CHAPTER EIGHT
After graduation it seemed appropriate that i seek another Pastorate. The Executive Secretary of Massachusetts Baptists put me in touch with the Summit Avenue Baptist Church in Jersey City. I was invited to visit with the Church and the Pulpit Committee and was called to that pastorate. The Church was at 5-corners, and not far from the entrance to the subway to the Hudson Tunnel so there was easy access to New York City. As I recall the Moderator was a member of AA and an Al Anon group met in the basement of the Church. Among other opportunities I became an advisor to AA groups in the area. (Not a member.) I enjoyed living in this Metro area, but I suspect it was not a favorite place for Betty. We had a large parsonage next door to the Church. Plenty of room for a family of 5 kids, mother and father. Paul was to be born in July 1960 at the Margaret Hague Memorial Hospital.
A continuing memory of this era was the meeting of Leonard Ballesteros who pastored the North Baptist Church in a primarily Spanish part of town. He is Mexican. I participated with Len’s father in his marriage to Nancy Lee, a talented young lady who is Caucasian. That would have been in the early 1960’s. They are still married and are living in Florida after Len’s retirement from the M & M Board of American Baptists.
Another of my deep memories of this time was the chance to visit the opening of the Guggenheim Art Museum in NYC. The Pastorate, itself, went well and my intention was to stay there a long time. After about a year I got a letter from my twin brother, John, stating that he was teaching part-time at a small Church related college in Billings, MT - Rocky Mountain College, and that they were looking for a Director of Guidance who could help in the establishment of a Department of Psychology. Would I be interested? Of course. I was ordained and had a Master’s degree in Psych. It did seem, however, that it would not be fair to the Church to leave after such a short time. During the Easter Season of 1961 a friend who was an Episcopal Priest invited me to a day long retreat at one of their “retreats” in Jersey. I accepted and spent most of that day in meditation and prayer as to what my decision should be since the College had made a direct offer to me to join their staff. Mid-afternoon it became clear to me that this open door was one i should walk through. As Editor of my College Annual I had chosen those words: "Doors are opened, Ways are made" for the title page. I had walked through a door to become a College professor at Marshall. I had walked through a door to Graduate school at Penn State and then as Psychologist in residence at children’s homes in Iowa. I had walked through a door to Andover Newton, then Jersey City. Here was another opening. Now it seemed that my whole life experience had prepared me to “walk” through this door to Billings, Montana, and Rocky Mountain College. More on that later.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
CHAPTER SEVEN
Here is a follow up to the previous post. It may cast some understanding of my true love. This is a letter written to Betty about three week before my first heart attack.
11/2/57
Dearest One:
How can time, which flies so fast in other areas of life, go so slowly when I anticipate your return? Why is it that each days tomorrow is so slow in fading into this petty pace from day to day? Why is it that when the heart longs its satisfaction is found only in the sensual pleasure of holding your loved one in your arms and feeling the soft caresses of her lips? Why is it that a house which seems too full with the children suddenly takes on the aspects of a cavernous tomb when they are away?
I love you, I long for you, I desire you-- hurry, O wings, and bear her home to me! Hurry, O flight, and span the space and time that we who are thus apart may find our wholeness together!
The day is like my heart. The heavens cry their tears and the greyness speaks to my desolateness without you. Bear up - be brave - and yet how could I have let you go and how could I do otherwise. With hardly a letter to hold to my heart -- hearing from you only through packages - and quickening to your love I sit in longing just to hear your breath --I lie in wait for the other side of the bed to give in to you knowing that I too will then hold you in my arms.
News? What news? The world has come to a virtual stand still while you are gone. Hasten, O hasten home, my love that we who are thus apart may find our wholeness together!
Love, Jim
She had returned just before the heart attack. She had suffered a miscarriage of twins in June of that year and was taking some time off from managing a family to be with her family in West Virginia. The twins, a boy and a girl did not survive and are buried in Woodville, MA.
11/2/57
Dearest One:
How can time, which flies so fast in other areas of life, go so slowly when I anticipate your return? Why is it that each days tomorrow is so slow in fading into this petty pace from day to day? Why is it that when the heart longs its satisfaction is found only in the sensual pleasure of holding your loved one in your arms and feeling the soft caresses of her lips? Why is it that a house which seems too full with the children suddenly takes on the aspects of a cavernous tomb when they are away?
I love you, I long for you, I desire you-- hurry, O wings, and bear her home to me! Hurry, O flight, and span the space and time that we who are thus apart may find our wholeness together!
The day is like my heart. The heavens cry their tears and the greyness speaks to my desolateness without you. Bear up - be brave - and yet how could I have let you go and how could I do otherwise. With hardly a letter to hold to my heart -- hearing from you only through packages - and quickening to your love I sit in longing just to hear your breath --I lie in wait for the other side of the bed to give in to you knowing that I too will then hold you in my arms.
News? What news? The world has come to a virtual stand still while you are gone. Hasten, O hasten home, my love that we who are thus apart may find our wholeness together!
Love, Jim
She had returned just before the heart attack. She had suffered a miscarriage of twins in June of that year and was taking some time off from managing a family to be with her family in West Virginia. The twins, a boy and a girl did not survive and are buried in Woodville, MA.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
CHAPTER SIX
I've delayed long enough to write the next chapter of this Blog. Recent news has made it a bit easier. As Pastor of the Woodville Baptist Church I was a member of a committee looking for a replacement of our organ. One of the members was the mother of a young man who had had a clinical death during surgery. As a Psychologist I counseled the lad in cooperation with his family doctor. When we came back from one of our visits to evaluate a used pipe organ at another Church I took the lady home and I truly don’t remember how or why it happened, but I kissed her “goodnight”. The next visit when I left her at the door she commented, “You kissed me the last time.” That began a strange relationship which led to a lot of “smooching”, etc. The etc. was largely her driving to Newton and taking me to a baseball game at Fenway Park, or to a movie. On the way home we would stop and “neck” a while. There was no indication that our behavior would go beyond that level. Actually I kept telling myself that this behavior made me love Betty even at a deeper level. The last time we were together was when Betty was visiting her Mother after the twins had died. That would be in June 1957. They were fraternal male and female. They survived less than a day being about 3 month premature. When Betty went into labor the aforementioned lady drove us to the nearest hospital at Marlboro, MA. I preached the next day and found out after the service that the twins had not survived. Neither of us ever really saw them since they were in intensive care from the moment of birth. The Funeral Director in Hopkinton provided a casket for the two of them and a friend who pastored the Congregational Church agreed to conduct the funeral. A member of my Church let them to be buried on a corner of his family plot in Woodville. I’ll never forget this beautiful gesture of A.E. Stone. A friend from Seminary was Pastor in Marlboro and was able of visit Betty.
After she came home from the hospital Betty was able to go visit her family in West Virginia. Just before she returned I had one last “date’ with the other woman. This one led a bit further than ever anticipated, but not to bed. The Fall Semester was under way. I was taking a full schedule at Andover Newton and a class at Harvard with a noted Biblical Scholar, Paul Tillich. In November 1957, just after I had turned 33 years of age, I had a massive heart attack. I was at a Deacon’s meeting at the woman’s house when the traditional pains in my chest an left arm began. Some of the people there thought it was Hong Kong Flu, but knowing my family history I insisted they call a doctor. The diagnosis was heart. Since one of the Deacons ran the ambulance service I was taken to Framingham Memorial Hospital and received first class care at this leading cardiac care hospital. I continue to believe that God interceded in my life at that point although the other lady was the one who most often drove Betty to visit. She later visited us in Montana some years after her husband had died and she had a job which brought her west. We had a good visit. She was killed in an automobile wreck shortly after that visit.
My basic prayer in the hospital was for forgiveness, and that I might live to see my children grow up. God is good. I saw them all through high school and college. AND there were three more. They have grown up as well, are though college. five of the seven are married and have families. And at 85 I have 2 great granddaughters. My deepest sorrow is that Betty is not here to share this joy with me. And I am fortunate that Pete, unmarried, has moved in with me and takes care of the "heavy" stuff.
After she came home from the hospital Betty was able to go visit her family in West Virginia. Just before she returned I had one last “date’ with the other woman. This one led a bit further than ever anticipated, but not to bed. The Fall Semester was under way. I was taking a full schedule at Andover Newton and a class at Harvard with a noted Biblical Scholar, Paul Tillich. In November 1957, just after I had turned 33 years of age, I had a massive heart attack. I was at a Deacon’s meeting at the woman’s house when the traditional pains in my chest an left arm began. Some of the people there thought it was Hong Kong Flu, but knowing my family history I insisted they call a doctor. The diagnosis was heart. Since one of the Deacons ran the ambulance service I was taken to Framingham Memorial Hospital and received first class care at this leading cardiac care hospital. I continue to believe that God interceded in my life at that point although the other lady was the one who most often drove Betty to visit. She later visited us in Montana some years after her husband had died and she had a job which brought her west. We had a good visit. She was killed in an automobile wreck shortly after that visit.
My basic prayer in the hospital was for forgiveness, and that I might live to see my children grow up. God is good. I saw them all through high school and college. AND there were three more. They have grown up as well, are though college. five of the seven are married and have families. And at 85 I have 2 great granddaughters. My deepest sorrow is that Betty is not here to share this joy with me. And I am fortunate that Pete, unmarried, has moved in with me and takes care of the "heavy" stuff.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER Five
So we got to Massachusetts and Betty got in the care of a good doctor. I soon got a call to a small village church in Woodville. This area is a part of Hopkinton. which is where the Boston Marathon starts. It is also in Middlesex County of Paul Revere fame.
My first year was not particularly eventful. I commuted the 20-25 miles each day and on return home was often able to stop in Framingham and visit a sick parishioner. Woodville was a close knit community and I soon knew most of the people and also learned a vital lesson. Do not talk ill of another. He or she is probably related to the other.
The first Summer I took a course in Clinical Pastoral Training. Betty took the kids and went to visit her family in WV since I would be living in Boston for the program at Massachusetts General Hospital. It was sometime during this program that i felt that the lead Prof. and i had entirely different ideas as to the nature and cause of mental illness. That is why I decided to major in Theology rather than Psychology. I therefore studied primarily with Nels Ferre and Samuel Miller. As soon as the Summer program was over I headed to Ceredo, WV to visit and to bring the family back. My main memory of that trip is getting to New York City, parking the car in front of Riverside Baptist Church and taking the subway to Times Square. On the way back I took the wrong line and landed in Harlem. I remember walking through Riverside Park to get back to the car where I slept that night. The walk through Harlem and the Park was fortunately uneventful.
Dr. Ferre was to speak at my ordination after my Senior Year. Actually I had a heart attack during my Junior year (more about that later) so spent a fourth year finishing my degree. The Seminary agreed to support my ordination the summer before i completed the degree. A part of this was because my brother, Bill, a Navy Chaplain, was stationed in the area and this would allow him to take a part in the Service.
So we got to Massachusetts and Betty got in the care of a good doctor. I soon got a call to a small village church in Woodville. This area is a part of Hopkinton. which is where the Boston Marathon starts. It is also in Middlesex County of Paul Revere fame.
My first year was not particularly eventful. I commuted the 20-25 miles each day and on return home was often able to stop in Framingham and visit a sick parishioner. Woodville was a close knit community and I soon knew most of the people and also learned a vital lesson. Do not talk ill of another. He or she is probably related to the other.
The first Summer I took a course in Clinical Pastoral Training. Betty took the kids and went to visit her family in WV since I would be living in Boston for the program at Massachusetts General Hospital. It was sometime during this program that i felt that the lead Prof. and i had entirely different ideas as to the nature and cause of mental illness. That is why I decided to major in Theology rather than Psychology. I therefore studied primarily with Nels Ferre and Samuel Miller. As soon as the Summer program was over I headed to Ceredo, WV to visit and to bring the family back. My main memory of that trip is getting to New York City, parking the car in front of Riverside Baptist Church and taking the subway to Times Square. On the way back I took the wrong line and landed in Harlem. I remember walking through Riverside Park to get back to the car where I slept that night. The walk through Harlem and the Park was fortunately uneventful.
Dr. Ferre was to speak at my ordination after my Senior Year. Actually I had a heart attack during my Junior year (more about that later) so spent a fourth year finishing my degree. The Seminary agreed to support my ordination the summer before i completed the degree. A part of this was because my brother, Bill, a Navy Chaplain, was stationed in the area and this would allow him to take a part in the Service.
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