We’re (sadly) not in Kansas anymore

If you look on a map to find Haviland, Kansas, you are going to need to zoom in. A lot. 

This tiny midwestern town – whose population is less than that of Woodhaven’s most proximate high school – is a couple hours due west of Wichita in the southern portion of the windblown state.

According to Wikipedia, Haviland has two claims to fame: a meteorite crashed near the town about 1000 years ago; and it is the proud home of Barclay College, a small Quaker college that is now Rob’s second alma mater.

Yes, while I tried to make good use of the Two Years the World Stopped by writing a book, Rob went to graduate school. He had felt nudged for a few years to dig deeper academically. What better time than a global, quarantiney pandemic?

Rob considered a few fields and programs. He was very decidedly drawn to an online master's program in Practical Theology at a tiny Quaker college in the Middle of Nowhere Kansas that we had heard so much about. 

Rob and I have attended a Quaker (aka Friends) church for the past 17 years. It is the first and only church home we have ever had. Our path to Friendliness is a cool story that I will tell another time. Suffice it to say, I first arrived at our church a questioning blend of atheism, agnosticism, and paganism and now seek to put my full weight on the Holy Spirit every day. Go God!

And so it was through many dear F/friends that Rob and I started hearing about Barclay College. As we got to know some of its graduates, it became clear that the private college offers a very solid education. And a bewildering adoration of the exceptionally flat hamlet in which it resides.

Indeed, as we prepared to travel to Haviland for Rob to receive his leather-bound diploma and fancy silk-and-velvet hood thingy, several alumni expressed uncharacteristic jealousy.

“I’m green with envy…wish we were there!”

“Man, I wish I were there with you!”

“The people are the best part!”

Honestly, we were very amused and skeptical about all this fangirling about a podunk wide spot in the road. We couldn't fathom it would come anywhere close to living up to all this hype. But we love a travel adventure, so we were excited to check out Haviland. And ecstatic to be celebrating Rob’s hard-earned graduation.

When we first arrived on campus, I told Rob I
wanted to get this photo ASAP after the 
ceremony ended because I figured there
would be a long line of graduates wanting to do
the same. Hahaha! This was before I realized
 there are no long lines in Haviland, Kansas.

 

Haviland is indeed in the middle of nowhere. It is surrounded by flat fields, making it pretty easy to spot from a distance due to the grain elevator just as you enter town and the clumps of trees that meander in and around the handful of buildings.

The town sports the barest of necessities: a bank, a fire department, a post office, a health center, an internet company, a coffee shop. No grocery store, no restaurant, no hotel, no retail of any note. There are stop signs but no stop lights, save for the active railroad crossing.

Rob eyeing the very empty, very quiet Main Street.
It felt very ghost-towny.

That moment when large farm equipment
casually motors through your college's campus.

Before leaving Woodhaven, I adorably printed out two copies of the Barclay campus map – one for each of us in case Rob and I got separated. Turns out, if you do a pirouette at the Student Center, you can see the entire campus. Although I never lost Rob, I am confident if I had, I could have found him simply by standing next to the Bear’s Den snack shop and trilling out “MARCO!”

Map almost to scale. Those light green circles
dotted about are trees.

Graduation was on Sunday afternoon. Rehearsal was on Friday afternoon. We spent the time in between eating in the cafeteria, chatting in the coffee shop, banqueting in the gymnasium, shopping in the campus bookstore, chatting with students, administrators, professors, and families, and surprising the heck out of ourselves by falling in love with the entire experience. Well, except for the food. This was NOT a Good Eatin' Trip.

With no restaurants in town, Rob and I
ate several meals at the school cafeteria.
It wasn't bad food, but it wasn't great food.
And it was often unidentifiable food.
Our best guess for this meal was a McRib knockoff.
God bless condiments.

Although we took some touristy detours outside of Haviland (more on that later), we found ourselves completely enthralled by the quiet, the peacefulness, the slow pace, the lack of traffic, and the true sense of community. It reminded me of how I felt when we left the San Francisco Bay Area and arrived at Woodhaven nearly 20 years ago.

Every person we met in Haviland was genuine, authentic, friendly, and entirely present. Despite it being Graduation and Alumni Weekend, there was not a sense of busyness or distraction or hurry. Space was made for conversation, for contemplation, for God, for community, for connection. It felt like a haven, an escape, a respite from the World Outside.

The folks at Barclay know this. They’ve named it. They call it The Haviland Bubble. Inside The Bubble, people do not lock doors, they do not drive cars, they do not worry about what their children are up to because they know many eyes are on them. Inside The Bubble, they focus on what is in front of them – people, education, faith, and growth. It was all rather intoxicating. Which was rather impressive given that in good Quaker tradition, I am pretty sure Barclay is a dry campus.

I crashed the Graduation Rehearsal on Friday afternoon because really, where else was I going? There was a total of 26 graduates, which included those earning associate's, bachelor's, and master's degrees. 

As I gazed at Rob from the comfy auditorium seat, I realized he was old enough to be the father of any of his fellow graduates except one. In fact, we were both likely older than many of the administrators and professors. That was a bit of a gut punch!

Attending the rehearsal also gave me great
intel about where to sit during the ceremony
to get the best photos

The generation gap shone most brightly during rehearsal when one of the undergrads had some crucial questions about the dress code for Graduation Day.

“Do we have to wear the hat?"

“Do we have to zip up the gown?”

I’m not sure what fashion statement the young woman was envisioning, but it was clearly being usurped by tradition. (Spoiler alert: she looked quite lovely on Graduation Day all hatted and zipped.)

Rob’s additional years (decades?) on the planet were also evident in his Baccalaureate speech. He was both honored and terrified to be asked to speak at the morning service. He watched past Baccalaureate speeches (yay YouTube!), did some Googling, and spent a week putting together his thoughts before printing out the final copy to bring with us to Kansas. He then uncharacteristically continued to finesse and edit his thoughts up to the final minutes before I kissed him goodbye and told him I’d be beaming from the audience.

I had read an early draft, so I knew the general content of Rob’s remarks. I also knew that he was scared to death and would nonetheless do an amazing job. I know this man. I have seen him work. I knew I would beam. And beam I did.

Rob’s Baccalaureate speech was deep, thought-provoking, personal, reflective, vulnerable, and applicable. He delivered it confidently, with a strong voice and measured pacing despite the physiology of terror I knew was consuming his body. Many people sought him out afterward to thank him for his words and commented how it gave them a new perspective. I already exist with an ever-present pride in being Rob’s wife. That day, my pride was downright sinful.

Is it just me, or does Rob look sort of
professorial?

Gotta admit, Rob looks quite smashing in
this gown, scarf, and chapeau ensemble.

The graduation ceremony itself perfectly reflected what we were learning are both the college and its people. 

The ceremony was not rushed. Time was given to recognize and praise both God and the graduates. As names were called, families and friends were encouraged to make noise in celebration – instead of being told to hold it all in until the end.  I WHOO HOOed unashamedly as I watched my best friend walk across the stage, receive a diploma with his name already on it (none of this big university waiting-by-the-mailbox-for 6-8-weeks nonsense), and kneel down to get hooded. I had witnessed firsthand all the hours and dedication and sacrifices culminating in that moment. I beamed yet again.

Perhaps one of the most poignant moments in the entire day, though, was Sarah’s speech at the Baccalaureate. Sarah was graduating with a bachelor's but is also very close to finishing her master's. Her husband was a fellow graduate.

As Sarah began her speech, she humorously questioned the wisdom of agreeing to speak at the service, especially while pregnant and with all the emotions that condition brings. And then, the emotions of the moment overcame her. Her voice quivered, her body shook, tears gently escaped from her eyes. She tried to breathe and tried to regain her composure as an auditorium watched, aching to know how to help.

Sarah looked behind her to the collection of professors and administrators who had been her champions from the first moment she became a Barclay student. She caught the eye of one in particular.

“Will you read this for me?” Sarah whispered just close enough to the microphone to be heard.

In a flash, Brockie – the college’s Chaplain – appeared next to Sarah, hugging her and holding her up as she seamlessly continued Sarah’s speech. After a few minutes, Sarah quietly signaled to Brockie that she was good now; she could finish the rest. Brockie gave Sarah a reassuring squeeze and sat down as Sarah – who is clearly a writer – finished her speech beautifully. Within her speech, Sarah thanked Barclay for helping her learn and trust how to ask for help when she needs it. Having witnessed exactly that, I was filled with respect for a college and its people who truly walk their talk.

Brockie and her family were among the 
incredibly kind, real, and friendly
people we met.  All the rumors were true.
The people of Haviland ARE the very best part!

 

Being Tourists

If you know us, you know Rob and I try to wring out every last bit of goofy fun and adventure when we travel. Of course, our brand of fun may leave others shaking their heads. Nevertheless, here’s how we entertained ourselves in amongst the graduation festivities.

Dodge City – Ever hear the phrase "Get the hell out of Dodge?" It originated in Dodge City, Kansas. DC was once a pretty rough and wild cow town. Like literally thousands of Texan cows came to the town to be loaded up on train cars and shipped to hungry northerners. Dodge City was also the setting for the TV series "Gunsmoke" which I have never watched but often see playing on TVs in retirement homes.

Dodge City's mascot of sorts –
El Capitan the Longhorn. He was very
large and bronzey.

Had a hankerin' for some sarsaparilla.
Mighty fine indeed.

The Big Well – The nearest town of any note was Greensburg, about 10 minutes west of Haviland. We saw some signs beckoning us to The Big Well Museum. We submitted. It was a hoot!

The circular museum – encasing a well about 109 feet deep – told three stories with intriguing detail. The first story was about the well itself – hand-dug in the late 1800s by local folks in an effort to lure new businesses and residents with promises of cheap and ever-present water. The second story was the utter destruction of the town in 2007 by a devasting Category EF-5 Tornado. The third story was how the town decided to rebuild itself as an environmentally green and sustainable community. While we entered the museum with smirks, we left with respect and appreciation. And wow, tornadoes are no joke.

I mean seriously, how could we NOT
check this place out??

No false advertising here!

Cotton Picking – I'm sort of embarrassed to admit how long it took me to realize that the white dots in some fields we kept passing were cotton. I kept thinking they were mineral deposits from crop fertilizer or something. Good gracious, 19 years in the boonies and I'm still a girl from the suburbs!

When I finally figured out what we were whizzing by, I implored Rob to find some field access suitable for sandals. A master of making my wishes come true, Rob parked our rental car on a side road and snapped some photos as I gleefully picked some cotton fresh out of a dusty field. It was soft and squishy and looked just like that little logo inside my t-shirts! There's a possibility I was trespassing – and that maybe importing wild cotton into Washington was some sort of Department of Agriculture no-no. Whatever. I'm quite excited by my delightfully organic Kansas souvenir.

I was especially excited because I
have vivid memories of my mom
doing the same thing when I was
about 5 years old and we were
on a road trip from Ohio to Florida.
Although she grew up on a farm (in
Idaho), she had never seen cotton in the wild.

Meteorite – It is estimated that about 1000 years ago, a meteorite hit Earth not far from Haviland. Remnants and a crater were discovered in the late 1800s. Or so says the interwebs. We really wish the Kansas Meteorite Museum could have provided verification, but it was on private property. And closed. Seemingly for years. We did get a small glimpse of this cosmological event at The Big Well Museum, though. And Rob reminded me that we also saw a remnant from the Haviland Find at the Houston Space Center a few months ago. Super cool!

Hard to say – or read – when the museum
was last available for visitors.

The afterthought addition of "One of the"
begs SO many questions!

Oklahoma – Rob has been to all 50 states. I am missing Alabama, South Dakota, Vermont, New Hampshire, and – until recently – Oklahoma. We had a couple of hours before the next forage in Barclay's cafeteria, so we naturally decided to go to Oklahoma. 

It was a pretty fun drive. The scenery was exactly what one sees in old timey Western movies. It was impossible not to imagine cowboys and Indians (yes, I know...) and stagecoaches and wild horses running amok. For some reason, I always thought of the Old West as being in, well, the West. Like Nevada or Colorado. But to most of the U.S. at the time, Kansas and Oklahoma WERE west. Go figure!

I can't be the only one who sings
the spelling of this state.

 

No clue what's next 

Rob doesn’t have any idea what he is going to do with a master's degree in Practical Theology. God made it clear he was supposed to get it, so we trust that eventually God will also make it clear why.

But as we got ready to drive away from Barclay College and leave Haviland via the dirt road north of town, Rob and I both knew we would be back. We met people we sincerely hope will become life friends despite the distance. We started talking about how we can be more involved with the college and its people. We agreed that next time we will fly in and out of Wichita instead of Denver (the cost savings was far less impressive after the 12 hour round trip trek). And next time we will pack snacks.

Because we agreed there will be a next time.

I AM SO PROUD OF THIS MAN!!