Field Trip to Marshall Part One

We often use words like, "awesome", "incredible", "exciting", and "amazing" so much so that at times they can loose their effect or depth. But believe me when I tell you that my past week was truly awesome, incredible, exciting, and amazing. From the 6th of January until early this morning the 13th of January I was in the rural Alaskan village of Marshall. I thought Bethel was rural and in the middles of no-where... I had no idea. Marshall is a landlocked town of only a couple hundred people, 95% Yup'ik with 2/3 of which are Russian Orthodox and the other third Catholic. With that in mind, it was the perfect time to experience Marshall as I went during the time known as Slaviq, the Russian Orthodox Christmas season. The town celebrates it together, both faiths sharing in this unique cultural experience. I'll go over the intricacies of Slaviq later, so stay tuned.

Everyday I was there I journaled on the events, the discussions, and the happenings of the day. I'd like to share my rich experiences with you here on my blog. So for each day I was in Marshall, I'll do a blog entry on it, because trust me there is a lot to be said...


In this is love:not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins (1 Jn 4:10).

The above scriptural passage was part of the daily reading for the day I left for Marshall. I kept it with me as my mantra throughout the visit, meditating on the Love God has for us through all of our own flaws and failings, through good times and bad. Though I was assigned to go to Marshall to help Clara, the parish administrator, to get the new confirmation class up and running again, it seemed I had my own immersion trip and spiritual retreat. From the first day I was there I knew it was going to be an intense trip and I could see the importance of God's Love for us everywhere, in things seen and unseen.

It was only a short ride in, what apparently passes for, an airplane over the tundra, the frozen Yukon, mountains and trees that I arrived in Marshall, Alaska. I had my snow pants, parka, gloves, hat, and scarf already on, which was a good thing too because I could see my breath even while in the plane. We landed on a runway with small mountains, tundra, and trees surrounding us and no town in sight. Marshall was another two miles away.

As soon as I stepped off the plane the wind was so insistent on its strength that it blew off my hood, hat and scarf. I began to chase my things around the bottom of the plane, looking pretty ridiculous. The other native passengers stood there starring at me and probably thinking, "who is this blond girl? And what is she doing?" Then they handed me my luggage and asked me if I had a ride. Looking to the east and west, seeing nothing but wilderness, feeling nothing but freezing, and seeing no white truck that I was told would pick me up, I shouted over the loud wind "yes thank you!".

When I arrived at the Catholic Church, named Immaculate Heart of Mary, I felt much more at home. It looks like Immaculate Conception, only smaller, and with a patron to whom I have one of my greatest devotions. Perhaps it was the solitude or the quietness, but there is such a peace there. I actually could see for the first time why people find Bethel to be too big, busy, and overwhelming. For the first time in a while, I felt calmed.

After I settled into the little upstairs apartment, I called Clara. She invited me over to her house to meet her. "Go seven houses down and one back", she said. I don't know why I was anxious that I wouldn't be able to find it, but when I walked outside and saw the little rows of houses that essentially and entirely was the whole town, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I met her husband Moses, her daughter Tamlyn, and her grandson Shale. Her husband is Russian Orthodox, yet she and her children are Catholic. It was such a comfort to hear her talk about the close relationship between the two churches. After a short while, her husband went next door to take a steam (for they do not have a shower), Tamlyn went to her friend's house, and her grandson (who I noticed says "pop" not "soda", mind you) was taken home.

It was getting late and since everyone was going their own way, I figured it time to excuse myself. Then Clara said that she wanted to show me something. She took me into her short hallway and pointed to the pictures of her children. The reason why she answered, " I had five or so" when I asked her how many children she had became more clear. "This is my eldest son Matthew. He killed himself two years ago. This is my daughter Andrea. And this is Tamlyn of course. And this is my daughter Paula. She killed herself five years ago". I didn't know what to say to the woman I met only an hour ago. So for the moment I stood silent. She wept. I put my arm around her.

She went into the history of their depression and who they were back then and how she used to feel about it all. Clara then said that now she sees how their deaths make her more grateful for life, that though she has sorrow , she knows that she should keep going on, that she still has people to love and people who love her: "Who cares if it is raining or cold? Who needs to worry all the time when things are sad? We have each other. We have people to love. What else do you need?"

A smile came to her face when she started telling me all the wonderful things her son had done in his life. Not extraordinary things like a big time job or being top of his high school class. Nothing you could put on a resume, for they were not important. She told me how he would help elders in and out of cars and carry luggage for people and look after his sisters. "He was always always kind", she said proudly. "He was a good person". I told her that she must have been a good mother.

Clara believes in the old Native ways and beliefs, as the vast majority in the town does, particularly in the belief of spirits coming back to be connected (often times) to a specific person. One night recently, one of Matthew's friends had a dream that Matthew came to him and told him that Jesus gave him a second chance. He was coming back to stay by Andrea, his sister, to help her. She talked about her deep belief in forgiveness and Christ's love in forgiveness and her certainty of her son's eventual placement in heaven. She also advised strongly to stay away from vices, like drugs and alcohol, because that is what weakened her son to loose his way.

I told her to keep closely to the joy that she has about how much her son loved in his life and how much he was loved by her and others. She said she would and that we should all pray the Rosary and pray always. That night I prayed to the Blessed Mother for their souls and any journeys that they may be on, still connected to this world. Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.