We Have This Treasure: John Huff

Or maybe it should be recorded that we had this treasure. He was on loan from his family and his friends and his community of Bloomington, Minnesota for a time. We borrowed him to serve as a living example of kindness and service to others and for the example of a life lived out in goodness.

Octogenarian extraordinaire that he is, John worked at Holden this summer as a maverick, toiling side-by-side with those perhaps a quarter of his age. He drove the luggage truck, split wood for the winter, cleaned and set up the Village Center for events, loaded and unloaded luggage of the guests...in short, whatever hard and heavy work needed to be done. And he was ever the cheerful one at whatever the task.

John left this week to return to Minnesota for the annual family camping trip and to get acquainted with the newest granddaughter, born while he was here in the village. After the camping trip...but you do not want to hear the schedule...he is booked up until next spring...when he hopes to return to Holden for another round of volunteer work.

John takes the wheel of the new luggage truck for his final drive down the mountain to take the boat down lake...and then the train back to Minnesota.

Early Sunday Morning's Peace

The early morning summer sun coming through the east window of the dining hall casts large shadows on a table made ready for moments of peace.

Window Seat Ruminations near the Final Destination of a Late Night Flight

The lair of God

Is without limits,

But must be searched

For signs of a presence.

From below,

By looking up.

From above,

By looking down.

Where

Just now,

At the very edge

Of the far horizon,

Lightning

Bursts unexpectedly into a dome

Of jittery and violent fire,

Shattering at once the darkness,

And then subsiding.

Where, too,

In this moment,

On the vast plain

Of darkness below,

Light

From scattered cities

Collects in tremulous pools

And wrests from obscurity

The physical sense of human habitation.

Where,

To the east,

By infinitesimal degrees,

The ambient air

Slowly silvers

Until it surrenders

To a slash

Of crimson and orange.

In continuing the miracle

Of its incessant turning,

Earth

Rolls its face

Once more

Toward the sun.

And it is there,

Just there,

In the first moments of a new dawn,

In the first fullness of received light,

That God's presence

Is revealed.

Made manifest.

Some Free Bird

Be aware.

On the fringes
Of the light,
Unheralded and unsung,
Some free bird
Of indeterminate origin
And with uncertain design
Takes the air.

Soars.

We Have This Small Treasure: Narnia

Together on a walk through Holden's garden, or...

...working on a small "independent project" or...

...playing "Ring-Around-the-Rosey" with the group...Narnia's children, Narnia's staff of volunteers, and Narnia's parents, all of whom care for the children, are a small treasure and a delightful addition to village life.