A Blessed Ache

In one of my favorite photos, my parents posed in front of their first Christmas tree in the home they built on Klinger Avenue in the 1950s. Less than two months later, they welcomed a squalling infant to that house, which was to be my residence for the next eighteen years. Upon leaving home for college, I had no idea that a life in Salvation Army ministry would make me a nomad of sorts, but as a result, I’m now living in my twelfth domicile since then (not counting assorted dorm rooms and seminary apartments).

I’m a homebody by nature, and twelve homes seem excessive to me. However, the U.S. Census Bureau reports that the average American moves 11.7 times during his or her lifetime, so, barring a relocation to the nursing home in the near future, I’m right on target for mobility. However, I am glad that we’re settled in our own home in Ashland these days, and I have no plans to move ever again.

I was not a happy camper when my dear friend Morven Baker and her husband David announced they were planning to move to North Carolina. Surely now that I’ve found a permanent home in Ashland, the people who enrich my life here would not dare to move away, right? Wrong. The advent of on-line education at the seminary level opened the door for David to continue to teach at Ashland Theological Seminary from anywhere in the world with Internet connections. The call of the ocean, the promise of a warmer climate, and the proximity to three lovely granddaughters and a new baby on the way made the decision to relocate a great one for them – but it is a profound loss to the Ashland community.

While highly respected in their professional circles, Morven and David Baker are not headline people, and their departure from Ashland hasn’t made the front page of the Times-Gazette. For nearly thirty years, Dr. David Baker has been a professor of Old Testament and Semitic languages at the seminary. He’s a deep thinker and communicator, and is recognized internationally as an Old Testament scholar and contributor to biblical commentaries. His writing and editing skills and his steady presence on campus have enriched the lives of countless seminarians here in Ashland and around the world.

His wife, Dr. Morven Baker, discovered her own calling as a counselor to women, particularly those with a history of childhood sexual abuse and domestic violence. Hundreds of women throughout northeast Ohio owe their very lives to Morven Baker, whose tenacious spirit offered a faithful companionship on the treacherous path from abuse to wholeness. Morven was officially my advisor for my doctoral work at the seminary, but in reality she was a midwife, one “with woman,” bringing to life what was being birthed within me in those days.

I’m rejoicing with my friends in the opportunities awaiting them in the days ahead in North Carolina, especially as they embrace those beloved grandbabies on a regular basis. But I am also grieving the loss to our community here in Ohio as well as to my own heart. This farewell brings a blessed ache, but an ache nonetheless.

Cathy Loerzel wrote about the ache of her own move with these words: “I must welcome my sorrow and sit and stare at my empty walls with boxes stacked to the ceiling and smile with tears at the memories that are stirred.” As these words take shape on the computer screen in front of me, I am smiling with tears at the stirred Morven memories of back porch conversations, locked office doors, re-sale store visits, dissertation dissection, and caring companionship.

In 1900, Peter Christian Lutkin composed a melody for a benediction found in Numbers 6. His song forms the prayer on my heart and lips for my dear friends and for all of those whose lives are in transition in these first days of 2015: “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious unto you. Amen.”