“2 minutes to tell you the story of 48 years”: A poem by Rev. Hannah Rowan

At the recent Vocational Deacons’ Ordination, our two new deacons were to give a short testimony of their call to serve others, however this was not possible at the time. Paul’s testimony was shared on Movement Online and in News for our Movement a couple of weeks ago, and now a spoken word poem by Rev. Hannah Rowan is shared here.

2 minutes to tell you
the story of 48 years

the first few
were spent right here as it happens 

Then All Saints in Ngaio
followed by a wild youth of Presbyterianism
and Baptists
they’re not all bad, I married one. 

Now back up the truck
At seventeen
I remember saying
I’ll go where you lead
as I walked past the Burma
on my way to leave school

teaching and mission
a move to Levin
two churches
two daughters
a changing of faith stages
a wilderness
Spiritual direction
saved my bacon
Then I became one
a director that is

A school is the heart of the community
Realised our kura had mine
which broke I think
the day a 5 year old sat on my knee
shaking with cold
from walking to school in the rain.
Chaplaincy began

I turned forty
and the Anglican light beckoned once more.

I lived with the calling
enlarge the place of your tent 

the wandering
the wondering

am I called to be ordained?

It’s not a journey for the faint hearted, just sayin’

But the call remained.

Here I am Lord, send me.

To the community

To the church

And for those times when these two become one

we are so thankful. 

The quote of this journey belongs to my doctor
who said

if they don’t want a kind person like you, they can just go to hell 

But this is the cathedral, so perhaps I won’t say that,
though it is kinda funny. 

E te Atua, Ihu Karaiti, Wairua Tapu, taku whanau
To all those who have walked alongside and sometimes carried
a very broken me
I stand here today because of you

Your aroha and manaakitanga
has enabled me to walk this journey
And I know it will continue to do so.
How blessed are we to have each other.
Here’s my heart Lord, send me.
(And to my late godmother, this one’s for you) 

Amine

By Hannah Rowan