We
have been away from the village for two weeks. It began in glorious
celebration – both Micaela and I began the trip quite sick and
there were some bumps along the planning and execution of every
little detail. However, through all the fragility and humanity I was
ordained to word and sacrament ministry, a holy miracle to be sure!
The first thought I had when the bishop spoke the words were, “You
can't take it back!” – its full on forward march into more
frailty of life and more humanity (mine and others) than I will have
patience for. Perhaps the foibles of the ordination service were the
foretaste of all that is to come?
After
dodging an April blizzard we kept on moving out the east coast for a
family wedding. I am not sure there could be anything more contrary
to village life than the east coast. Everywhere you look there is
concrete and traffic jams, phones in hands, gadgets on belts or
devices stuck in ears. Also, I am convinced the east coast uses three
times the plastic bottles of any other region of the country –
seriously, they are everywhere! I swallowed my culture shock and
spent the weekend with my incredible, gracious and generous family.
We celebrated a wedding, saw some monuments and delighted in the
cherry blossoms (I'll leave the fun of downtown DC traffic out of the
moment)!
The
trip ended with Micaela having another major dental procedure – the
girl has had a rough year in that department. We spent two days
dealing with that and hearing the news of the Boston bombing. A hit
so close to “home” sends me reeling with a hunger to know what is
happening everywhere. I scoured my favorite global news sources
knowing that prayers for peace and healing are needed for the people
of Boston, Saudi Arabia and every other place on the globe that has a
word for “bomb”. I heard the gospel tonight as a young girl said
tonight at village youth group, “if we do revenge and hit back then
the circle keeps going and we'll never know peace”. The wars that
rage in countries, in homes, in shelters, in churches – at the
Boston marathon...these are true pictures of the frailty of human
life and they make me ever more sure of my call, the call to be light
and love and a screamer of justice in our oppressive world.
I
feel such peace after returning to our little mountain village. Not a
peace that settles into complacency, but a peace of knowing that I am
in a community that struggles side-by-side with understanding, a
place that centers on the mystery of prayer and silence – not too
many words and busy-ness and over opinionated everything. I feel
peace knowing that my daughter can decompress after the over
stimulation of the world and have a conversation with her pastor and
peers about what she saw on the TV these last days. The village isn't
mean for hiding...its a community that pushes me further into the
light and teaches me how to raise my voice for justice and peace and
love. That is my call, and it has something to do with ordained
ministry...but so much more it has to do with being a daughter of
God.
“When
despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the
least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may
be,...I come into the peace of wild things.
I
come into the presence of still water.
And
I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light.
For
a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.” Wendell
Berry
