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Meet Clay and Sandy Glenn A strange question perhaps, but nevertheless: If St. Peter was the rock on which the church was built, who are the rocks of St. Peter’s? Obviously, they’re all of us. But every church, temple, organization has those few members who seem to be everywhere. People who, without their energy, talent and dedication, the group would be hard-pressed to function day-to-day. Clay and Sandy Glenn always seem to be everywhere—as much of St. Peter’s as the masonry and the wood beams. He has been senior warden, the fellowship chairman. He founded and runs the military outreach, which provides prayers and packages for the men and women in service. He has been an anchor for men’s groups. And many a session of the ethics and issues small group and Bible study classes have enjoyed his strong opinions and easy wit. She has been the chair of outreach. She schedules lay readers and Eucharistic ministers. She works in the church office. She has been active in the Order of St. Luke. And she forgets the rest of the details. “It’s always been as needed,” she says. Is that really a blush around her downcast eyes? They are, quite the couple. See, if you know one well and not the other, you’d be a little surprised at how different they are. Or how they have complemented each other for the past 28 years. Clay is a retired chief petty officer. The kind that runs the Navy, instilling respect, if not occasional terror, on young seamen and junior officers. Clay is big, brash and not shy about telling you what’s on his mind. He’s a little impulsive, very energetic and loyal to his friends. Sandy is quiet, highly intelligent and efficient, shy but not standoffish with a wickedly dry sense of humor, especially where her husband is concerned. She had an exemplary career with the IRS, quietly and steadily rising in rank and esteem. Getting Sandy to talk about herself is like proposing dental surgery. They were both born and reared in Kansas City, Kan. Although they lived no more than five miles apart, they didn’t meet until 1980. Her sister is married to his best friend. Clay knew the sister for ten years before he even met Sandy. “They (the sister and his friend) had decided that we wouldn’t get along,” says Clay. “Because she was so independent and stubborn.” Although the quip draws a barely audible response from Sandy, there’s actually some truth in that. They were married six months later. Clay actually proposed after only a few weeks. “I delayed him,” smiles Sandy. “I didn’t think you could know someone in that short a time. I guess it worked out. I think he needed someone who doesn’t talk a lot. Actually you don’t get much of an opportunity to talk when he’s around.” Clay Glenn III was born 45 days before his father had to ship out for what would be five years of sea duty. Rather than move to his homeport of Norfolk, Va., Sandy decided to stay with the baby in Kansas City where she could count on her job and the support of her family. Mother and son saw Clay only a few times a year during the tour. That independence and stubbornness was never more important. “I was working a lot, I had family and I was used to being alone,” recalls Sandy. “It was, still, not easy. Family get-togethers at Christmas and the like. It was like being divorced in a room full of married people.” And it was hard on Clay. “If something happened to me, she would have been taken care of,” he says with uncharacteristic softness. “It wasn’t easy. Not at all. You do what you have to do. Being apart from them. I had no choice but I felt the guilt. I still do.” The three were reunited by 1988 when they all went to a new assignment at Moffett Field, south of San Francisco. Sandy got a collateral transfer with the IRS. They moved back to Kansas City in the early ‘90s. Clay has worked for the Social Security Administration since 1996. Sandy is a cradle Episcopalian. Clay’s church experience was a little more varied and a little less enthusiastic until they were married. She is, not surprisingly, hesitant to talk about her faith. The steady, independent and dedicated persona perhaps lends itself to the Episcopal Church. A place where she can quietly and efficiently “fill the need.” “I just like to help,” she says. “There’s a need and someone responds. That’s all.” Clay, on the other hand, isn’t shy about talking about his faith. “I’m still trying to figure it out,” he said recently. “As one priest told me, it’s okay to have questions. To think. To wonder. Because we’re all in different places in out spiritual journeys. That’s why we’re a church. A family. I need (St. Peter’s). I’ve been a constant challenge for God for 60 years now. That’s because I’m a work in progress.” And all that work? Clay admits that he can be frustrated when he doesn’t see others leaping to help out on projects but he can understand the reasons why everyone can’t be the Glenns. Yet, he says, those who do not immerse themselves in the daily, sometimes dirty, jobs of keeping the parish family humming are missing out. “It’s that sense of ownership,” he said. “It’s duty. It’s part of fellowship.” So there you are. He: duty. She: need. A fine union on which to place a rock.
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