Interview with the Rev. Wendy S. Howe
Wendy Howe, Assisting Clergy, interviewed on 10/13/20: “I have the Bible, I have prayer, I have poetry, I have music. When I'm anxious, I cling into those things. But they are not a magic bullet, I must say.”
“I remember the reality that the world was changing really hit for me on March 14th, which was the Saturday before sheltering in place. And the way it hit was that I realized that the library was going to close and that was huge and shocking and horrifying.
“And so at that point, the library was at Holman's, so I raced over to that little library …and they have a section there that is just new books.
“I got a stack of seven or eight books. Right. ‘Well, I'm almost there.’ Yeah. What a joke that was. And then a few days later, when things became official, I was thrust along with everyone else into that whole new world.
“Where my all my anxiety went was that we couldn't find any of the kind of bread I like at the store. And I bake bread. So that's easy. But all my yeast had expired. And I didn't have a lot of flour and I went from store to store with my little mask on. No flour, no yeast. And when I found that my son was having the same problem up in San Francisco, I found some sourdough starter. So I ordered him some and I ordered me some. And here came the sourdough starter, which I found to be a big pain in the neck, that I had to feed it. And the funny thing is, I don't like sourdough bread, but I was making all these sourdough things because I had it . . .
“I think [it] was a real blessing, that we were in the middle of Lent, that there was a church season that seemed to match what was happening in in my life and in the life of the world. And then our own dear altar guild, I remember when you all sent the email saying there'll be palm fronds. It makes me weep a little. There'll be palm fronds in the front porch along with hand sanitizer. And I so happily went in and claimed my palm fronds. And then you, Karin, urged us to make those home altars. Oh, those palm fronds went into that. That was huge. And then St Mary's website would have pictures of the various altars. It was so moving and I felt so close to my friends at St. Mary's during that time. And then there were so many Zoom services on Palm Sunday and Holy Week. Maundy Thursday. And Good Friday and Easter. So I look back and it seems like in the midst of a hard time it was a very holy time.
“And then after Easter, you know, like at sea. You know what I realized? We didn't know how long this was going to go, but we had to kind of settle into it. But the big thing was that my parents demanded that all of their four children write a long family letter, like three typewritten pages, at least every other week. And we had to, to my parents and to one another. And to the older cousins. And when my parents died, all of those letters I had written came back to me.
‘So it was like 50 years’ worth of letters, and it kind of ended in the early aughts. So I went through those and when that ended, there was a real sense of loss, like that project was over. I went to 10:00 Zoom Church. I did my daily meditations and read the prayer book and the Bible and took walks. And I read all those books and started in on Kindle books. Until my first Danish great-grandchild was born. Oh, yeah. He came on July 7th. A sweet little boy.”
“What is hard for me about the pandemic? Of course, I miss seeing friends and I miss the library and I miss going for coffee. And we aren't big movie goers. But I miss the movie theater. I really miss singing in church. And I worry about my kids.
“They were all trying to figure out how to how to do homeschooling with their kids and work full time. And the little ones were three and five and a ten year old. They were so stressed.
“And there's nothing that I could do but be a good listening ear.
“And what I think about my own emotional life during that time is that I just stayed steady. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, doing what needed to be done, making good decisions. Being there for other people.
“But then, you know, I would hit a rough spot. I remember fairly early on having a week that was just awful. And then I read a post from a clergy friend of mine who said when she was doing something with kids in Europe who were study abroad students. And she said that on about day forty five they all realized they weren’t in the United States anymore. That life was going to be kind of hard. And, you know, they all kind of had a crisis. And I looked at my calendar and it was pretty much day forty. I thought, OK, this is normal. And then other times I'd just be listening to a YouTube song. And I’d just burst into tears. So I’d say, oh, oh, there are some tears in there. I didn't feel like I was not crying other times, but something like that would set me off. And then, besides the Bible and music, poetry seemed really important to me. There was there is a poem by a guy named John O'Donohue that starts out,
This is the time to be slow.
Lie low to the wall until the bitter weather passes.
“I would say the hardest time for me was during the fires because I was worried about my kids, some of whom have asthma, up in Oregon. Then, we all shared this. You just look out the window and you know that things are horrible. And I was worried about my own asthma. My little grandson, I think nine, up in Oregon said to his mother. Is this the end of the world? Oh, my gosh. It's cute. And it's also heartbreaking.
“I said if I believed in a in a vengeful God, I’d think he was really mad at us. It felt like it. Like the universe was just out to get us, you know.
“But then I appreciate that I long ago realized that gratitude is the antidote to most everything and that the Bible always has something wonderful to say. And the music is always there.
“Besides regular worship on Zoom, there is something called Lectio Lunch on Wednesdays in which we look at the Bible passage is coming up for the follow for the coming up Sunday. That's a small and mighty group of us who gather there.
“What would I like to do that I’m not doing now? I think I'm easy prey. It would be nice to be back together. I'm not in any big hurry because we're in the high risk group. I'll be among the last to come in into the church. I mean, there’s communion. When I think about that, I get a little weepy, but I'm 76. I can wait.
“I’ve waited for things in my life. I'd like to see my kids now more than anything I would say. I mean, it isn't a big deal not to go to the library.
“Maybe the thing that really has surprised me the most is what I was just talking about.
This poem starts out,
“This is the time to be slow.”
And when I say that, “lie low to the wall until the bitter weather passes,” it makes me feel like weeping.
This is the time to be slow.
Lie low to the wall until the bitter weather passes.
Try as best you can
Not to let the wire brush of doubt scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself and your hesitant might.
If you remain generous, time will come good.
And you will find your feet on the fresh pastures of promise
where the air will be kind and blushed with beginning.
“When I'm not anxious, I think, Well, I know how to deal with that. You know, I have the Bible, I have prayer, I have poetry, I have music. But when I'm anxious, I cling into those things. But they are not a magic bullet, I must say.
“When it says, ‘Try not to let the wire brush of doubt, scrape from your heart. All sense of yourself’ that you do lose that sense of yourself. And I think that's been the hardest part, or when I'm anxious about my kids.
“I think that more than just the sorting out of the closets stuff, I'll go back to the letters. I had been really dreading, in a sense, reading the letters, especially from my mother and knowing that it was going to raise up all sorts of stuff. And it did. And that was hard. But on the other hand, reading 50 years’ worth of letters, you get kind of a bigger picture. I think I actually came away with some real regret and anger at some of the things. Alongside that I came on to some real admiration for my mother. Because by the time she was writing these letters toward the end of writing them, she was in her 70s, say, as I am now.
“And I think it probably actually reading those letters and reflecting on them was a good thing in my own development in a way, as an older woman. And I'm glad that I did it.
“One thing that is interesting to me is that because Kevin and I have both been retired for a while, you know, life has not been as different for us as it has, for example, for our kids. We've had odd decisions to make about whether to go out and how to be careful and, you know, all that stuff. Really, aside from maybe being a little bored sometimes: ‘What am I going to do now?’ And then you figure out something, aside from that, it hasn't been so terribly different.
“I’m grateful that I don't know anybody who's died. And it makes me want to knock on wood, you know, to say that. So if it becomes more real in that way, then the way that we look back on it, it will be severely altered.”
Update June 13, 2022
Karin interviewed me by phone seven months into the Pandemic. Now it’s been 27 months since the shelter in place order was given. Unbelievable! Although life has opened up considerably, at our age Kevin and I are still very careful about where we go and we’re still wearing masks.
Many of my family members have had COVID, though none hospitalized. My grandchildren were all back in “live” school at some point during the school year. Happily, we’re finally seen all our American children and grandchildren. I have not been on an airplane, and I have not yet met my Danish great-grandson, who is nearly two. In the past year we added on to our house and I had a total knee replacement, two big undertakings.
Sometimes I try to remember what life was like ‘before,” even as we slowly drift back to some of the things we used to do. I miss going to church, and I’m very grateful for “live stream,” so that I can sing along and feel a bit like I’m there.