Streams of Mercy

This has been a pensive week for me – perhaps starting with Sunday’s call to worship: “For everything there is a season”; maybe the memory of holiday week-ends with family gathered to celebrate the end of summer; maybe the coming anniversary of 9-11, the anniversary of my mother’s death, as well as so many others that beautiful September morning; maybe the weariness that comes from navigating the negativity all around, and seeking a sense of calm in the midst of chaos; maybe the passing of a dear friend after many years with Alzheimers, and the death of yet another dear friend in her 90’s, a professor at St. Andrews Presbyterian College (now St. Andrew’s University) since its very beginning. – how quickly those folks are leaving, and what rich treasures they leave us, for having known them.

I re-read a favorite book, Resilience, by Elizabeth Edwards, and remembered this special quote: “I can only be what I am capable of being … when my children tell their own children about their grandmother, I pray they will be able to say that she stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way – and it surely has not – she adjusted her sails in a new direction, and sailed on.” So much of life is adjusting the sails in a storm, and sailing on; keeping an eye on one’s goal, and re-adjusting the sails from time to time to keep on track. I remember the friend who taught me that out on Lake Chautauqua – this week is the anniversary of dear Capt’n John’s passing as well.

Saw Jane Fonda on the morning news, reflecting on her life and introducing her new book What Can I Do? (That’s a good question for any kind of week!) Through the years I’ve been inspired by her activism, and today she spoke of her passion for climate change concerns. “Whoever is elected in November, we must get them moving to address climate change concerns,” she said. Fonda was asked what she would like to say to her “younger self” at 30? She said, “Ah, at 30 she wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say.” Then she added: “Take care, keeping searching, don’t give up…make a difference…”

What would we say to our younger selves if we had a chance to help them by sharing what we’ve learned on life’s journey? A perfect question for a pensive week. In going through yet one more drawer, I came across one a quote scribbled on a scrap of paper - “I’m sure that yesterday’s disaster is our teacher today. Let us linger near until we can stop hurting enough to listen.” More food for thought.

This week I’ve been working on the church newsletter, gathering pictures of all “our children” and holding up the hope and promise we have in them. A few Sundays ago, one of our young families came for 9 am worship in our parking lot, after months away. In reflecting on having them back, I wrote: Seeing the girls back among us last week was a great encouragement to me. One of the things I struggle with these day, as I learn things I never knew before (about myself and this nation) is that I doubt that at his stage of my life, I’ll have much time to be a part of setting things right! We’re leaving our children and youth quite a task, but I’m filled with hope when I think of each of them.”

So much for a pensive week. It’s good to reflect on where we’ve been, where we are, and where we hope to go. “For all that has been, thanks! For all that is to come, Yes.” (Dag Hammarskjold)

Giving thanks for every season of life, and for those streams of mercy, never ceasing – carrying us through this life into all that is yet to be.

Elizabeth