A smile filled my insides as I saw a little boy with a backpack as large as he was standing on the street corner waiting for the Monday morning school bus to pick him up. His body language seemed to spark with that eager energy of heading to school on his own. The joy seemed to ripple off his little patient foot-shuffling. Every now and again, his glance confirmed that he knew that just across the street his parent was watching from the garage. It’s been a lot of years since Laura and I were watching our children venture off toward those first days of school. It’s been so many years of memories since then. We’ve watched not only our children growing up, but also each of those special exchange students who we were blessed to welcome into our family. The house is quieter this fall, having now entered into the realm of empty-nesters. We’re new at the journey, but have been blessed to watch many in our church family survive and even thrive before us in this transition. And like with each change on our life’s journey, in those moments when I may feel anxious, or excited, or nervous, I know that God is right there watching like that parent across the street… never far away, encouraging from a safe distance.
Life transitions and children’s faces seem like wonderful places to remember a core message of God: that we are beloved, each of us wondrous. The greatest gift that I’ve found in life are those connections with people along the journey. A moment with a shared smile, or a lifetime of shared love and commitment, each offer the blessing of God inviting us toward seeing the world differently. This fall I am once again involved in a musical, Roald Dahl’s Matilda, with our community theater group. I entered that process with a certain amount of trepidation with a cast of mostly unvaccinated children, singing and dancing our way through regular rehearsals. I’ve been grateful that initially most of our rehearsing has been outdoors in the park. I been still more grateful for the role that I was given as The Doctor. Each rehearsal I get to sing about how every child, every life, is miraculous – a wonder. Then as I watch the rest of the cast performing their song and dance my proclamation is overwhelmingly confirmed! It hasn’t felt the same to be on stage without my daughters or exchange-student daughters. But as the show is coming together, I’m beaming with a reflection of that same pride and love for each of the children present in the production… every child is awesomely and wondrously made (as Psalm 139 says). With the resumption of Sunday School, and the reemergence of a middle school youth group, that same emotion keeps welling up within me as I watch and pray for each person involved. Like so many people, I am aware of how parched my soul has been for the regathering of community. But even more poignantly, I’ve been longing for experiences of community working together to celebrate and care for one another – understanding that our stories are always interdependent.
Scripture speaks over and over again about that love for one another as intertwined with our love for God. As the Apostle Paul writes to churches struggling with division and all manner of difficulties he invariably turns back to the tool of love as being what will heal them and align them with God's ways. Judgement exists as a thread that runs through those texts as well, but so often the judgement is linked to placing ourselves ahead of the love of others, or the commitment to value every part of the community, every person, as miraculous, a wonder, a reflection of God. We are continuing as a nation, and as a world, in a time when it seems like there are lots of forces trying to produce division. In that chaos I keep praying that we can stop to see the child, see the faces, and take the next small step on the journey knowing that God is right there watching and inviting us to see a different way.
May God guide us in Love,
Pastor Eric