Where the Sidewalk Ends
Remembering Patricia Hughes (March 27, 1942 - February 14, 2002)

by Carl Mazza

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows
soft and white,
And there the sun burns
crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird
rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
- Shel Silverstein

[This book was found, at the place marked, on Pat's night table at the time of her death.]

At Pat's crowded memorial service, I found myself repeatedly thinking of how fortunate we at Meeting Ground have been in meeting Pat, and to have had her with us these past seven years...

Yet, even as I mulled on this, I checked myself with an immediate afterthought - "but how could it ever be considered fortunate that most persons, Pat included, came to be part of our community through circumstances of chaos, turmoil, and catastrophe?"

Pat was indeed, in every sense of the name, a pilgrim. She was a person who, with a searching and restless heart, yearned for the place we call home on earth. She understood, perhaps better than most of us, that the place she was so earnestly seeking was really and truly to be found in the land of her soul. It was clear that she glimpsed it while she was with us at Meeting Ground. I know it's true because she helped us all to catch sight of it as well.

We can never diminish the tragic nature of homelessness in our country, and in our world today. It is not a romantic spiritual quest as some, who have never experienced it, might like to imagine. It is an ugly, catastrophic, unredeemable and inexcusable aspect of our social life which needs to end. We have seen quite enough to be able to say without hesitation that this is true - in tears of homeless children, and in the awesome fear in the eyes of their parents.

Even so, it is also undeniable that many who have been forced to endure this tragedy in their lives have developed deep spiritual sensibilities and insights, otherwise hidden from others whose lives have never been so dramatically interrupted. To be in such need demands engagement with one's true self, and a desire for bedrock reality and meaning in all relationships. Thus, homeless persons often grasp firsthand the understanding of the old spiritual concept of pilgrim - that finding our rightful home is a life-long quest of the soul, and it is discovered in and through close encounters of the human heart. Pat not only grasped this, she seemed to embody it.

First and foremost, Patricia Hughes was a teacher. You could see it clearly in everything she did. She had an educator's interest in young people; even as she befriended them - she slowly and carefully found ways to encourage them to think critically and to value the role of education in their lives.

She did the same with us all. At the numerous groups and committees, which seem always to be meeting at Meeting Ground, Pat would usually begin by listening attentively and quietly. As the discussion began to draw toward a close, and it would seem that Pat had nothing to say, she would quietly motion with her half-raised hand and pose a point which, despite its importance, might have passed unnoticed had it not been for her.

She presented her viewpoint like an educator, briefly and thoughtfully, and beautifully concise. More than once she changed a decision or altered the course of an entire deliberation.

Pat loved people in particular ways. When she gave the call to worship at Ron Serino's ordination service she spoke of the blessing that a young man had brought into her life, and thus wove the importance of Ron's personal ministry to her into a formal call to gather our thoughts around the way God works in and through our lives and relationships.

She had a dry and perceptive sense of humor. She understood the frailty and inconsistency of human life and behavior for what it was, herself included, and raised us, in moments of frustration and divisiveness, to a plateau of gentle laughter - at ourselves, our inconsistent ways, and our misguided claims to sainthood and holiness. She used humor to alter opinion and reveal hypocrisy.

Those of us who knew Pat through Meeting Ground became acquainted with her toward the very end of her life - the last years. Yet, in personal conversation Pat would frequently recall her youth as an Irish Catholic school girl, away from home for the first time, working for the summer in Ocean City, Maryland.

She would speak as if looking through those same eyes, describing the universe as with a newcomer's gaze and touching those sights, sounds and passions of our first love with a wider world, as yet unbroken for us. She carried that heart into her adult years, even to the end. Her perspective was as a young person filled with delight and desire for the best of life and blessing.

We will miss Pat's exquisite Sunday dinners at Clairvaux Farm, her carefully prepared chapel services, her subtle and mischievous smile which so frequently made us happy, and her uncompromising advocacy for persons everywhere on the margins of life.

She spoke with the knowledge of a soul which understood all too well the depth of homelessness. She never let anyone forget or lose sight of the real needs of hurting persons.

May she now find that which was, on earth, her heart's longing.