah, even I know the tube is the name for the underground trains in London. How strenuous is it to sit on a train?” If you are asking that question, you have obviously never been to London. Yes, it is pretty easy to sit on the tube but you have to first get to the tube and getting to the right tube station and then the right platform involves a maze of tunnels, stairs, enormous escalators, and lifts. Then once you are in London, you are on your feet the whole time and the city is extensive. I can’t even imagine how many miles I walked in London alone.

When I went to stay with Hetty, things got a little harder. Hetty lives about a fifteen minute walk from the nearest tube station. The neighborhood in Tufnell Park is quite beautiful but Hetty had to draw me a map so I could figure out all the turns to get to her flat. So now I had the walk to and from the tube plus the tube plus walking around London. Doing that is when I strained a muscle. (At least, that is what I am guessing I did.) Wounded, but I survived Stage 2.

At this point, they up the ante a couple of levels for Stage 3. I wish they didn’t have such faith in me and my level of endurance. Let me tell it to you from the perspective of working through it:

First, with the heavy weight of my bag (and I thought I packed pretty light!) on my back, I walk to the tube, catch the Northern Line to St. Pancreas Train Station, find my way through there, get through the border checks and onto the Eurostar which takes me to Brussels. Now, for the second time in my life, first time on my own, I am in a country that doesn’t speak my language and all the signs are either in French, Flemish, or Dutch, none of which I understand. I manage with some Euros my mother gave me to get change for the loo, use the loo, then find the section of the station for the Metro. Finding people who speak a bit of English, I manage to get on the right one, then make the correct transfer. From there I have to find my way to Friend’s House though fortunately, I had looked at a map of the location in the US so I find my way. Still, carrying all my stuff makes this quite a bit more of a challenge and by the time I arrive at Friends House, I drop my stuff on the floor and sink down into a chair while John hurries to the sink for a glass of water to revive me which I gratefully accept.

After walking around Brussels, I reload my bags onto my back and set off for the grueling trip to the Netherlands. First, I take the wrong street and so have to ask for help to find my way to the station. Then, instead of simply reversing what I did that morning, I have to find a different station. Ideally, this will be easier but I don’t know the language and I have no sense of direction in this city. Two people tell me this is the right Metro, one person says it is not. I go with the majority. The majority is wrong. So now I am on the wrong train with no map of the metro trying to find my way back with all the signs in Flemish. By now, if not quite a bit earlier, people can hear the desperation in my voice. With their help, I find my way to the right station, and after a time, the right train to Delft. Now you think my stress would be over, but no, there are two stations in Delft. Which one am I supposed to be at? I decide on the main one but my friend is not there to meet me. Did I choose the right one? Should I find a train to the other? By this time I am an inch from sitting down and crying. This is quite stressful! I neglected to write down his address and phone number, it’s in my e-mail which I do not have access to nor do I have a phone. I sit down on a bench, put my stuff beside me, and take a shaky breath. Deciding to try for internet anyway, I find you can pay for internet. Though expensive, I decide it is worth it and I get the phone number then call my friend on a kind man’s phone. When my friend comes to get me, he asks how I am doing and that is when the tears finally win the battle. Wisely, he takes my bag from me and we walk home and he and his wife feed me. It seems I hit the wall after 5-7 days in boot camp of the foreign country variety, typically after a stressful day trying to get somewhere on my own. I know from past experience, it gets better from here. And, after all, I did manage to get myself from Hetty’s to Vivian’s passing through three countries so I am rather proud of myself. However, little did I know this was just the test that would launch me into Stage 4 of European Boot Camp.

How Small a World is It?

John and I had arrived back at the Friends House in Brussels after he showed me around the Grand Place and nearby environs. Paul, who had not been at his desk when John had introduced me around to the staff that morning stood up to greet me and when he found out where I was from, he said to me, “Let’s find out just how small a world this is. Do you know this person? She is from Oregon too and I’ve been reading her blog about a trip to Africa she took last year. A friend of mine went too but she had a lot more information.”

I ask, “Has she changed the background?”

“Yes, she has changed it recently.”

“That would be me.”

“Wow! It IS a small world!”

By this time, the whole office is cracking up. It’s a small world after all.

You Know this Painting?

 

"What did you say about that painting, Simon?" I ask from across the small wooden gallery.
"It was painted here."
"REALLY?"
"You know this painting?" he asks in surprise.

"Of course!" Hugh and I exclaim together.

I join them over by the stairs for a closer look.  I know the painting well but I have never stopped to look closely at the architectual details but when I do, my jaw drops to the floor.  It WAS painted here.  Oh my gosh.  Are you kidding me? How amazing is that?  All the details are there, down to the spindles on the back of the bench.  Simon suggests going downstairs for a picture and that perhaps, when we develop the film, Christ will be seen standing beside us.

Hugh, who is from Ireland, Emily, who is from London, and I take our places on the facing bench looking out into the room just like in the painting, trying to look worshipful while grinning inside.  After taking the photos, we actually do sit there for a while in quiet before heading outside, to take in and try to hear the voices of all those who had worshiped there throughout several centuries including many of George Fox's original followers. It felt rather like stepping through some magical doorway into a world you have only dreamed about but is now very real.

Being one of the oldest meeting houses, just think of all the words those walls have heard.  At the time we were there, there was a talk going on in another room about how a building is infused with what has gone on within it, that there is an unseen memory.  What kind of memory does Jordans Friends Meeting have?  To me, it felt sacred, hallowed, as if I was entering into a larger circle of living fellowship beyond what my hands could grasp.  The Friends there must feel the same way because that belief is illustrated in how they laid out their graveyard.  The gravestones may be very simple, but the truth they stand for is simpler still,  yet it reaches down to the depths of living testimoney.

The gravestones are set up as in meeting, the people burried there are still listening to the voice of God.  Alive in a deeper sense than we are, we sat with them in meeting, hoping to catch a bit of what they were hearing, the words that were transforming them so they might transform us too.  Can you imagine the reality they live in?  They are listening to God far better than we.  Seeing the gravestones like that tells me that death doesn't stop us from being in God's presence.  It doesn't stop their community nor the holding of their light together.   They may not be present in the meeting house as they are pictured in the painting, gone from the building and moved outside, but they left behind truth and love that will never leave, that you can almost sense around you when you sit where they have been. 

They may be there in the graveyard, but the truths of their lives rise far above the grass that covers them, it goes on sharing with us that we are all in a cirlce, a community going far beyond denomination, beyond being Quakers, reminding us of a deeper commonality of all being in relationship with God and thus in relationship with each other, smaller circles inside larger circles.  Maybe if someone painted us in the graveyard, they could paint all the people sitting in the circle with Christ in the center, smiling at this wide community of friends.