Moments of Joy

Students throw me a lifeline!

Recently, I experienced joy so intense that it broke the power of the relentless barrage of bad news streaming from the Internet into my brain and making its home there. At this point in my life, soon to be 82 years old, I have had a full life. After completing the eight years of full-time University and Seminary studies required, I began a forty-year ministry as a Lutheran Pastor. I had the privilege of being a part of peoples’ lives at some of their most vulnerable times: births, weddings, deaths, hospitalizations, personal struggles, times of sorrow, and times of joy. Dealing with my Rheumatic Fever from ages 7-18, and then my wife’s journey through twenty-four years of Parkinson’s during our forty-five year marriage played a part in shaping who I have become. Her death forced a complete makeover of my identity. Traveling overseas for these last fourteen years has been a time of self-discovery.

They have added layers to the person I have become.

As is so for anyone in their later years, past studies, past discoveries, past experiences, past relationships, past mistakes, and past successes have accumulated into layers, maybe like the rings of a tree. The question is, so what? I have written blogs, Facebook and Substack posts, one book, and started another. But who knows if anyone is reading or will read any of what I write? What feels like a wealth of valuable information is located inside an old body, as in the thick bark of an ancient tree.

Ten or twelve days ago, Vega, one of my Airbnb housemates, invited me to meet for coffee with a group of her friends. I responded with a very enthusiastic Yes! I am always surprised when young people are willing to converse with me as if I am a regular person, not just an old person. Vega, 20, is one of a group of students that met when flying from Stockholm to Porto to spend a semester learning Portuguese. We had talked a few times before that, but seven of us met at this gathering. For three and a half hours, they asked all sorts of questions, listened as I responded, and told some of the stories behind this old bark. They picked up on themes, and we talked about them. We wandered this way and that, releasing more of what was hidden in the layers of my life’s experience. When we left, there was mention of the possibility of meeting again sometime. Then, yesterday, Vega, who has since moved to another location with some others in her group, texted me that they would like to treat me to dinner at a restaurant that evening. Again, the conversation was lively and energizing. In the conversation, two or three said that in their calls home, they had referenced to their parents the time talking with me. One of the parents affirmed the value of talking with someone of my vintage. Both times with those young people brought me joy that overwhelmed the bad news that has been so relentless in these last weeks.

I suspect I have spoken of this more than once before. I ask for your indulgence since repeating the same old stories is a malady that sometimes comes in our later years.

I have an affinity for young people who are in their transitional years, between identifying primarily as part of a nuclear family and fledging the nest as a separate somebody trying to make their way in a world that is not always welcoming. Sometimes, they ask existential questions: Who am I? What should I do? How will I survive? Will anyone love me?

At one point in my studies, I considered leaving the seminary. I was struggling with some faith issues. A sage and intelligent professor provided an intellectual path to a faith that was better informed and stronger than what I had brought to the seminary and I carried on. My first job as a Pastor was teaching religion and counseling at a large Lutheran high school. I decided to focus on the elements of the faith using words other than those encased in the doctrinal formulas. If any of this was true, it was not only true when using those words.

It was an exciting time. Relationships with the students were primary for me. But in my third year of teaching, I was informed that my contract would not be renewed for the following year. Other than one faculty member commenting that I was “too close” to the students, the reasons were unclear. When the news got out, the Student Council went to work, providing paper, envelopes, stamps, and school board members' names and addresses so students could write to them on my behalf. The students circulated petitions, obtaining the signatures of 680 of the 800 student body members. They came to my rescue, and I was offered the job for the following year. During that time, I received an overture from a congregation in Kansas City. I interviewed and was offered a position as the Associate Pastor, which I accepted. My experience with those students was empirical evidence of the love at the core of the Christian message. My next fifteen years in that parish were filled with activities with the Youth of my congregation and a neighboring congregation. I learned at least as much from them as those young people did from me as we negotiated their life’s issues together. Those young people are now in their sixties and seventies, and some of us are still in contact with one another. These young people from Stockholm who generously opened their lives to me here in Porto during these last two weeks have nurtured my spirit more than they know.

Felicity struck again!

Last weekend, between the two times with my friends from Stockholm, I took an hour-long train ride from Porto to Coimbra, where I visited a couple from the US, Chris and Milva, who are moving to Portugal. Chris was one of my students at the high school where it all happened. More than that, he shared with me last weekend that he was the one who worked up and ran off the petitions that were circulated for the students to sign. I didn’t know he was the one. Then he lamented that they went to all that effort, which didn’t work. At that moment, I realized the students had never found out they had succeeded and that I had been offered the job for the following year!

In that moment, my perception of those events in my history changed completely. At the time it happened I remember feeling profound guilt that by accepting the position at the church in the Kansas City area I was abandoning those people who had fought so hard for me. I thought the students knew that I had been offered the job at the high school for the following year and had chosen not to accept it. I thought they felt abandoned. I decided not join the farewell time right after the graduation ceremony even though I was longing for the hugs that I knew would be shared there. I felt that I had let them down. It was an exceedingly painful moment. I am relieved to discover now that they didn’t feel abandoned, but I am sorry they thought they had not won the battle. They came to my rescue and I am eternally grateful for them.

Even through the years as the Senior Pastor in the following two parishes, I always felt a kinship with the Youth. Now that I am retired and traveling, I am grateful for those open to my friendship. Thank you, Vega, Agnes, Felicia, Lukas, Alice, Moa, and Julia. You are the best!

The Destination is Now,

Peter