Taking My Time

A reflection from Pastoral Director, Tripp Hudgins, after one year at Richmond Hill

I am on the porch. Of course I am.

It is important that we all have a place where we can clear our heads and get our priorities straight. Jesus would often go off to be alone and pray. That’s what this porch is for me. It is my chapel. It is my altar in the world. It is my cell.

“Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” - Abba Moses

I look at the city, and I am reminded that Richmond Hill exists for the spirit of the city, for the sake of the city. Healing, as I have been reminded, is a universal and constant need, and Richmond Hill’s overarching mission is to be a place of healing.

From the legacy of slavery. From the cruelty of abuse. From trauma. From addiction. From the systems that would crush us…

I listen to the traffic as people drive through town. Richmond sits on the interchange of two major highways, I-64 and I-95. There is an enormous rail yard not far from where I sit. An airport lies only a few miles away. Planes, trains, and automobiles remind me that Richmond is part of a much larger network of communities and jurisdictions and that each person who travels through has a story to tell.

From our hilltop, we are afforded perspective on the human condition. Our practices and rhythms here at Richmond Hill are outlines of the human condition, containers for the hurts and the healing.

I have had to relearn that rhythm over this last year…and establish complementary rhythms. The last time I lived here, I did not have a family to care for. Now, the rhythms of marriage and parenthood are in partnership with the rhythm of Richmond Hill. Life here is polyrhythmic.

A year ago, I joked that it would take me the first year to learn everyone’s names. This ended up being more true than I had imagined. Residents, staff, volunteers, the Council, and the myriad people who call Richmond Hill their spiritual home are a part of the Richmond Hill community, and I serve them all.

I think I know everyone’s names now. Maybe.

Leadership is about many things, but one of those things is pacing. My step-mother’s father, Old Paul, has been much on my mind lately. He was a Baptist minister who served a pulpit until he was 80 years old. He served three congregations in his long ministry. Three. That’s unheard of now. The average tenure now is 3 - 5 years. There are many reasons for this shift in practice, but one of the fruits of longevity that has been lost is pacing. Ministry does not need to be frantic. Decisions do not necessarily need to be made all at once. A community might be better served by the slow unfolding of relationships and the building of community rather than “decisive leadership.” Of course, change happens. Shift happens. Ministry through the changes and shifts, however, is a long-term endeavor. Old Paul would tell me that you are just getting to know the place in the first seven years. After that, you can start making the important changes. Learn to love the community and the individuals first. Slow. Down.

I have been at Richmond Hill for a year. We are barely getting started. Pacing is everything.

And I really do have a three, five, seven, and fifteen year vision for Richmond Hill.

There will be changes and shifts, needs will arise in that time, but the overarching pace is slow. I believe it needs to be. “Slow church” is the right pace for a monastery. I am inspired by Alice Waters’ “slow food” philosophy. Each of our twelve Rules asks us to slow down and to pay attention to the place we have been called, to the community we live to serve.

So, here I sit on the porch…taking my time.

Y’all be excellent to each other.

Tripp