How do you wrap 10 years of a messy life tight into right angles
fold down the cardboard flaps and slide the tape up neat?
10 years of standing semi-circle around that altar beside Kathy Sicard, and Mary and Nick hands open to Jesus
10 years of holding out the cup of wine, a taste of salvation to Mark and Todd and Stacy
10 years of eyes focused straight, following the Celtic cross down that aisle, past the wise ones bowing
10 years of opening Word, wondering at the transformation of seeds thrown and rising into warm, yeasty Life,
10 years of candlelit anniversaries at Tellos and three blood-covered babies pushed out into the day rubbed clean by nurses who still know our names
10 years of summertime stroller walks down a windy pier, banging our palms on the red metal lighthouse,
10 years of full blueberry bags straight from the farmer’s market, a puddle of navy blue warming beside me in the sand,
10 years of table feasts and soup ladled, and brown sugar sprinkled on oatmeal in the early morning,
10 years of real, struggling, luminous lives that slid into our hearts leaving a residue of light.
How do you wrap 10 years of light right tight, close the lid and not expect it to weep out the sides?
Tomorrow we attempt to do the impossible, to say goodbye to a congregation we have loved and where we have grown up and a town we know every nook and cranny of. Pray for our stamina and the ability to stay present, real, and open to His gifts always being given.
Blessings on your Sabbath,