Can your senses, any or all of them, detect the presence of the holy?
Mine, reluctant disciple that I am, too frequently miss the signs of its presence even when its voice cries out: “I’m here!”
But on Saturday June 2nd, for a short time and for reasons that remain a mystery, I became immersed in the holy.
It turned out to be a picture-postcard afternoon in Vermont. The barn, or sugarhouse—the building where maple sap is boiled and made into maple syrup and maple sugar—provided the setting where an extraordinary local civil servant would be presented with the Colleen Haag Public Service Award. Each year, the recipient is honored by the town of Shelburne for service and dedication to the community.
Driving to Palmer’s Sugarhouse, a place I’d never visited, I marveled at the roadside wooden barns and bridges I passed, the beauty of the distant Green Mountains, the countryside where copses of maple and pine trees lined the road, and the open pastures through which the dirt roads and two-lane blacktops took me. The simple, plain-looking barn, the home of the fifty-year-old family-owned and -operated sugaring business, sits on a knoll. Weathered and gray on the outside but vibrant and alive on the inside, the sugarhouse reverberated with the sounds of friendly greetings and laughter—fellowship and community.
People were either seated on picnic tables or long wooden benches, standing by the large evaporator in which the sap and water are boiled, or congregated near displays, or clustered around the entrance—a standing room only crowd of joyful souls filled the spacious sugarhouse paying tribute to a man they knew and loved.
Jim Warden, retired police chief and renowned story-teller, “had it going on” that Saturday just as he had during the thirty years he protected and served the town of Shelburne, Vermont. Affable, grateful, serious, commanding in his presence, and humble before family, friends, and peers, Jim was gracious and impressive as he accepted the award. The Chief lived fully into what those present had known him to be during his years of service on the job, and in the roles he took on that went beyond the scope of his duties—confidante, “counsellor,” dog trainer [think dog whisperer], and a never ending source of stories.
Sitting among friends, fellow congregants from the North Ferrisburgh United Methodist Church, and people from Shelburne and surrounding townships, I had come to pay tribute, feel companionship, and celebrate community in the presence of a fine man.
Hand written menus, posters and news clippings graced the walls of the barn-like structure while above us retired farming and sugaring tools hung from the rafters. Shelves were adorned with a variety of containers, some iconic and antique, and others—jugs and glass jars filled with maple syrup, maple cream, and neatly stacked gift boxes of maple sugar, and candy ready for sale.
The trip through peaceful and gorgeous countryside to and from the sugarhouse, the smiles, greetings and expressions of affection and gratitude for and to Jim combined to create a sense of being part of something bigger.
A palpable feeling of welcome and belonging engulfed me. We were all seemingly at ease with one another, embracing unspoken companionship. Love and kindness were openly evident in the smiles and eyes of those present, a communal pleasure expressed through hugs, handshakes and warm greetings—a distinctly down-home Vermont quality to the gathering.
In the random and mysterious manner by which thoughts often occur to me, I remembered the words of writer Anne Lamott: “I can tell you that what you’re looking for is already inside you. You’ve heard this before, but the holy thing inside you really is that which causes you to seek it. You can’t buy it, lease it, rent it, date it, or apply for it.”
In the midst of celebratory kinship, a welcome spell of unscripted togetherness occurred between my soul and the familiar and unknown folks around me. I felt a connection beyond, yet tethered to the people, event and local countryside. I shifted in my seat, tilted my head in puzzlement but paid attention.
At the time, my thoughts and feeling were private, so I resisted saying anything to Tom or Ted, the friends on either side of me. And then while attending to the kind and humorous anecdotes offered in tribute to Jim I began to realize what was occurring. There, glaze-eyed, elbows set on the red and white checkered, maple-syrup-sticky plastic table cloth I was surrounded by holiness. The great web of life, as Frederick Buechner calls it, was unfolding within and around me, and at its core the presence of the sacred.
It was all quite simple, really, and therefore easily passed over—no bells and whistles, thunderclaps or “lightning” bolts to my soul. There had been no conscious searching on my part, no “attempt to buy it, lease it, rent it, date it, or apply for it.”
It just appeared, the presence of the holy, where it has always been.
Photos courtesy of Palmer’s Sugarhouse
by 
Loved this and was privileged to be there! How do you sum up 30 years of being a beloved Police chief? We can’t, but we sure can celebrate the 30 years and we did. And it is all very precious to God and we felt that too.
Kim,
Thank you for reading and commenting on this post, and yes we were privileged to be participant-observers in celebration of Jim and thirty years of service as well as celebrating the pervasive presence of the holy.
Roger
This is extraordinarily moving to me. I have never yet been to Vermont and now I sense I have missed something very important. My mind goes back to rustic old barns in Idaho where I grew up, and abandoned gold mining towns in Nevada. You have reminded me of the ineffable holiness of special places. Thank you my friend.
Lambert,
Your phrase “the ineffable holiness of special places,” whether in Nevada, Iowa, or Vermont where buildings and gatherings remind us of what’s important captures the experience many, if not all of us, had that Saturday. Even as our minds takes us back to those places once traveled we can re-experience, and sometimes for the first time, that holiness because it never deserts us. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Roger
As one of the people sitting next to you during that event, I must thank you for describing that community gathering for what it truly was, and thus helping me to understand more completely what I myself experienced, but did not fully comprehend. And that was a sense of joy at being in the midst of this celebration. Thank you for identifying that place at that time as “the presence of the holy”. How many other times have I missed that? How many other times have all of us missed that?
Ted,
It was fun being your companion, and we didn’t miss it this time, did we? Sometimes it takes us a while to name what we’re feeling–the holy can be that way. Thank you for reading and commenting on this piece.
This is beautiful. I read it twice and underlined the key words that resonated with me. “Gray and weathered on the outside yet vibrant and alive on the inside” just as I feel sometimes. “Service” but more, “joyful service” a celebration of Jim Warden’s life of sharing with a giving heart. Your description of the simplicity of the barn artifacts balanced with the majesty of the awe-inspiring scenery made it seem as though you were “seeing” it all for the first time. And finally the “unscripted togetherness paired with unsolicited love and community” was indeed a holy moment. To me one of the most treasured things about life are these moments that come unexpectedly but linger. Lovely writing.
Mary,
Thank you for reading this twice and underlining words and phrases that “resonated” with you. There existed, in the sugarhouse that afternoon, a compelling simplicity and wonderment. “To me one of the most treasured things about life are these moments that come unexpectedly and linger.” Yes indeed!
Roger
I gobbled up every beautiful line. Thank you for taking me to your beautiful Vermont and into the grey and weathered barn. I felt like I had a mini vacation of the soul…but more then being transported I felt the reverence you described so fully that I felt surrounded by it, almost like a kid peeking around the corner witnessing something new for the first time. I’ve had my encounters of the holy but what you showed me is that it doesn’t come with trumpets blaring announcing it’s coming. I mean I think I knew that, but your eloquent reminder of the holiness to life is that it is there if we are quiet enough inside to feel it, witness the beauty within and without. What a glorious Easter hunt. Thank you.
Jo Anne,
Thank you for reading and commenting on this piece. Your comparison to “…a kid peeking around the corner witnessing something new for the first time” captures the feeling I had. Children have a guileless stance to the world that enables them to be surprised by magic and mystery, something we too often lose as adults. The sticky plastic tablecloth reminded me of all the times I gobbled maple-syrup-saturated pancakes spilling everywhere and not caring a wit–this may have helped me become a kid in the presence of celebrating adults and the holy–a marvelous ‘peeking.’
Roger
“Writing is its own reward.” – Anne Lamott
And it also comes from inside you. THX for sharing YOUR “holy” reward with us, too, Roger!
Chuck,
Anne knows what she’s talking about, something I’ll continue to search for, and on occasion stumble into. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Roger
Your words describing this lovely event and the feelings evoked within you, brought us along with you to that time and place.
It reminds me of the simple truth of the importance of being present, ” being here now,” as Ram Das encouraged us. I sometimes feel a similar grace and peace when I am able to relax into beautiful moments and places, and experience the holy whole of all that is. Write on, mon ami.
Colette,
Thank you. ‘Being here and now’ is another way of describing the grace and peace, as well as the excitement of being in the presence of the holy–really simple, as you write, but so elusive.
Roger
I am not surprised that you felt a presence of the holy. I could sense the presence myself because of your vivid description of the countryside, the sugarhouse, and the fellowship within. Upon reflection, which your writing inspired, I believe that whenever we feel connection–soul to soul, spirit to spirit–we are close to experiencing the presence of God in our midst. All that remains for us to do is to appreciate and be sensitive and open. Connection with any part of God’s universe, from the distant Green Mountains to the sticky table cloth,is all a reminder of God’s love for us. “For God so loved the world!” When we know God’s goodness, expressed through God’s creation, and especially through the life of Jim Warden, we experience the sacred.
Bill,
Thank you for reading and commenting. There are traditional ways in which my senses become attuned to God’s handiwork and presence–countryside, people in community, emotive expressions, and open celebration of the human spirit personified by Jim’s life–but the sticky tablecloth surprised me!
Roger
Vivid descriptions of a beautiful bucolic scenario.
Encouraged me to return and see it in a fresh way.
Stopping, looking, listening and being present are actions ( some would say non-actions) which allow, as Ann says, that which is inside to emerge and become real. Often, our activity ,can distract us from,or even quench the holy
Alan,
Thanks for reading and commenting. The setting was vivid and beautiful, and though I know you’re accurate and agree with you about “…our activity can distract us from or even quench the holy,” to do so on Saturday would have been difficult–that day the holy was all around us, and by it’s presence commanding our attention. On days like that the “crack in everything” seems cavernous and the light too compelling to miss.
Roger
I’m a little behind in reading and responding but I enjoy the comments people leave. Thank you for sharing your experience. Those are precious moments. I think holiness walks along us and we sometimes fail to comprehend on our road to Emmaus. Two days ago I saw the film Won’t You Be My Neighbor. That same feeling of witnessing the gift of unconditional love and awareness Mr. Rogers had for children and there needs, definitely fits in the holiness category. These events tend to move me to tears. I love it!
Carmen,
Thank you for reading, and though busy, commenting. I too am moved to tears when I open my eyes and soul to take-in the holy in any or all of its varied forms–wonderful, and as you say “precious.” Saul changed to Paul, and though I intend to remain Roger, I need to be knocked off my ‘donkey’ more often so I see what’s right in front of me, on the path in all its splendor–holiness. Saul/Paul was blinded for a bit. I hope I’m not that obtuse and clueless–we’ll see, and thanks for being ‘on the journey.’
Roger
Saul became Paul, Simon became Peter and when I was baptized Anne Marie became
Carmen. Isn’t that God calling?
Carmen,
Why not! Nice company.
Roger
Lovely text, Roger. It is a reminder to me of the holy and sacred in our midst – I feel it is up to us to be awake to it; perhaps the key is having a degree of inner quietness and focus and “tuning in” this holy side of life – which we may at times connect to, through the grace of God. Thanks for sharing your experience!
Ned,
Thank you for reading and commenting. We are in agreement w/re “having a degree of inner quietness and ‘tuning in’ this holy side of life,” but for me the chatter can be endlessly distracting, and at times compelling–God smiles and says “you can do it, after all it’s easier than throwing or hitting a curveball.”
Roger