Debbie Orben
From Spiritual Autobiography
Trying to reflect on my spiritual journey after seventy- one years is daunting, twists and turns in all directions, and the past so faded in my memory that it is hard to know what really is important. This I do know. I cannot separate myself into spiritual and non-spiritual. I am what I am, body and soul, matter and energy. I also know that my life has been shaped by all I encountered, especially my family, friends, colleagues and the natural world. I’ve also been influenced by the experiences I’ve had, the places I’ve visited, the books, poems, movies, and music along the way. For all I am grateful.
My given name is Debra Jean Freeh. I am the oldest of four children. As a child, I was quiet and shy around strangers but perfectly at home, loved and cared for, playing and fighting with my siblings and cousins.
It was in college that I transformed from a “Good Girl” who always goes to Mass to a student who would rather read or study. I wasn’t a party girl. I didn’t like to drink and I was allergic to cigarette smoke so my experiments with marijuana were not that enticing. Still, it was the sixties, and I became part of the “hippie generation.” My boyfriend Jim and I joined in the peace protests against the Vietnam War. I remember knocking on doors in East Stroudsburg with petitions to end the war. A common response of that time was “Our country, love it or leave it.” Being an advocate for peace became part of my spiritual journey.
Also, during college, I learned about aging, indifference, and compassion by working in nursing homes during the summers. I noticed how some of the workers were kind and respectful while others were rude and callous. I wondered how the elderly felt spending their final days in a small room dependent on the kindness of strangers. I hoped that they weren’t lonely or depressed. It worried me a lot then and still does today. I was young and carefree, capable and strong, but so many were not. I did not have the courage to become a nurse, to nurture the sick and needy. I decided to be a teacher instead and be surrounded by the laughter and joy of young children. Now that I am one of the aging, the needs and trials of the elderly concern me more directly. But I see aging in more nuanced ways, as old age also brings insights and grace and, if most fortunate, glimmers of wisdom from time to time.
During my junior year in college, two friends had illegal abortions without telling their parents. The abortions were done by a doctor “on the side.” One friend had serious complications, was hospitalized, and missed a semester of college. Another acquaintance became pregnant and quit school altogether. I remember thinking how unfair it was for her boyfriend to continue his education when she had to leave to care for their child. These events made me realize how important health care and birth control are for women. I will never be “for abortions” but will always be for the right to choose. We never know what circumstances others have lived through and what difficulties they are trying to overcome. I know that for children to grow up healthy they need love and care as much as they need good food, healthcare, and a quality education.
My life-long environmental concerns began in college too. I joined the Biology Club and we helped organize celebrations for the first ever Earth Day on April 22, 1970. I took a course in human ecology that changed my life forever. We read The Population Bomb by Paul Ehrlich and considered the limits of planet earth. My grandmother married at a later age because she didn’t want to have too many children but being a good Catholic, she went on to have eleven children anyway. My parents only had four children but still we were a houseful. I loved being part of a large family but realized that large families were not healthy for life on earth. I married young, age 22 and right out of college, but used birth control and taught for eight years before having a child. At age 29, I desperately wanted a baby but decided to limit my family to one child. It was probably a selfish choice, but Jim was supportive. At home I wanted to focus on caring for one child. That human ecology course changed my life and influenced my daughter Rachael’s life too. She grew up a strong and independent woman, a braver and better environmentalist than me.
After college, I began teaching second grade at Springfield Elementary School. I taught there for thirty- six years. Throughout those years I encountered many wonderful teachers and students. My first and lasting mentors were Kay Winters, Shirley Khabbaz, and Tat Moyer. I inherited Kay Winters’ classroom after she became a reading specialist. It was a marvel of creativity, lots of student- made books, artwork, collages, and poetry. I learned so much just by being in that space. Kay retired from teaching early and went on to become a successful writer of children’s books.
Another mentor from Springfield was Tat Moyer. Tat taught kindergarten and guided me when I taught half-day kindergarten one year so that I could spend more time with my two-year-old daughter Rachael. Tat was also a Quaker and lived nearby. During a dance residency I accompanied Tat and our principal, to a modern dance convention. I worked with Tat to bring dance and movement into the classrooms. Tat loved all forms of dance and was our guide to New York City when my family and I went to see the Rockettes and The Nutcracker. We took courses together and went walking, biking, and snowshoeing. Tat taught me how to make costumes out of paper-bags and create clay pinch pots and dried flower arrangements, and how to concoct snacks with my students.
Our daughter Rachael was the first grandchild for both sets of grandparents. To say she was loved and cherished is an understatement. Having a baby was wonderful but it also presented us with a new dilemma. Should we raise our daughter Catholic like her mother or Moravian like her father? For a time, we avoided the question altogether, but when Rachael was two years old, I started looking for a spiritual home, a place where she would be welcomed and cared for. I realized that it takes a village to raise a child, and I needed to find one that our family could trust and believe in. Fortunately, it was then we encountered Quakers from Lehigh Valley Monthly Meeting. They were involved in the nuclear freeze movement. We joined their efforts, became friends, and were led to attend Meetings for Worship. It was the Quaker way of seeking that of God in all people and the willingness of Quakers to work for peace and social justice and the people we met at Meeting who kept us coming. We raised our daughter as a Quaker and became active members of the community. Jim and I served on many committees and joined the Quakers in both potluck picnics and Peace Pilgrimages. I learned so much from my Quaker friends and the gifts they shared with our whole community.
Margaret Cantenni was an artist who taught us about beauty, harmony, and being fully present with one another. Barry and Louise Young taught us about the Bible and Jesus and shared their messages of peace, compassion, and love for all. Kurt and Marylou Mulhaussen taught us about nature, curiosity, and respect for diversity. Chris and Howard Gallup taught us about music, adventures, bicycling, and hospitality. Dee Kruschwitz and Annette Bernert taught us about books and gardening, the power of words and the natural world. This is just a beginning list of friends who have touched my life and helped me to grow. I’ve listed some of their specific gifts, but I must say that all my Quaker friends have been role models and people who helped me on my path to being a better person.
We attended LVMM for over twenty years before I felt committed enough to join the meeting. I didn’t want to be limited by a label and it took me a long time to realize that being a Quaker would not define me in a narrow way. I could still explore spirituality from different perspectives: Catholic, Buddhist, Native American, all paths would remain open. I admired the Quaker testimonies of simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, and stewardship but didn’t think I was simple or peaceful enough to really be a Quaker. Finally, I came to realize that even though I would never be perfect, I could be a Quaker. Joining LVMM was not the end of my spiritual journey, but it was a new beginning.