On Sunday a
parishioner and I were talking about my “Call Story.” She said that she just loved Call Stories,
but we both noted that Episcopalians don’t often share them. Well, here is mine.
Twin Oaks Farm, Bedford, VA
The house in the
picture above is called Twin Oaks. Nestled
underneath Sharp Top Mountain in Bedford, VA, it was the homestead of the
Hatcher family. The last of the Hatchers,
Barbara, was a dear family friend, and when she passed away in 2004 she willed
Twin Oaks to my Aunt Meredith, the oldest of the four Mitchell children. And while Aunt Mere lived in Milwaukee,
making it a daunting task to care for a farm, she accepted Barbara’s generous
gift, and at Thanksgiving of 2004 Twin Oaks became the gathering place
large-scale Mitchell get-togethers.
Two years later my
dad and I returned to Twin Oaks, making it a tradition that this be the place
for Thanksgivings every other year. It was
a regular family gathering, and while I was both excited and slightly anxious
to begin my career as a baseball coach—I was working as assistant coach and
assistant sports information director at Pikeville College—there wasn’t
anything crazy going on in my personal life.
And then it
happened. Aunt Mere asked me to do the
prayer for Thanksgiving dinner, which was something I often did at family
gatherings (most likely because I have no problem speaking in front of large
crowds). I closed my eyes and gave a
routine blessing, making sure I did not mention Jesus for fear of offending any
of the non-Christians that were around the table. I don’t know what I said, but I remember the
feeling that washed over me that afternoon. It burned in my chest. And it said to me, “This feels good, doesn’t
it? THIS is what you should be doing.” I barely said a word at dinner.
After the meal I went
outside, looking up at the mountains and saying over and over again, “Are you sure?” I was a mix of frustration—“why didn’t you
let me know this when I was in college?!”—and fear—“can I really do this?!” I sat with those feelings all weekend, and
when I returned to Wise County shared them with my priest. And the rest is history.
But this blog post
is not so much about my Call Story as it is about Twin Oaks. It is about all those places in our lives
where we meet God in all of God’s crazy shapes and forms. There has been something magical about Twin
Oaks. For starters, Aunt Mere, after
learning that it was at Twin Oaks where I first felt “The Call,” somehow
stumbled upon an 1892 edition of the Book of Common Prayer in the attic. It was funny because so many Hatcher men had
been ministers, but none of them were Episcopalian! And as the years have gone by Twin Oaks has
been a sanctuary, separated from the craziness of the world and free of
television, cell phone reception, or internet (though this year wireless was
available—not a good idea!). Members of
our family come to Twin Oaks and lay down all of the everyday problems that
plague us in school or at work. It refreshes
us. It binds us with Barbara’s family,
as well as members of our own that are long gone. It is a holy place. It is a thin place.
This year the magic
was palpable. My cousin Maggie got
engaged to her wonderful boyfriend Rob at Twin Oaks over the weekend. And because she was the first grandchild to
get engaged after the passing of our grandmother, she got to have our dear Mimi’s
ring. And as we gathered for dinner my
dad played a cassette tape (remember those?!) of my great-grandfather singing
hymns of thanks. As the voice of one of
my heroes filled the room singing “Bless This House” and “For the Beauty of the
Earth,” I teared up. I knew God was in
that space. God has always been in that
space.
It is likely that
this was the last Thanksgiving that our family will spend at Twin Oaks. Aunt Mere will be putting the house on the
market, and the grandchildren will be scattering in even more directions in the
coming months. Times change. But the love of family does not. We may not see each other at Twin Oaks in the
future, but there will be other thin places, other spots here and there where
we feel the overpowering love of God and the love of family. Who knows?
Perhaps our lives will be transformed in those spaces, as well. Just as my life was transformed at Twin Oaks
in 2006 and Maggie and Rob’s lives this year.
The Mitchell Family at Twin Oaks in 2013.
Everyone deserves a
Twin Oaks. Everyone deserves that place
of nourishment, refreshment, peace, and love.
My family has been fortunate to call Twin Oaks such a place these past
10 years. I don’t know what the new
place will look like. But wherever there
is love, I know there God will be also. So
where is your Twin Oaks? I hope that in
the coming days and weeks you and those you love find yourselves there. Maybe you’ll even run into God like I did!
