A Satisfying Benediction

In June of each year, the Salvation Army commissions new leaders from its College for Officers’ Training. After two years of study and hands-on experience, these graduates receive their diplomas in recognition of their achievement, and are also given their first assignment in front of a couple of thousand of their friends and family members. There is a great deal of speculation as to where they might be placed, but the exact location remains secret until they hear of their new assignment from Salvation Army leadership.

During this year’s public “great reveal,” Commissioner Barry Swanson, the eastern territory’s leader, decided to describe the community prior to announcing the location. An urban center of great historical significance, one of the top ten micro-cities in the United State, a community at the headwaters of the St. Lawrence Seaway – each descriptive statement gave a clue as to where that first assignment would be. One of my favorite was the town that hosts the largest chainsaw carving gathering in the U.S. (Ridgeway, Pennsylvania).

How is a community described by those who have lived there forever, or by visitors stopping in for a day or two? Is it best known by its physical characteristics (river, rolling hills, scenic view), its history (a Revolutionary War battle), or its manufacturing (steel, automobiles)? Or is a community best known for its festival, such as Mike the Headless Chicken Days in Fruita, Colorado, Eeyore’s Birthday Party in Austin, Texas, or the Twins Day Festival in Twinsburg, Ohio?

How do we describe our community? Fortunately, we haven’t been slapped with the moniker of the Mistake by the Lake (Cleveland) or the Armpit of the East (Buffalo). Having lived near both of those cities, the label is uncalled-for, as there is much to celebrate in both locations. Titles are deceptive, for I’ve also lived in the City of Brotherly Love, where crime was rampant and love was often absent.

So what about Ashland, Ohio? Ashland is someplace special, according to the city website, and Ashland “has benefited from having its city capabilities cloaked in a rural backdrop. The pace of life is less stressful than many large cities and there are plenty of opportunities for enjoyment outside of work.” I can agree with that.

Although I hesitate to say it, while I do understand that Ashland is someplace special, I also recognize that Ashland is an ordinary place. We don’t have majestic scenery, bizarre festivals, or multi-million dollar corporations. We manufacture cookies and shaving cream, not airplanes or blimps. Our citizens work hard, care for their families, and pay their taxes, but there aren’t many millionaires or celebrities among us. We are ordinary.

All too often, “ordinary” gets a bad rap. Even its definition isn’t exciting: “with no special or distinctive features, normal.” While I don’t suggest that we make it our new tag line, “Ashland, Ohio: someplace ordinary,” I’d rather be called normal than abnormal or paranormal.

A similar word is quotidian: “occurring every day; belonging to every day; commonplace, ordinary.” There is a quotidian rhythm to life in Ashland, sometimes a struggle to the young among us, but a gift to those who may not want to drink the kool-aid our fast-paced culture is peddling. It is the gift of an evening stroll on tree-lined sidewalks, attendance at the summer concerts in the park, and the unexpected sound of a horse-drawn buggy clopping down the street.

Walter Martin offers advice to parents: “Help [your children] to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life. Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples and pears . . . And make the ordinary come alive for them.” The ordinary, quotidian rhythm of life can appear to be boring and mundane, but Kierkegaard speaks of the alternate truth: “Repetition is the daily bread which satisfies with benediction.”

Ordinary? Perhaps so. Yet there is value in the constancy of Ashland, as we live united, reflected in the fidelity of faith both proclaimed and practiced. As such, Ashland is a special place: special in its ordinariness, special in its people, and, at the end of the day, special in its satisfying benediction.