Nourishing Those Nuggets

When I was a little girl I lived a city neighborhood of multi-family homes.  Up the street lived an elderly woman that had lost her husband and only daughter many years before.  My family “adopted” her as their own and she became the grandparent I never had.  She joined us on holidays, family vacations, and often “popped in” during the week.  She was one of those truly “good” people – always having a kind word for and about everyone.  My sister likes to say that she’s the only person that she’s absolutely sure is in heaven.  It was Mrs. Pound that first planted those “seeds of faith” (I like to call them nuggets.) in my inner core.  I have wonderful memories of walking to early morning weekday Mass with her, reveling in the quiet solitude of the nearly empty church.  As a child the sameness of the Latin chants and the smell of incense was somehow comforting.  Later we’d return to her “flat” for a breakfast of tea and toast.

I attended parochial school, got along famously with the nuns (I was a good little girl) and decided that my calling was to enter the convent.  I even asked my mother at one point if I could go live with the sisters.  Well, all inclinations towards a spiritual calling disappeared as I neared the teenage years.  My family moved to Connecticut, public school was very different, and life seemed so much more complicated!  There were boys and dances and a social life to think about!   Going to church on Sundays became no more than a required ritual.  Those nuggets planted by Mrs. Pound (and my mother in other ways) kept popping up, however!  Even through high school and college, I still enjoyed an early morning weekday Mass during Lent and a mid-afternoon visit to church where I could pray and reflect in quiet solitude.  It was Sunday services that left me cold.  I rarely went during my first marriage.

Years later, when Bob and I decided to marry, my mother’s pastor referred us to Berlin Congregational Church.  We did find a home for a while.  We committed ourselves to attending Sunday services; after all we had three children that required religious training.  There was something half-hearted about my effort, though.  Overwhelmed by a demanding job, and raising three children, I neglected to nourish those “nuggets”.  After the children completed Confirmation requirements, Bob and I started using Sunday mornings for long walks and breakfast with friends.  My spiritual growth was stymied, but something kept tugging at those “nuggets”.

Bob began to heed the voice inside of him first.  He turned to reading scripture and began to suggest that we “try out” neighboring Congregational churches.  We were nearly ready to join the Burlington church where we lived, when, as an afterthought, we came to a service here.  After that very first sermon, we turned to each other and said, “He’s talking about me!”   Something had caused those nuggets to stir!

Well, it took us a long time to get involved.  At first we ran out after service to get to all those “important” things we had to do on Sunday.  But Bob, my mentor, was getting more and more involved in the Bible.  We encouraged each other to sign up for a short Bible study specifically on Peter.  It was during Lent.  How much more meaningful it made our Easter season!  Then my mother passed away.  I needed comforting; I needed solace; I needed to grieve.  Gordon stood beside me.  In fact his voice became so linked to grieving and comfort for me that for months afterwards whenever I heard him speak, I broke into tears.

Bob’s early morning rituals with the Bible influenced me.  We made the leap and committed to the yearlong Disciple course.  Next came retreats and mission trips.  On the first trip I was overjoyed by my opportunity to view the cloak of Juan Diego hanging in the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico City.  The brilliance of her image embedded in this cloak inspired faith and awe in me that was life changing.  The feeling of God’s presence here and throughout that Mexico trip pervaded my inner being.

Later, it was through the Companions in Christ program that I established my own spiritual practices.  I think those quiet moments of spiritual reading and reflection were what I had longed for all along.  That’s what made those “nuggets” planted deeply so long ago by Mrs. Pound come to life and explode.  I found my relationships enriched, especially with my husband.  Life became simpler somehow – almost like those early days as a child in parochial school.  I feel I’m better able now to put aside those nagging everyday problems and consider the bigger picture.  Perhaps that’s due to age and changing priorities, but I also believe it’s a result of getting in touch with my own spirituality in those quiet moments set aside for reading, reflection, and prayer.  It takes me back to the peacefulness of that quiet church with Mrs. Pound by my side so many years ago.

I’d like to think that others see the wholeness in me now.  I know my husband does.  Perhaps the children are beginning to see glimmers.  For I long to encourage our children, grandchildren, relatives, friends and you, our church family, to nourish those “nuggets” deep in your core.  I hope that somewhere you’ve had or will have a Mrs. Pound in your life.