He spoke into my life where my parents could not or would not involve themselves: the stunted places, those aching, relational gaps.
Husband of Pat, my beloved Theatre Arts mentor, Dr. Howard Stien entered my life slowly. Gently.
We shared coffee, anecdotes, laughter, the singular pleasures of knowledge vs. mysteries, and the love of writing. We shared our awe for a God who loves to graft stories and lives together.
How does one measure the relational graft that feels divinely ordained—and, finally, organic?
In Tree-speak, a graft can generate something new.
A graft can also repair an injured tree.
When the graft grows
Stien recognized my injured sapling-self. His regard grounded and sheltered me. Oak-steady, he modeled as well as articulated God’s grace in ways I could grasp. His quiet confidence in my abilities renewed hopes, long dormant.
With trademark humor, Stien wore black on exam days. I wish I’d taken one of his Biology classes.
Are you thinking of someone who’s been a spiritual father, or mother, to you? A person this special enters our lives as if sent—even fleetingly—and if we are open, we are indelibly changed.
My stoic Viking in denim was also a soft-spoken apostle for curious, wide-awake living. Kindly and wry, his questions took root in me. Generated ideas. Dropped seeds.
Over the years, he attended many of my performances. During our hug afterward, sometimes he’d say he’d felt nervous for me. Just like a dad.
The graft that “takes”
What will be said about us, after we’re gone?
Are we, like Stien, leaving a vibrant legacy?
Family man and farmer, scientist, pastor, and builder, tail gunner and neighborhood runner, author, professor, and mentor—he feels spliced into my spirit. Part of my extended family tree.
Had Stien been born a tree, I’d picture something oak-ish: resilient, and crowned with shining leaves.
In “Trees for the Forest,” from his book Thoughts While at Bat in the Tenth Inning, Stien writes:
“My intrigue with trees is about as old as I am . . .
[L]ately as I drive down a tree-lined boulevard
or stroll through the ponderosa stand bordering our community
I marvel at the unique individual beauty of these magnificent creations.
It’s like seeing persons in a crowd.”
He adds that while people’s names often elude him, he still recalls genus names from his early studies, like Quercus for oak.
The graft that takes keeps on giving . . .
Leaving Hospice a few days ago, the word terebinth dropped into my mind. Terebinth, often translated “oak” in the Bible, comes from the Hebrew word meaning “mighty.”
I’ve no idea what aftershave Stien wore, but the terebinth’s unique fragrance unites heady balsamic resin with notes of lemon and fennel.
You want to stay near a richly complex aroma. Breathe it in. Absorb its warmth.
Online, I explore Stien’s world, and learning eases my sorrow. I return with these spiritual parallels:
- A solitary tree, the terebinth holds its ground on exposed hillsides and in tangled ravines
- Substantial roots deeply penetrate soil and anchor the tree
- Fruitful, the tree provides soothing oil and strengthening proteins
- Valued for its inner treasure, the tree, when tapped, offers a cleansing solvent (turpentine)
- Handsome, even in great age, the terebinth is recognized by its subtle blossoms and winged leafstalks
He is nine days gone. It feels like a wing has gone missing.
“Although my father and my mother have forsaken me,
yet the Lord will take me up
[adopt me as His child].”
—Ps. 27:10 (AMPC)
Has someone been a spiritual father, or mother, to you?
Are you currently encouraging a sapling-soul in need of repair?
Laurie, I am sorry for your loss. This is a wonderful tribute to your friend and spiritual father. He sound so special. It’s lovely that you have something tangible to remind you of his strength and wisdom. My journey of faith has largely been a solitary walk. It would have been good to have had a special spiritual father or mother to help and encourage through the tough times or to clear a few brambles from the pathway.
But books have always been my comfort and guide and I have ‘met’ many wise, supportive mentors through them. Now I sense God asking me to help support a sapling or two as it appears the years have taught me things and there is a cup to offer another. It’s an honour to be a source of refreshment for somebody else as we abide in the Vine together.
Joy, how empathic you are. Thank you for your warmth and understanding. What you have gained through books and the solitary walk are deep. I see it in your writing and in your responses to others. Including me. 🙂 And thank you for the ways you are supporting others with your hard-won wisdom, which is also a gift, yes? Books make marvelous mentors. Are there titles you find yourself returning to again and again?
Laurie, I do tend to have favourite authors more than titles. Anything by Richard Rohr, Frederick Buechner, Brennan Manning and Joan Chittister, to name a few, are ones I frequent these days. 🙂
We are in agreement on those authors, though I’ve not read as much by Chittister. Your mention of her name encourages me to read more of her. Thank you!
My dearest Laurie, you’ve not only captured the essence of Stien with these images that clearly speak of what he meant to you, but you bring new meaning to the loving care he spread like the terebinth pictured here. I’m happy for the many who benefited from his unabashed love and caring heart and shall be forever grateful for how well he loved me all these sixty-eight years. It’s a love that never dies and I told him “I’ll be coming soon.” Thank you for this tribute and please know how much I love you too!
Dear Pat, I think of you both many times every day with love and gratitude. Your marriage, the finest I’ve ever seen, is yet another way that you both have mentored me and blessed my life, and the lives of so many others. Oh, how he loved you! I’ve been re-reading The Tenth Inning and delighting in his voice, his great love for God, for you and family, his humor, his observations, his questions. May God’s comfort enfold you every hour. I love you, dear Pat!
How blessed you both were to spend precious moments together in hospice. A chance to say Godspeed and thank you. I’m reminded of Leo Buscaglio’s The Fall of Freddy the Leaf, Like Freddy, your dear mentor will continue to nurture you .
Yes, priceless time together, a real gift, for which I thank God and his generous family. I must look for that story, Susie. The title is new to me. Thank you for the recommendation.
Sorry kid, I didn’t know losses like this are agonizing , yet they freeze our images and experiences in time. The memories are all good, and the pain subsides You’ll be ok.
That’s a comforting thought, friend, thank you. And you’re right, the memories are all good. I hadn’t yet put that into words, and it makes me fill up with quiet thanks.
This is beautiful, Laurie. I barely knew him from Whitworth Days, but am glad he was such a mighty oak in your life. Yes, I too have had several spiritual ‘parents’ in my life but one in particular who touched my life as deeply as Stien did yours. I consider him my spiritual father. He took a mighty leap ‘Home’ on February 29 four years ago. His writings are precious to me and continue to engage my heart and life.
Nancy, it’s an incomparable gift, isn’t it. How comforted you must be by having his writings. It sounds like you’ve internalized them. What a legacy of kindness and strength. And to have crossed over on Leap Day. Smiling as I think about this. Thanks for sharing.
A fitting tribute to a mighty oak of a man.
He was, indeed. Thank you, Eric. Your words mean a lot to me.
This is so touching and reminds me that all of my interactions with others are so important. You never know which saplings God has placed in your life to receive a drop, a cup, or a stream of water that keeps them growing!
Deanna, what a wise and lovely insight you share. I love this notion of containers, too, and the accompanying sense that God knows the ideal quantity of grace to pour through us to others.
This is a lovely tribute, Laurie. Thinking of you….
Thanks, Dana, a great loss, but then, what an even greater gain to have known and loved him. Thanks for your loving thoughts.
Beautiful tribute, Laurie. And once again, I appreciate your soul-searing question at the end.
Pacia, he was a prince among men. I am glad to introduce him to you and grateful for your gracious response.