I have a confession

I have a confession to make. The sin I’m going to confess is different from the ones I preached about from the pulpit. It’s not an infraction against the Ten Commandments or the Sermon on the Mount. The news won’t travel in gossip circles. But it’s a fault, nevertheless – because it goes to ingratitude, which is a sin.

I’m guilty of not appreciating the people of Green Bay, Wisconsin.

The people here are helpful, like my upstairs neighbor who spent two hours helping me put a new battery in our van when it was twenty degree below zero, or the former parishioner who showed me how to change the oil in my lawnmower, and gave us a half cord of wood for our fireplace.

The people here work hard to make the world a better place, like the two couples at my old church who organize major mission trips every other year to places like Orange, Texas to rebuild houses after hurricanes.

The people here create ministries like St. John’s Homeless Shelter, the Micah Center, and the Ecumenical Partnership for Housing to address the problem of homelessness in our community.

And – this is not a minor thing – the people here hail from a football team, the Green Bay Packers, with the most congenial and well-behaved fans in the National Football League.

There is something about the Fox Valley that nurtures high quality people. Maybe it’s the spiritual energy of the Fox River or Lake Michigan. Maybe it’s the farms, which provide a vital sustenance that sustains hard work, creativity, and compassion. Maybe it’s Providence. But whatever the cause, the people here are salt of the earth.

And I haven’t appreciated them. That’s my confession.

Our family moves a lot. I’m a Methodist minister, and moving to serve churches is part of the deal. It’s called “itinerancy.” You can refuse, but if you do, it’s a hit to your career. So most of us move, and that means we don’t have deep roots. We get to know the people, the tendrils of familiarity begin to take hold, and then the Bishop calls and we move to a new place and begin again.

But something good happened last year. I lost my church. I know that doesn’t sound good. Losing my position as a parish pastor was a traumatic experience, but it had a welcome side effect. We didn’t have to move. And so we could decide to stay, and did – mostly for the kids, but also for us, because moves are always hard. And that has given me time to reflect.

I’m someone who tends to live in the future. It’s part of being creative – envisioning things that have never existed before. But with that comes a blind spot – not appreciating what already exists: my family and friends, my accomplishments, and where I live right now – in Green Bay.

Green Bay is where my children are thriving in their schools. This is where I had my most successful parish ministry. This is where I became a hospital chaplain, a ministry where I get to help suffering people every day. And where my dream of becoming a professional author is becoming a reality. All made possible and nurtured by the people of this area.

I’ve lived in Madison, Beaver Dam, Sun Prairie, Oconomowoc, Eau Claire, Chicago – even Sweden. These places have their charms, and people who are good in unique ways. But it’s the people of Green Bay who are sustaining my present and nurturing my future. It’s freeing to appreciate that.

And that’s my redemption: to be grateful for this place, and these people, right now.

— Nelsonia