Maron Lyons Van

My first yearning for God comes from an early memory of being carried by my mother down a boardwalk that connected our converted chicken-house home with our nearby neighbor's house. Hearing the sound of her feet on the boardwalk, I woke up slightly and experienced the bright light through the pink blanket that was covering me. This was to become my touchstone, my memory of God's love for me through my mother's care. It was this moment that created the yearning for the perfect feeling of love and security that I experienced then, but I was not to understand this for a long time to come. It was not until I was an adult that this memory resurfaced at a time when I was deeply troubled.

When I was nearly three, a baby boy was born to my mother following a very difficult pregnancy. He died within a few days of his birth. I learned years later from my father that my mother's first child, another boy, had also died in tragic circumstances. Her deep depression and sorrow did not leave her until my sister, Linda, was born when I was five. I only mention this because of the effect these times had on my life at such a critical age when the need for love and security is so important. As a child, I was unable to figure out how to be visible and be loved. No one showed me how to do it. The problems of my adult life were, of course, a continuation of these same unresolved feelings I had when growing up.

I was born September 7, 1936, Labor Day, in North Bend, Oregon. When I was three, a wonderful thing happened to me, I was taken to Sunday school and I found out that God loved me. I am not sure I knew anything about God before then. I only went a few times, but when I was seven and eight we lived closer to a church and I took myself to Sunday school. When we did not live close to a church I found other families that would take me. I needed God! I yearned for God, though I would not have used those words. I did not even have words for my yearning but I knew I had found something I needed. I found great comfort in the embrace of the church. I have often wondered what those Sunday school teachers thought of that little girl coming to their class all by herself.

We moved to Eugene the summer of my sixth year, I went to grade school, then high school and on to the University of Oregon where I majored in elementary education and also enjoyed art classes. It was there I began to seriously wonder: "Who am I?" I already knew that I was interested in service-oriented connections with people. I had been president of the service club at Eugene High School in my junior and senior years, instituting a service project for underprivileged kids and this was something that turned out well.

I met my husband while we were both attending the University of Oregon. We married at the end of that school year, June 22, 1957. Mike had just received his Master of Fine arts degree and had found a job in the Lincoln County school system teaching art. It was a big experience for both of us. He taught in Toledo for four years. It was a good time for us as we began to get to know each other, something we did not have much time to do before we knew we were in love and wanted to marry.

We had decided to have four children before we married. Kimberley was born December 1958 in Toledo. Jonathan was born in September 1960. By the time Jon was born, we had joined the Episcopal Church in Toledo, and I had really fallen in love with the experience. Mike, Kim and I were all baptized on January 25, 1959, at St. John's Episcopal Church. Mike and I were confirmed by our bishop that same day. I had come home.

A move to Eugene preceded the birth of sons Christopher in September 1962, and Thomas in September 1964. Mike taught high school there for the next 25 years and worked on his own professional painting career. I, too, started my own work in teaching puppetry. First in my children's grade school, and then on to producing performances that involved our whole family and played in our hometown. Through the following years, I had opportunities to teach in Artist in Resident Programs, and invitations to teach in colleges and universities within Oregon. This was an aspect of my life that was truly gratifying.

We were faithful to our Episcopal congregation all this time. I did everything that I as a layperson could do and loved it all. The community we found at the Church of the Resurrection were people our whole family loved to be with in worship, work and play. We are still members and still active. However, all was not well in my personal life. My childhood insecurities were again causing me much distress, and I did not know how to handle them as an adult any more than I did when I was that lonely little child. I did have a strong religious life, but could not access the help I needed.

One morning, drinking my second cup of coffee in the quiet of our bedroom and reading a volume of our Church Teaching Series, I came across the idea that if one made the rough places smooth and the hills and valleys flat, (Isaiah), and looked within, one could find God. I decided to try it. I looked within and was swept away into a vast space. There was the sound of breath and a knowing that I was loved unconditionally, without reservation. That I was forgiven, that I have always been forgiven. My unformed question was answered. Can I return? Contemplation was knowing. How long was I away? I do not know. What was contemplation? I did not know. What had happened? I did not know. What I did know was my whole life had changed. I no longer had my former point of view. Everything had more depth and clarity, the sky, people's faces and of course, my life. This is the moment when that early memory of being carried home by my mother, my touchstone for love, once again became reality. And as so many Christian hymns proclaim, I knew I needed to show others they are loved, forgiven and treasured, just as I had found that I was.

My church life changed and grew as I changed and grew. In 1982 I began to seriously test my vocation for ordained ministry by seeking ordination. It was a long process, taking six years of paperwork, interviews, setbacks, and including three years of monthly weekend schooling and finally ordination exams lasting three days. I was ordained deacon in a glorious service on January 9, 1988. I was at a place of a new beginning.</p>

A deacon's life is a life lived in service to the church and to the world in the name of Christ. For me, it is lived in thanksgiving for the endless love God has shown me. I seem to be most effective in my service at the altar, and in my work with women and children, especially with those who suffer in abusive relationships and poverty. That is where God takes over and where good things happen.

I have been volunteering at The Relief Nursery in Eugene, Oregon for twenty-six years as a classroom volunteer and as a rider on the van that takes some of the children to and from school. Relief Nursery is a therapeutic school for children ages six months to kindergarten. It supports families and children who are victims of child abuse, or where there is danger of abuse taking place. Teachers tell me that my quiet calm presence is valuable to children who are in distress. Children trust me to be their friend and comforter and to help them return to a place within themselves where they can find peace and happiness. I can help them with this because I have learned to do it for myself.

I manage a church discretionary fund that is used primarily to help people with rent and utility money. I have developed a program that allows congregation members to help in the distribution of my fund by handing out to street people packets of information about emergency housing, food boxes, food kitchens, etc. The packets also contain a local bus pass and a coupon for a one-dollar food item from a fast food outlet. The packets are widely dispersed and much appreciated. We have given out about seven hundred and fifty packets so far.

I trust I have not made this seem too easy. Like most of the people who seek my help, I, too, need help. I keep praying for the power and grace of hope so that I may pass it along to those who are in such great need that they have little hope left. The money I give from the church discretionary fund is very important, but for those who truly suffer, coming into the presence of hope makes real change seem possible in their lives. It is the presence of one who has hope that enables those who struggle against poverty and abuse to persevere.

In 2001 our son Jonathan died of pancreatic cancer. Something that does not seem possible to have happened, even eight years later, except for the pain that is still with our family even in the midst of our thanksgiving for his life. In the fall of that year I began a three-year course of study in spiritual direction at our Diocese of Oregon Cathedral in Portland. It was something I felt called to do. In the course of study, I learned many spiritual practices to enhance my own worship as well as gaining an understanding of how to guide others in spiritual direction for their lives. As I finished my course of study, I was invited to join a group of five other women in the study and practice of the spiritual life. It has been life-saving for me. It keeps me praying, changing, reaching inward as well as outward, and trying to keep a balance in my life. It helps me to see hope through despair and suffering, find forgiveness in forgiving and to spread the love God has for everyone.

Honoring Acknowledgement: With deep appreciation for her wisdom and friendship, Laura King