I still haven’t unpacked my suitcase completely from last weekend’s trip to Hutchmoot. Maybe I think that the spell will be broken if everything gets put away — that the conversations and richness of the experience will be shelved along with the new books we bought.
I don’t know why I fear that. I cannot put away the souvenirs in my soul. Moments from the weekend stand out as gracious gifts:
Our early arrival to Nashville due to the time change. We forgot that Nashville is on Central TIme, so rather than show up at our host’s home early, we went to the Parthenon and walked around a bit. David had been there twenty-some years earlier; I had never seen it.
Walking into Church of the Redeemer and being approached by Pete, the host of the weekend, asking if we’ve met before. I should have said yes, because the entire weekend had that vague sensation of my having been there before. A unique community has formed at Hutchmoot — one that says, “We are happy you’re here. We know the Lord has brought you, and we can learn from you as much as you can learn from us.” We were part of the family that they hadn’t met yet.
Looking across the table at Lanier Ivester, a woman whose writing I so admire, and having her tell me, “If you like to write, then you are a writer,” after I clumsily stammered my way around the question. I’m not sure what the exact percentage is, but it feels like half the people in this crowd have published/recorded/done something amazing. And yet humility permeates all, because everyone shares the recognition that the Lord gives gifts as He sees fit. The Giver gets the glory.
The freedom to geek out and have people appreciate it: Shakespearean Star Wars. A workshop on “Writing Close to the Earth” where I felt like my brain might explode, there were so many connections to Charlotte Mason education. A film review of Man on Wire that sounded like poetry. Hearing Keith Getty talk about the arduous process of composing new hymns and Kevin Twit talk about the arduous process of preserving old ones. My cup overflows.
My first Anglican worship experience, and the realization that communion can be a loud, joyful, generous experience as well as a quiet, sober one.
Since I process as I write, I will probably be blogging more about the experience. For now, I am content to express thanks.