Weavers

As a child, I remember numerous elm trees of our community being devastated by the Dutch elm disease. On block after block, beetles invaded the trees, and their larvae tunneled under the bark, creating pathways for a deadly fungus to spread, clogging the water-conducting cells of the elms. Without water, the branches wilted, and the trees across the city began to die. Soon, Elmwood Park lost its leafy canopy, and the whir of chain saws could be heard across our small city.

 

I thought about the loss of those towering elms as I read the words of retired UMC pastor Tom Snyder and his wife Kitty. They wrote of the deaths of two long time Ashland residents: “Two giant oaks have fallen.” As the Snyders noted, Norm Sommers wasan educator who helped shape hundreds of educators in his long career, while Joe Murray was both a lawyer and a determined champion of social justice who never really retired. 

 

Many choose to live in a community based upon aesthetic factors such as attractive neighborhoods and cultural institutions, or due to easy access to highways or plentiful employment opportunities. Yet as I reflect upon the true fabric of the communities I’ve lived in over the years, I realize that it is seldom rooted in the oak or elm trees that line its streets; rather, it is woven by the people like Joe and Norm who bring their individual gifts and skills to its homes, schools, offices, factories, and churches.

 

Thus, Ashland becomes someplace special because of the giant oaks such as Joe Murray and Norm Sommers, as well as so many others who contribute to its health in large and small ways. Some are rooted in Ashland seemingly forever, like Joe and Norm, while others come for a time, make their mark on our lives, and then quietly slip away to another community, another opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others.

 

Two of the “oaks” who stand tall, whose lives have been woven bountifully into the fabric of life in Ashland, are Bob and Jan Archer. If a philanthropist is someone with the desire to promote the welfare of others, expressed especially by the generous donation of money to good causes, then Bob and Jan are Ashland’s philanthropists, sowing the seeds of financial resource with abundance. Yet while the financial support has been beneficial to the community, those of us who know them recognize how their desire to promote the welfare of others reaches far beyond any monetary gift they may give. In particular, the value of Jan’s words of encouragement to me have worth far beyond dollars and cents. Mighty oaks for sure.

 

But saplings also contribute to the health of a community. Our young neighbors on Walnut Street, Kaitlynn and Spencer Dolezal, were immigrants to Ashland for a time, and they wove their way into our hearts through Spencer’s music ministry and his commitment to the troubled teens of our community, and Kaitlynn’s service as a social worker and yoga instructor. Now, a job change has sent them north with their precious little boy, but Kaitlynn’s words of care serve as a benediction of sorts for those they leave behind:  “May we find the balance of grieving, healing, resting,  engaging, serving, learning, and unlearning.”  

 

Like Joe Murray, Norm Sommers, and Jan and Bob Archer, Spencer and Kaitlyn know what it means to be a weaver of community. The Aspen Institute sponsors Weave: The Social Fabric Project, explaining, “Weave supports the many Americans in every community who are working to create social trust and weave neighbors together to strengthen their communities.” They understand that “weaving is a way of life and a state of mind, not a set of actions. It’s about the spirit of caring you bring to each interaction with someone else. It’s a willingness to be open and loving, whether you get anything in return . . . Weavers make the effort to  build [honest, deep] connections and make others feel valued.”

 

Indeed, Ashland is blessed by those who live for others. We grieve a community’s loss today while giving thanks for those who continue to weave with care among us.