
Today as I walked the labyrinth in snow shoes, my thoughts turned to the dread that I have not admitted to myself until now: the impending reality of spending Christmas away from close friends and family. For over four months now we have enjoyed new experiences and have slowly adjusted to life in a tiny community. We have met a lot of very nice people who are on staff and many interesting and kind guests of the village. But our thoughts keep returning to the people back home who have known us long and know us deeply--and love us anyway.
Going off for a year to volunteer at Holden Village sounded like a vacation or an escape from the real world to some who first heard our news. "What fun it will be going to camp!" some exclaimed, or, "How nice that you can take some time off."
To others, it sounded like a way to live differently from the pace of our modern society which often puts commerce above all else and seems to have largely forgotten the importance of people and community. We are really thankful for the rest from relentless commercialism that holidays in Holden Village offer during the Advent and Christmas season. We are nestled in a warm chalet, passing kind and familiar faces as we walk around the snow-covered village, quietly contemplating what holiness means in the midst of bright candles in the darkness of the worship space.
But still there is a yearning. To sit with a friend who has known me for years, and just have a cup of tea, to go for a run around Lake Padden with a friend who doesn't mind my slowness, or to enjoy poetry and chocolate with a beloved group of women who fill my soul. To work closely with my friends at church to teach a Sunday School class or help out at a community meal.
We believe that we were called to serve a year at Holden Village because it is a place of renewal and uplift for so many, including our family and many friends. We were excited for the challenge and adventure of living with limited electricity, no phones, no television, no commercial advertising in the remote wilderness of the North Cascades. What we are learning is that the wilderness goes deeper into our hearts and souls.
There is a reason for struggle and discomfort and feeling disconnected. We believe that there is a lot to learn from situations like these, and that in the end there will be a lot of good which benefits our family, our community and the larger world.
For now, however, it is just a time of quiet reflection on the paradoxical value of being apart. And we wait -- appropriately for Advent -- we wait for a time when we'll return to the warmth of familiar friendships and community.