Reflections of Broom Tree

Driving 92 mph down the highway to the small rural community where the retreat facility was located, I repeated the mantra in my head, "do not be late", "Do Not Be Late", "DO NOT BE LATE".  I chastised myself for cutting the time so close. If only I hadn't taken that last question at the office.  If only I had left the dog at my sister's before I went into work.  If only.

Broom Tree is one of those activities I avoided for seven years.  It took three guys and the plea of an administrative assistant to whom I owed more than a few favors before I decided enough was enough and submitted the requisite application to be part of the seventh class - lucky number seven.

In the last seven years, most participants shared the following with me about their time at retreat: 1) technology is deeply frowned upon - best keep your smart phone in your pocket on silent; 2) expect to have your Christmas ruined; and 3) never, ever, ever be late. 

Skating in at five minutes before the official start time, I was close to breaking rule number 3.  My mother would have been gravely disappointed in me if I had been late.  Why?  Because she taught me respect, respect for time, respect for rules, respect for faith traditions.  Her construct, which she passed along to me, was every person, as a child of God, was deserving of respect.

The sponsoring Sisters are, on the barometer of my respect scale, pretty close to the tippy top.  They represent to me, the single, educated, mature woman and the collective shoulders on which I have been lifted and the role models of individualism and community that demonstrate how to be present.

If there is one thing I shall remember about Broom Tree and one thing that I will take with me where ever I may go is the importance of being present.  Present in the moment.  Present in the conversation.  Present during the meal.  Present.  I have come to believe that is one, but not the only, reason why technology is so deeply frowned upon.  It is also why being on time is revered.  It doesn't explain the Christmas part but I will go into that later.

Staff back at the office has nicknamed Broom Tree "rehab".  As in, "she's headed to rehab so get your questions answered before she takes off on Thursday morning." Amusing? Yes.  In a way, perhaps it is rehab. Come out stronger, better, clearer, whatever your word might be, than when you started. 

I have thoroughly enjoyed the history, the context and the discussions surrounding the Bible.  Lost in the modern era is the underlying truth that this is a book, many books and letters actually, written not as a historical retelling of how the earth was created (easy to understand in the face of modern day science), or how a virgin gave birth (a popular point in Bill Mahar's Christianity as mythology argument).   We forget, probably for our own internal and societal needs, that the Bible is literature, a confluence of oral traditions, legends, myths, parables and allegories among other writing styles to relate an understanding of God and God's relationship with us.  Reading it in a 21st century world with a 21st century frame of reference becomes overwhelming at best and misinterpreted at worst (leading to wars and social peril).  It also gives rise to challenging modern images of the nativity scene, hence the "ruining" of Christmas commentary. 

Jesus the innocent. Without sin? By my definition of sin? Couldn't say.  Did he even understand his divinity while on earth?  Would he have that capacity having come in human form?   What does life to death to life take?  How are we to define our faith in a world where atheism is the largest growing segment of belief in our American society? Are we simply birds resting on the branch of our faith?

The "who are the birds" and "who is the branch" line isn't mine.  I borrow it from the film "Of Gods and Men". a real life story of the Algerian monks killed in 1996.  They are portrayed in this film filled with powerful moments.  I've ruminated over that scene dozens of times.  The monks, knowing that if they stay they would most surely face death, grapple with the decision of to stay or to go.  The lead monk says to the villagers, "we are but birds on a branch".  And a woman of the village interjects, "but you are our branch and we are the birds.  What will happen to us if you leave?" 

How many of us have been faced with that question?  You feel like a bird, but you are in a very real sense the branch.  I've seen families where the matriarch, is the branch for the entire family tree.  I ask the same question at work - bird or branch?  If I am to be a branch, then I must do all I can to be a strong one.  There are many families who depend on it. 
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Taking a part of Broom Tree back to work, friends and home has been the experience's bonus round.  From other year's participants, I didn't hear the stories about the infancy narrative or the combo big bang/creation story or the differences in the writing styles of Luke and Matthew. I took back those stories and weaved them into the fabric of conversation.  I didn't realize its effect until our controller shared the parable of the field workers through the eyeglass of social justice and equity in providing counsel to a staff member.  What I have had the opportunity to bring back to work, to family, and to friends has left them asking, "Where can I go for this?"

We have absolutely no programming in our society to allow an individual the opportunity to discuss faith traditions in a non-judgmental venue.  I'm not saying debate should be shunned.  I'm just saying how fun it is to ask questions, mentally challenge the answers and know that there may not be a right answer.

The challenge of Broom Tree isn't balancing time away from the office with time spent there, weekends make up for the deadlines that can't be missed.  The challenge of Broom Tree is bringing to balance the work with the mission.  I've worked in the private sector, the public sector, for profit and not for profit.  It is different here, and maintaining that difference in an era of margins, regulatory change and generational transformation is easier said than done.

Technology provides the advantage of "finger tip" information.  To be an "A" student, is to master the numbers, the information and the technology.  Rarely is an "A" student defined by their mastery of the mission.  That mastery of the mission is the challenge of Broom Tree.

I am amused as I channel surf on a Sunday morning.  A television pastor will speak to a verse in Matthew and I will immediately consider the context of the passage and its writing in a framework of two thousand years ago.  This isn't something that I would have done before Broom Tree. 

I have learned that the "Kingdom of God" is not for the hereafter in the sweet bye and bye.  It is here, and it is now.  Broom Tree changes everything.

Reflections of a Friend

Timothy Alan Pedersen, Tim, Timmie, Zima – oh how you have left a lasting impression on all of us. 

Most everyone remembers the first time they met Tim and I am confident everyone remembers the first time they met Zima.  He was a memorable character. 

For me it was a December business lunch at Theo’s.   I believe it was Kate who I asked that day to tell me “who did their beautiful Christmas tree”.  It had this amazing cornice of pheasant feathers crowning its top.  I thought, who would put pheasant feathers in a tree?  Tim would. 

Christmas was a time when there simply wasn’t enough Tim to go around.   He talked about “Tim’s Trim A Tree” service.  The more of everything the better…  more lights, more bulbs, more feathers, more trees, more trips to Hobby Lobby.   Perhaps if he could have started decorating for us all in April, he could have kept up with our demand.  

He was just that good.  I remember one year attempting to decorate my tree on my own.   I had all kinds of florals: hydrangias, lilies, passion flowers – I decided if Tim could do it, I could do it too.  I threw in the towel after four hours, called and asked him to stop over on his way out for the evening.  It took him ten minutes to make a masterpiece out of my mess.   And his parting comment was, “promise me next time you will call me first.” 

The year his tree won the “Most Elegant” at the Festival of Trees, he took his “favorite girl” as his date that night.  He picked out her red suit, her hose, her shoes, styled her hair and did her make up.  Folks thought he and his mom came from New York for the event – they looked great together.  And he would say all night long, “can you believe this woman is fifty?”  “Doesn’t she look hot?”    

He had no problem telling his women friends.  “You look hot” or “vavavavoom” or “giiiiiirrrlll mmmm you got it going on” or my favorite “you look amazing and that man is one damn fool”.    

Everyone needs a Tim in their life.  Someone you accept simply for who they are.  Someone who accepts you simply for who you are.  Someone who takes you on an adventure.  And Tim could make going to the grocery store an adventure.

For me the adventure would be to the furniture or hardware store.  Most everyone knows he did much of the interior and exterior work for my home.  He painted my walls bright green and red, the ceilings yellow and lime.  He glued paper bags to my kitchen floor and we laughed until we were escorted out of Loews on one occasion. 

Out of the many things I will miss about Tim, it will be wandering the aisles of the big box hardware stores.  His smart and clever wit with the clerks immediately endeared him to them.  His confidence that his way was ALWAYS the right way when it came to home improvement left me with a beautiful and unusual home, a much lighter pocketbook and more than a few stories of compromise. 

Tim would make sure that the staff announced him to me “as your decorator is on line two”.  He did a beautiful job restoring the home he and Steve shared on 2^nd Avenue but when it wasn’t ready in time for a photo shoot he had pre-arranged, I came back from a four o’clock meeting with a note from Tim tucked by my phone.  It read, “My house won’t be done in time for the magazine’s photo shoot tomorrow, I’m going to bring them to your house instead.  Don’t worry. Yours will be ready in time.”  

Don’t worry.  That was a favorite Tim line.  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it done, when have I ever not gotten it done?”  And he usually did, although our timelines might not have always aligned perfectly.

In the last few days, his family has shared pictures and stories of Tim as a boy with me.  He was a beautiful little boy with a grin and eyes that still shined three decades later with their non chalant, devil may care attitude, breathlessly fearless at times.  

Whether it was swimming in the ditches with his older siblings when the snow melted in the Spring, or snatching green apples from the trees to eat in the Fall when he knew they would make him sick, or helping in the recovery efforts during the 1989 San Francisco earthquake while his Navy ship was docked in the Bay, Tim was Tim.  Present in the moment, helpful too, his humor and quick wit always stood ready to serve. 

Yet his life was a testament that facing differences and adversity could indeed make one stronger but it did not come without pain.

As a gay man, he was saddened that he could not legally marry or have children of his own.  He was deeply hurt when others would use words that would disrespect the very basic human dignity that all God’s children are endowed with.

He paid special attention to his nieces and nephews – their wellbeing were thoughts closest to his heart.

For his dogs Sonny and Charlie, they became his kids – a source of centering for him.     

And then one night while he was sleeping, his partner Eric submitted an application for him to work for the postal service.  Who would’ve thought that the post office would have been such a great fit for Tim? He loved that job.  And he was so proud to wear the uniform.   He walked over 4000 miles in just under two years each one of them marked on his smart phone app.

He felt that his life would not be long in years, so he knew that he had to put a lot of life into those years.  We talked about it on more than one occasion.  It was hard to hear the news last Thursday when it was delivered because his life was so very full at its end.  He had his new home near the Cathedral.   His relationship with Eric.  A career that he loved and a true sense of pride in all that he was accomplishing.

So on the morning of April 12, 2012, after his morning coffee, the angels surrounded him and stayed with him giving him wings to fly, a place to stand and watch over those he cared for here and a paintbrush to color heaven in the palate of a rainbow. 

Goodbye Tim for now, we will miss you, we will remember you and we are proud of you.