Out of our element

old First Ward building, now Stadium Ward

The Church has been established in Tacoma for a long time, and we meet in the first permanent building there, near downtown.  An independent hamburger joint sits across the street behind the building, and is the bane of Young Men's leaders whose boys abscond to it--except when some of the leaders have tended to gravitate there themselves....but I digress.

My father was stationed at Camp Lewis (as it was called then) for basic training near the end of World War II, and used to hitchhike up to Tacoma for Sunday meetings; Sunday School was held in a member's living room, and they were raising money to build this building.  It was quite fun to move here and have him walk in that building the first time he came to visit.  It is also a New England-type brick building somewhat similar to the ward where I grew up, though it's a little smaller.

Obviously, a building dedicated in 1950 eventually needs work.  It had had a full second story added a couple of years before we moved here in 1978; before that, there was only a partial upper section under the steeple, with two or three classrooms.  Now there is a row of three rooms which open up together and serve as the meeting space for Primary, with a library and three more classrooms clustered on the other end.  When we moved here, people were still talking about the addition and the problems with the roof.

In 1993 (I can compute the year because Emily was a senior) the powers that be determined that they needed to do major work.  The chief portion of the remodeling costs was a whole new heating system, and first-time-ever air conditioning.  They planned to do the work over the summer, and we would have to be out of our building.  It was supposed to take five months.

We shared the building with a Samoan ward, which was much larger, and they were moved into the stake center.  The only other buildings in town were part of another stake, and the ones in our stake were 'over the bridge' in Gig Harbor, and full.  So they had to figure out somewhere for us to go.

They made an arrangement with a small black community church, whose numbers were a little sparse, and who needed the rent money we could give them.  The pastor and congregation graciously agreed to push their service from 11:00 to 11:30, so that we could meet from 9-11:00.  This meant that we would have sacrament meeting and third hour meetings (priesthood [men], Relief Society [women's auxiliary], Young Men, Young Women), and Primary [children] would have a shortened time where they would have singing and sharing time all together with no classes.  There would not be Sunday School.

This church had originally been built as a Kingdom Hall [Jehovah's Witnesses] so it had no windows. (I don't know the reason behind that.) You entered the front door straight into the chapel, and there was a closed-off kitchen area to the left, which is where the Young Women met, with all the girls age 12-18 in one group instead of separate classes.  I think we only had about ten girls total, anyway, with three leaders.  We did not have separate instructors in addition to the presidency because there weren't enough girls to need them and there weren't enough adults in the ward to go around; all staffing was a challenge.  The kids and the men went downstairs for their meetings after the main service, and the sisters got the chapel. I was serving in the Young Women, and my designated class was the 14-15 year olds (Mia Maids).

It was a bit of a lark for the summer, and it was within our ward boundaries.  This church sat in the middle of a residential block, homes on either side, in an older neighborhood now somewhat run down.  It felt a little guilty to feel a little free with an abbreviated Sunday schedule.  Other weekday meetings were held elsewhere, homes, parks for activities, etc.  The bishop owned the house next door to his family, and had quickly finished the basement so that he had the bishop's office there, and seminary met in the biggest room.  Since the tenant was his sister-in-law, he was able to make those arrangements work. (We lived on the next block, so our kids walked to seminary--yay!--, Hubby only had to get up to take everyone to school after.)

Summer was okay.  There was no air conditioning in this borrowed space, but we didn't have it in our building either (yet) so it didn't matter.  What did matter soon was that the furnace was broken.

Since we were supposed to be back in our building by the first of October, we might get a little chilly, but it wouldn't be so bad.  However...you know the line about the best laid plans?  They definitely went awry.  (I know, it's actually Gaelic, but tough.)

There were unanticipated problems and delays.  October stretched out into November, December, then January, and our building wasn't cleared for renewed occupancy until the beginning of February.  In the meantime, it was winter and it was cold.

Our bishop brought in a big kerosene heater, the kind that blasts heat out loudly in one direction like a rocket, and is designed for construction sites.  Outdoors.  It was probably not lawful to use inside a building, but he was a firefighter and assured us that he was being very safe and careful and had safety measures at hand.  At least once we had morning phone calls cancelling church because of snow or the pipes being frozen, but other times we would show up and be told that we would have the sacrament only and then go home, because it was too cold.  Speakers would be rescheduled.  Announcements, opening hymn, opening prayer, sacrament blessed and passed, closing hymn and prayer.  Shiver, hug, bye!

Hymns--our oldest daughter was the pianist and this church had an old upright which had seen better days.  She was adept at the notes, but the cold was another thing.  She tried to play once with knit gloves, and immediately found that it couldn't be done, whipped them off with her teeth, played through the song, and put them back on as fast as she could.  She would have tried fingerless gloves if we had found them anywhere, but even so it would have been difficult with anything impeding her hand movement.

We all brought blankets and didn't take off our coats.  The Primary presidency arranged all the chairs in a big U and brought extra blankets to spread across laps huddled together.  If you did have your own blanket, you could wrap yourself up in it.  Our girls brought sleeping bags to step into and then sit down on the folding chairs in the kitchen when it was time for class.

We should have made t-shirts that said 'urban pioneers' or 'I survived...' what? how do you make a capsule statement?  'The Wright Park Ward Exile,' I suppose.  We all have a shared story to say, remember when? and nod knowingly.  Though only a few of us are still here now.

I thought that we could have bought a great deal of goodwill by paying to fix the furnace for this sweet, struggling older minister; it would have been a great gift to his congregation.  I think the brother in our ward (a former bishop) who was the designated agent may have broached the question to the higher-ups, but it didn't fly.  I still think it's too bad.

But we were back, we were warm, and we were bound together in purpose, trying to reestablish the normal patterns of meetings and surroundings and callings out of the semi-chaos that had been.  And the responsibility for Primary suddenly was mine as the new president. (See yesterday.)  Gulp.