On Friday last week, I traveled to Ohio to attend “Hal-a-palooza” at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Kent. The event celebrated the retirement of Hal Walker after 25 years serving that congregation as Music Director.
 
I was delighted to be back in Kent, not too far from where I lived in Ohio for many years. I hadn’t been to their church since they completed a renovation (Hal-a-palooza was in the new space) and I hadn’t seen the people there since before the pandemic—including Kathy and Hal.
 
Kathy, Hal and I sang as a trio for several years. We came together while singing in the Summer Institute choir which Hal was directing; he led the trio and wrote most of the songs. We recorded an album together and performed dozens of concerts, mostly in UU spaces. The harmony and connection among the three of us was among the best musical experiences I’ve ever had. Hal has been sick for several years now, suffering from a rare disease that forced him into early retirement from his position at the UU church. In the planning leading up to Hal-a-palooza we weren’t sure if he would have the energy to be there and to sing. Thankfully he was, and it was delightful to see Hal and to hear him sing again.
 
These were some of the highlights of the evening for me:

• The Music Director Pro Tem, Katie Grigg-Miller, singing her own composition:

           There’s only love around you
           There’s only Peace within you
           There’s only light above you…

• The evening’s Master of Ceremonies Matt Watroba—a musician of both Michigan and Ohio—leading the audience in a song by David Tamulevich:

           Ours is a simple faith, life is a short embrace
           Heaven is in this place, every day…

• Rev. Melissa Carvill-Ziemer reflecting on her ten years collaborating with Hal as Minister and Music Director, inspiring one another and leading beautiful worship together.

• Hal singing a duet with daughter Hallie (who has grown up to be an actress and singer), one of Hal’s songs:

           Shine on by the moon, let the little angels shine on with you,
           Write a brighter tune so we can sing it all the way home.

• And Hal singing a solo rendition of the traditional hymn Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing while playing magically on a steel hand drum:

           …Praise the mount I’m fixed upon it
           Mount of Thy redeeming love.
 
Long live music. Long live friendship. Long live sacred community.
 
PRAYER:
May the UU Church of Kent be blessed: their new building, their new minister, the music director to come who will follow in the footsteps of Hal Walker.
May the joy of singing and making music, and of enjoying and being moved by music, be known by all.
May good health come to Hal and to all who suffer from Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.
Amen.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz
​

“Last Saturday I travelled to Ann Arbor for a baby shower: my niece is expecting, and this will be the first baby in this part of the family. It’s a delightful moment to pause before the baby arrives, to receive the good wishes of family and friends; to receive gifts both practical and beautiful. The new parents can never, of course, know what life will truly be like when a baby arrives. This truth is as old as humanity. We who have been there before can only offer love and support, baby books and diapers, onesies and toys…”

Last Saturday I travelled to Ann Arbor for a baby shower: my niece is expecting, and this will be the first baby in this part of the family. It’s a delightful moment to pause before the baby arrives, to receive the good wishes of family and friends; to receive gifts both practical and beautiful. The new parents can never, of course, know what life will truly be like when a baby arrives. This truth is as old as humanity. We who have been there before can only offer love and support, baby books and diapers, onesies and toys.
 
The writer Barbara Kingsolver has her own thoughts about parenting, expressed in her poem “How to Have a Child:”
 
Begin on the day you decide
you are fit
to carry on.
Begin with a quailing heart
for here you stand
on the fault line.
Begin if you can at the beginning.
Begin with your mother,
with her grandfather,
the ones before him.
Think of their hands, all of them:
firm on the plow, the cradle,
the rifle butt, the razor strop;
trembling on the telegram,
the cheek of a lover,
the fact of a door.
Everything that can wreck a life
has been done before,
done to you, even. That’s all
inside you now.
Half of it you won’t think of.
The rest you wouldn’t dream of.
Go on.
 
Kingsolver names both the resolution and the doubt that comes with becoming a parent. I know both were present for me, 27 years ago: both the determination to do my best as a parent, and the fear of not being good enough to give the child all that they deserve. And the poet also encourages the parent-to-be to connect to the generations past. Our mothers, fathers, grandparents and on back: they all did the things they could, and none of them were perfect. We are not meant to repeat what our parents did: the promise of new baby is the promise that the next generation will different even as it is connected to the past.
 
We are connected to our ancestors before us: their blood in our bodies; their instincts rooted in our DNA. And we are connected to the generations to come. Every child born is ours to protect, to love; for every child born we work for a safer and greener planet, a more just and loving community. May it be so.
 
PRAYER:
May every pregnant mother in every corner of this Earth be safe, be cared for, and be loved.
May every child born be blessed with love.
May every family member, every neighbor, every community member; may every king and president, and every waitress and farmer vow solemnly to create a world fit for the baby born today.
Amen.

Rev. Andrew Frantz

I took time off from my regular duties last week to go on a spring break trip to the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, with a stop in Indianapolis. The time off gave me a chance to connect with nature, to do some reading, and to spend time with loved ones. Two memorable experiences from the week occurred at a museum in Indianapolis and a waterfall in Tennessee.
 
Located in downtown Indianapolis by the White River, The Eiteljorg Museum houses a collection of art from the American West by Native and European artists. Upstairs, they have exhibits of Native American culture, history and art. The installation that affected me most powerfully was in the entrance hall to the Native American section. Unlike the Ziibiwing Center here in Mount Pleasant Michigan, which focuses on Anishinaabe history and culture, the Eiteljorg Museum encompasses the range of Native American cultures. In the entrance hall what struck me specifically was the recorded greeting to visitors in many Native languages.
 
The recordings play at different locations in the entrance hall, where I could pick up a receiver like an old-fashioned telephone earpiece, and hear the voice of a Native American welcoming me in their language while a screen in front of me translates the words. I also picked up a receiver and heard the singing of a traditional song. Hearing the voice of living people speaking or singing an ancient and little-known language is powerful and alive for me–more than than static displays of clothing and tools and weapons. In the recorded voices I felt both the history and aliveness of Native culture.
 
My three days in the Smoky Mountains were spent mostly connecting with nature. Just as I connect spiritually with the Chippewa River in Mount Pleasant, I was drawn to running water in the Smokies. On my last day there I hiked to Upper Meigs Falls, a waterfall in a small valley with mountain laurel growing up the hillsides. The flowing water brings life and beauty and a sense of peace to the scene. I felt connected to everyone and everything in that moment.
 
Back from my trip now, in front of me on my desk is the plastic container that originally contained trail mix and now is half-full with water from Upper Meigs Falls. In the water is a small rock that I took from that place. This rock and this water will be placed on the altar of our sanctuary and used for the ritual of joy and sorrows that we follow every Sunday. Like everyone else in this congregation, I carry the congregation with me in my heart when I travel; when I return from travel I bring something of that experience back with me.
 
PRAYER:
May safety guide the comings and goings of this congregation.
May we go out in the world to explore and to serve; may we share with one another what we find there; and may we return to a place and a community that we call home.
Blessed be.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz