It is 6:06am on May 30th, 2024. I am sitting in the basement of our ranch house, my son Morgan just popped in the door of our laundry room where I have a writing desk, dropped some clothes on the floor, and said, “hows it going Mom?” Upstairs there are five other cowboys, men and women ranging in age from 14-54, they are all taking first sips of coffee, within twenty minutes they are planning to be out the door. The vet and his technician will be here later to semen test our bulls. Our crew is going to get the bulls from pasture and bring them home to the working chute. This set of mammoth animals will turn in at the gate and trot through the yard. This is a pretty normal morning around here.
Twenty five years ago today I woke up in my Aunt Elva and Uncle Larry’s home in Regina. I was single, freshly done my theological training and I was going to attend the final day of the 1999 version of the United Church’s Annual Conference in Saskatchewan. At that conference I was to be ordained. That means that through a special ceremony I was granted a new status. I would no longer be Kathy Kyle, I would become Rev. Kathy Kyle and I would be given the permission and trust of the church to conduct the sacraments of marriage, baptism and communion. I have two memories of the personal preparations for that day. I remember ironing the garment I would wear in the ceremony, my alb, and I remember writing in my journal. Aunt Elva had a beautiful iron and I remember deciding for myself that I would buy myself a similiarly beautiful iron for the alb sessions that lay ahead.
I don’t suppose if someone had been able to give me a fast forward glimpse of this morning, twenty five years later, I could have believed it. My plan that morning was to live with my parents in Saskatoon for one more month then move to the place where the church had assigned me, two little towns called Gainsborough and Carievale. I would spend three years, the minimum requirement of the church at the time, then I would return to Saskatoon. Despite having had some really tough parts to my story, loss and illness in our family, I had experienced many wonderful unfoldings in life and I believed/planned that when I returned to Saskatoon, surely, the job of my dreams would be open and I would become the chaplain I had trained to be. So as this morning dawned twenty five years ago, I had a career plan of sorts, but I didn’t have a personal plan. How does an almost 31 year old woman move to a place where she doesn’t expect to find a mate, work for three years, move again, get settled and employed again, meet Mr. Right and have children before the biological clock has wound down? I didn’t know.
As I sit and ponder what I remember about that day I am struck again by my persistent inability to remember details. I remember it was a powerful experience. I remember that there were two people in the crowd whose feelings I had really hurt, not by being a jerk, just by being human, I think. I remember that many family gathered, some not used to the churchy stuff we were doing, and I felt a little curious and a little worried about how it was going down for them.
I remember my Mom. She was getting her head around the fact that her church was sending her daughter so very far away from her when she needed me. I had spent the prior year helping Mom with Dad’s care as he lived with dementia. I also remember that she had a special gift for me. When her beloved Grandma had died Mom received her wedding band. It was in her jewellery box for eleven years or so, until Mom tucked it into a ring box and brought it to Regina to present to me. My Great-Gram was 32 years old when the United Church was created. She was a church woman through and through, the United Church mattered a great deal to her. Mom presented me with her ring and said, “Grandma would be so proud to have a minister in the family, I want you to have this.” I put it on. It fit perfectly. I have worn it every day since. I call it my ordination ring and it reminds me of the identity and the promises that were part of the vows and the blessings that flowed that day.
Other things……
In my first few months on the job in 1999 I led the church at Carievale as we baptised a little girl named Taylor. When I met with her parents to talk over the baptism, explore its meaning and how things would unfold I met her older sister, a small girl who impacted me that fall evening with how much she loved potatoes. This past Sunday I had the chance to baptize that potato loving girl’s first child, the beautiful baby was wearing the same dress that her Auntie Taylor had worn 25 years earlier when we baptized her. Yesterday I popped my head into the kitchen of the Carievale restaurant that Taylor has created. We quickly checked in about the start of preparations for her wedding this coming summer.
The things that unfolded in those days in 1999, meeting a local rancher, finding him to be a person whom I could release all my other plans for, and pursue a life with. Trying to live life as faithfully as possible. This has all meant a longevity of relationships that has seen me through a whole generation of life. Later this summer I will conduct a wedding for the daughter of one of those couples I conducted a wedding for in my first summers as a minister. That will be the first second generation wedding I conduct. Twenty five years truly has passed.
Probably eight minutes before I needed to head out the door to get to the Carievale church this past Sunday I grabbed that alb I wore the day I was ordained. It was wedged into the back of my closet. I only wear it now when I am leading worship where we celebrate baptism or communion. I hung the alb by the door and realized with a little chagrin that the bottom was very wrinkly from the congestion in the closet. I whipped it off the hanger, ran down to this laundry room, yanked out the load that was waiting in the dryer and threw it onto my desk chair, grabbed some wet laundry from the washer and put it in the dryer with my alb, the wet laundry had a job to do, create steam. I returned to find my trick had worked.
Do you remember my Aunt’s high quality iron and my intention to provide that for myself? The dryer trick of this past weekend is telling. Twenty five years after that calm morning where I solemnly ironed my alb, there was not alot of calm. Final sermon preparations were interrupted by the need to unexpectedly go give a calf a bottle, I needed shortcuts like the dryer. Amid the chaos I had something better than a fantastic iron to tackle what was ahead. I had confidence. Born of experience but moreso the knowledge that I am part of a team. Russell is my greatest fan, believing in me and what I do. More than that, I have relied on the movement of the Holy Spirit to give me wisdom, strength, insight and clarity, over and over again as the years have gone by. I have not been let down. More than this my mission has been clarified. I am more convinced than I have ever been that this whole journey, for all of us, is about love. Jesus and I are a team in this. I take my cue from his way of seeing people, versus simply watching them. I take my cue from the fact that he never left anyone out. He stood up for people beat down by many forces in life. He was so smart.
I am still slightly in awe of the events of this day twenty five years ago, I am in awe of the wide variety of experiences it has allowed me and I am excited by the next twenty five years and the teamwork that lies ahead.
As Far As The Eye Can See 