“The loved ones we call the dead
depart from us and for a while
are absent. And then as if
called back by our love, they come
near us again. They enter our dreams.
We feel they have been near us
when we have not thought of them.
They are simply here, simply waiting
while we are distracted among
our obligations. At last
it comes to us: They live now
in the permanent world.
We are the absent ones.”
-The Loved Ones, by Wendell Berry
(August 5, 1934 – August 31, 2026)

It has felt like an early All Saints these past few weeks as we have communally mourned so many of the bright, beautiful souls that brought joy, depth, and poetic meaning into our lives.

You are not what you do,
although you do a lot.
You are not what you have collected
in terms of friendships and connections,
although you might have many.
You are not the popularity that you have received.
You are not the success of your work.
You are not what people say about you,
whether they speak well
or whether they speak poorly about you.
All these things that keep you quite busy,
quite occupied,
and often preoccupied
are not telling the truth about who you are.
I am here to remind you
in the name of God
that you are the Beloved Daughters and Sons of God,
and that God says to you,
“I have called you from all eternity
and you are engraved from all eternity
in the palms of my hands.
You are mine.
You belong to me,
and I love you with an everlasting love.”

-Henri Nouwen

I read this word from Henri Nouwen at the start of every program year, committee year, and committee nominations cycle. It is a balm to a weary or motivated or ambivalent soul.

You are not what you do, although you do a lot.

In a recent audit of our camp equipment in search of an excuse to go to the outdoor store, I poked through our outdoorsing bins while asking of each item, “was this from the Camino or more recently?” Equipment purchased for that 30-day waltz across Spain would be understandably out of date; I could justify buying a new headlamp with more than a piddly 70 lumens if it had been in use since that grant-funded-shoestring-budget trek 15 years ago. Post-Camino gear, however, would have to suffice until it broke down.

Until this month, Paul and I have principally explored the northern half of Oregon: the coast up to Astoria, hiking and activity in the Columbia Gorge, wine tasting in the Willamette Valley, plenty of board meetings in Salem, and outdoorsing in the Wallowas. A few events have taken us to more central latitudes: gathering of the clergy orders in Bend, Youth Winter Camp at Suttle Lake, and half-marathons in Corvallis and Newport. Apart from a quick trip to the Eugene marathon, we’ve hardly gone much south of Highway 20.

This summer break we sought to venture further afield – quite nearly to California – to find renewal in the striking blue of Crater Lake and the creativity of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland.

The only problem was our timing.

I have learned a lot, and I look forward to sharing those learnings further with you.