Charlie finally got his Big Mac. I guess since we leave tomorrow, there’s really no point in banning the fast food experience. We are winding down.
It makes sense to look back at what we’ve tried to do, but frankly it’s hard to know who’s doing what for whom. Tonight, Robin came by with two sacks of Alaska ball caps. He thought we’d like a remembrance. We’ve been fed and cajoled and treated so well that it’s more than humbling.
We could see that the work we did here at St. David’s was appreciated, but it’s hard to see just how much we learned from that work. What we learned is all inside us. You’ll have to wait to see how it matures.
St. David’s Episcopalians started out somewhere else altogether, but in the ‘80s, they built the first part of this church in Wasilla. In June of this year, they had raised enough money to put in the new addition. This is where we are sleeping and bathing and eating and blogging.
The Rev. Mark Boesser was the first priest of this congregation when they used to meet in the laundry room of the apartment building where Melba Pettit lived on KGB. Nine people met for the first time there on Sunday, Nov. 6, 1977.
In February of 1978 , they’d had enough of the laundry room and started meeting in the Sacred Heart Catholic Church. Occasionally they’d meet at the Meier Lake Center, which the diocese owned.
Once in a while the Rev. George Beacom would serve. Apparently, there are some stories about “George.”
St. David’s has had only four full-time priests. The Rev. Dyana Johnson, who is here now visiting the Rev. Ann Whitney, served from 1992 until her last Sunday on Jan. 30, 2005. Paul Klitzke became the rector on August 7, 2005. His Aloha service was March 14, 2010, when Ann took over as interim priest.
Ann was the archdeacon of deacons for the Alaska diocese before joining St. David’s to help Paul, who then managed to get called to Hawaii while we were in the planning stages of our mission trip, so Ann has born the brunt of the planning. And by the way, she participated in Alaska’s fly-abouts during their recent search for a bishop. (Sound familiar?)
Ann is now interim rector of this wonderfully friendly church. There are about 60 parishioners, 45 of whom are active.
Apparently, Alaskans aren’t necessarily the most enthusiastic church-goers, and St. David’s would like to work on that welcoming piece that’s often so elusive to churches these days. Our only advice was that they not forget who they are because who they are is warm, loving and wonderful.
Trappers Creek Fellowship had different problems, what with having to throw out the Methodists. Sort of. Their story reads a little like a soap opera. They first had a Methodist lay priest whom they all liked, but whom the synod took away. Another home-grown pastor came to them, but got caught up in a political firestorm when she tried to help a young girl who claimed that another pastor in Willow was stalking her.
Well, the Methodists sent someone to investigate, determining that not only was the story false, but that the Trappers Creek pastor should be moved out. Then they curiously tried to send the Willow pastor to Trappers Creek. You can imagine how that went over.
That, in a nutshell, is how the Trappers Creek Fellowship became Lutheran. Wouldn’t you? They are buying the church from the Methodists, and have done well enough on fundraising that they have only $3,000 left.
But in the process, they’ve lost most of their congregants. They estimate they have maybe 10 people who regularly attend. I think we met more than half the members of the church, then.
We like to think of them like the mustard seed. It’s not about how many people you help; it’s about where you plant the seed and how it grows.
Today, we took the day off to visit the Alaska Native Heritage Center in Anchorage. I came away with another message. I know it was for us:
“My grandmother was raised before there was any contact with the outside world. She taught me in the old traditional ways and those traditional ways are caring, sharing, and loving. Today it helps me to know who I am and where I stand.”
-Dolly Komakhuk of the Inupiaq
Kathy