The Land

This past Sunday, we were blessed to have 4 people from the Mission speak to us about their journey in Navajo Nation.  These will be presented here as they become available.

This first one is by Cindy Jackson King,,

The Land

The story is that Grace YMO went to Utah to build a Hogan for the widow of the first native Episcopal bishop at St. Christopher’s Mission.  Fr. Chris has said that the truth is that we went to Utah to understand and respect Navajo spirituality, (that he was called to bring us to the Place by the very winds>)  I recognize now that the process of building the Hogan was to be the very means by which we could learn about and experience Navajo spirituality.  For myself, lessons of spirituality were learned most clearly in our daily confrontations with the physical environment in which we lived and worked – the heat, the sun, the winds, the rocks, the sand – with what I wall call “the Land”.  I will tell you that in the daily bouts between our intentions and the immoveable realities of the Land, it was the Land that won every time. 

I could tick off the list:  We came prepared with our hats, sunglasses, sunscreen, tents, bottles and canisters of water and Gatorade, thinking that we could protect ourselves and keep up our strength and ability to work in the heat and sun at our site every day.  Despite all our preparations, the Land had other plans.  We found every day that we still needed to adapt to the realities of the heat and sun.  And even in trying to focus the bulk of our work time in the hours before noon, many of us still had to return early from the site.  And some of us were visited with the wonderful experience of heat exhaustion. 

We planned that we could complete most of the outer work on the Hogan within our 5 day work frame.  Our schedule was delayed not only for safety training with our power tools – which we could never forego – but also by the very remoteness and expanse of the Land.  Although we had paid in full for the steel for our roof, the vendor declined to deliver the materials to the site.  “You’re in Bluff!?  That’s the middle of nowhere!  We’re not going to deliver there!”

Connected to that story – we had expected that we could efficiently and easily transport work teams to the work site daily from the Mission using the very bus that brought us safely from Hinsdale.  The Land had other plans.  

On the first day of work, arriving about a mile from the work site, our bus was captured by the sand of an unpaved road.  

Try as we might – and we tried everything we knew for about an hour – we were faced with the reality that the bus was stuck.  It was only by the appearance “as if out of nowhere” of a certain Ford 450 muscle truck, equipped with a tow hook, that the bus was freed.  Yes, the bus was pulled out of the sand by a truck.  That same truck, and driver, would become the means by which our steel was finally delivered to our site.  (That is another story.) 

And yet we kept on giving our best efforts, still hoping to achieve our goal of getting the outer and supportive structure of the Hogan finished by the end of the week.  That Friday, our last day at the site, I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that we had worked up some confidence – perhaps cockiness? – in our progress so far, our abilities to use our power tools safely and effectively, and in our ability to follow the directions of our managing contractor, Jack.  Once again, the Land had other plans.  We were working at a good and effective clip until about noon – when we were visited by a sand storm.  Some 60 mile/hour winds and swirling sands made climbing and working on scaffolds and maneuvering sheets of plywood impossible, and Fr. Chris made the executive decision to shut down the site for safety reasons. 

 So, with goggles and kerchiefs trying to protect our mouths and noses, (securing the remaining materials at the site as best we could, packing our tents, generator compressor and supplies) we broke camp for the last time, and high tailed it off the site with the wind and sand licking at our heels.  That was a reality check. 

And yet – for all our being chastened and humbled by the stark realities of the Land, it was, ultimately, those same processes by which I would receive marvelous gifts. 

On a personal level, I was forced to face limits within myself.  But as I let go of some of my delusions of competence and control, this was compensated for by the gift of loving care of others.  So many people took care of me!  From giving me eyedrops and Ibuprofen, to recognizing that I was in stages of heat exhaustion. 

As we progressed through the week, the Message Board was a huge source of joy.  As I processed each day, it allowed me to reflect on and become aware of the prowess and the variety of gifts of my team, my fellow staff, and all of my YMO family.  And in acknowledging, I became grateful.  And being grateful – haven’t you found? – is a blessing in itself.  The Message Board became a means for me to count blessings. 

But probably the single most powerful experience – and most effective teaching tool – came in our group experiences on the site where the mission was located – on the site that originally called Fr. Chris to bring us there.  As the evening was falling, we climbed in silence the rock and shifting sands of a canyon wall, finding perches on a rocky lege.  It was there that we sat as a group in a guided meditation. 

It is difficult for me to convey my experience of the Land – in that Place – in words.  There are some things of which we cannot speak.  I will say this:  that canyon – those rocks, the sands, the scrub – forgive me, but it all felt ALIVE to me.  I daresay – I felt in that Place something like a kinship with the Land.  With that, my sense of relationship with and embeddedness in, the YMO family surrounding me was altered, became more fluid.  And my perspective on myself, my relations with others, and my place in the universe (as Fr. Chris says “When I say universe I mean God.”) has changed.

- Cindy Jackson King

Presented June 22, 2014