By ANNIE TURNER
A sermon delivered at Haydenville Congregational Church, September 13, 2020

WE ARE GOING TO START OUT ON A LOW NOTE, BUT I PROMISE YOU—WITH ALL MY HEART AND SOUL THAT WE WILL END ON A HIGH NOTE.

I WANT TO SHARE ONE OF MY FAVORITE POEMS BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO START MY SERMON, WHERE WE LOOK AT THE TRULY HORRIFYING THINGS HAPPENING IN OUR COUNTRY AND WORLD TODAY. REMEMBER THE FAMOUS POEM BY YEATS, “THE SECOND COMING”?

TURNING AND TURNING IN THE WIDENING GYRE
THE FALCON CANNOT HEAR THE FALCONER;
THINGS FALL APART; THE CENTRE CANNOT HOLD;
MERE ANARCHY IS LOOSED UPON THE WORLD,
THE BLOOD-DIMMED TIDE IS LOOSED, AND EVERYWHERE THE CEREMONY OF INNOCENCE IS DROWNED;

THE BEST LACK ALL CONVICTION, WHILE THE WORST ARE FULL OF PASSIONATE INTENSITY.

SURELY SOME REVELATION IS AT HAND;
SURELY THE SECOND COMING IS AT HAND.
THE SECOND COMING! HARDLY ARE THOSE WORDS OUT WHEN A VAST IMAGE OUT OF “SPIRITUS MUNDI”
TROUBLES MY SIGHT; SOMEWHERE IN SANDS OF THE DESERT

A SHAPE WITH LION BODY AND THE HEAD OF A MAN, A GAZE BLANK AND PITILESS AS THE SUN,
IS MOVING ITS SLOW THIGHS, WHILE ALL ABOUT IT REEL SHADOWS OF THE INDIGNANT DESERT BIRDS. THE DARKNESS DROPS AGAIN; BUT NOW I KNOW THAT TWENTY CENTURIES OF STONY SLEEP

WERE VEXED TO NIGHTMARE BY A ROCKING CRADLE,
AND WHAT ROUGH BEAST, ITS HOUR COME ROUND AT LAST, SLOUCHES TOWARDS BETHLEHEM TO BE BORN?”

THIS COMES TO MIND AS WE SLOUCH THROUGH THESE LAST MONTHS BEFORE THE ELECTION. YEATS PRESCIENT WORDS SO DESCRIBE THE TIMES WE LIVE IN: “THE BLOOD- DIMMED TIDE IS LOOSED…” “THINGS FALL APART, THE CENTRE CANNOT HOLD…” I TELL YOU I AM WORRIED ABOUT OUR FUTURE. VERY WORRIED AS IN KNOTTED STOMACH, FIDGETY HANDS, SLEEPLESSNESS, FORGETFULNESS, ANXIETY, AND A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF CRABBINESS TOWARDS MY BELOVED SPOUSE. AND SOMETIMES MY DOG. JUST SO YA KNOW, YELLING AT A DOG DOES NOT WORK WITH A JACK RUSSELL TERRIER. TREATS DO, THOUGH.

BUT WHILE BEING VERY AWARE OF THE DARK CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON, I ALSO WANT TO TALK ABOUT SOME OF THE THINGS I HAVE NOTICED BEING BORN IN ME DURING THE PANDEMIC AND THE QUARANTINE: SOME ARE FAIRLY NIFTY; SOME, NOT SO MUCH, BUT THEN, I AM A HUMAN BEING JUST LIKE YOU WITH ALL THE GOOD AND SHINY PARTS ON DISPLAY, AND ALL THE AWFUL, GRUNGY BITS HIDDEN FROM VIEW. ESPECIALLY NOW IN THESE DIFFICULT AND

SCARY TIMES, WE NEED TO BRING TO MIND, TO BE AWARE OF THE GIFTS IN OUR LIVES, OF THE SHINING PARTS OF THESE LAST MONTHS:

1/ I AM CONTEMPLATING MY END IN A WAY I HAVE NOT BEFORE, EVEN THOUGH I HAD GONE THROUGH 2 SURGERIES, MONTHS OF CHEMO, AND AM NOT QUITE YET AT THE MAGICAL 5-YEAR OUT MARK. WOULD IT SURPRISE YOU TO KNOW THAT I DIDN’T REALLY, I MEAN REALLY, CONTEMPLATE MY END UNTIL I WAS 73? IT IS SURPRISING HOW THE HUMAN MIND AND SOUL CAN PUT OFF KNOWLEDGE OF WHAT’S TO COME. A FEW YEARS AGO, A SMALL NUMBER OF US GOT TOGETHER TO TALK ABOUT SUCH THINGS; TO HOLD OUR MORTALITY IN OUR HANDS, TO CONTEMPLATE OUR END, TO THINK ABOUT THE LAST DETAILS OF OUR LIVES.

IF YOU ARE CONTEMPLATING YOUR END—AS I HAVE BEEN ALMOST DAILY—IT IS A GOOD THING, A FINE THING, A BEAUTEOUS THING TO SEE OURSELVES CUPPED IN GOD’S WIDE, WARM HANDS. TO KNOW THAT THIS IS NOT ALL THERE IS. TO KNOW THAT—NO MATTER HOW HARD OUR LIVES ARE, HOW WORRIED WE ARE ABOUT WHAT IS HAPPENING TO OUR COUNTRY AND OUR WORLD, NOT TO MENTION WHALES, DOLPHINS, ALBATROSSES, WARBLERS, RED MAPLES THE WEST COAST, AND MORE—WE ARE ALWAYS HELD IN GOD’S BOUNDLESS COMPASSION WHETHER WE KNOW IT OR NOT.

AM I AFRAID OF DYING? I DON’T THINK SO, ALTHOUGH AS RICK AND I DISCUSS THIS, WE ARE QUICK TO SAY, “BUT NOT YET, LORD, NOT YET.” ONE THING TO MEDITATE ON DURING THIS TIME OF QUARANTINE AND LACK OF SOCIAL CONTACT, IS TO IMAGINE YOURSELF GOING HOME TO GOD. WILL IT BE LIKE “THE SIMPSONS” WHERE THE PROTESTANTS ARE PLAYING GOLF IN BLUE KNITTED VESTS, CALLING EACH OTHER “BUFFY”, SPEAKING IN HIGH-TONE VOWELS, AND BEING TERRIBLY STUFFY AND RIGID? OR WILL OUR END BY LIKE THE HEAVENLY TABLE WHERE

THE CATHOLICS ARE GATHERED WITH WINE, GOODIES, AND DANCING BESIDE IT? THIS WOULD BE LIKE GARRISON KEILLOR WISHING HE WERE ITALIAN, THAT HE COULD OPEN A CLOSET TO GREAT FOOD AND WINE, AND HIS FAMILY WOULD BE CALLED, “THE KEILLORINIS.”

I THINK KEEPING THE IMAGE OF A CELEBRATION IN MIND IS A GOOD WAY TO GO. MAYBE SOMEONE WILL BLOW A ZUZUVELLA WHEN WE ARRIVE IN HEAVEN, ASSUMING WE ARE GOING TO THAT PLACE AND NOT THE OTHER PLACE. IF YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE IN PURGATORY THAT IS CERTAINLY YOUR RIGHT, ALTHOUGH AS A WONDERFUL WOMAN SAID WHEN I WAS GOING THROUGH THE RIGHT OF CHRISTIAN INITIATION 19 YEARS AGO—“IF YOU ARE SAVED, YOU ARE SAVED. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT.” I LIKE HER ATTITUDE.

2/ I AM LOOKING AT THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN HOPE AND OPTIMISM.
OPTIMISM IS THE CHEERY WORLD-VIEW THAT THINGS WILL WORK OUT IN THE END. ONE

BUDDHIST TEACHER WROTE, “ALL WILL BE OK IN THE END, AND IF IT ISN’T, IT’S NOT THE END.” HOPE IS THE BELIEF THAT NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, ALL WILL BE WELL IN THE END, WHICH I BELIEVE WILL BE THE CLOSING OF OUR EARTHLY LIVES. BECAUSE IT IS GOD’S WORLD NOT OURS. THIS IS A GOOD TIME TO RE-READ JULIAN OF NORWICH, THE ANCHORESS WHO LIVED IN A TINY STONE HUT ATTACHED TO THE CATHEDRAL AT NORWICH, ENGLAND DURING THE 13TH- 14TH CENTURIES. SHE WROTE, ALL SHALL BE WELL, ALL SHALL BE WELL, AND ALL MANNER OF THINGS SHALL BE WELL.

LEST YOU THINK SHE WAS CRAZILY OPTIMISTIC, JULIAN LIVED IN A TIME OF THE BLACK PLAGUE, HUNGER, WAR, DEPREDATIONS, AND SO MUCH MORE. MY TAKE ON THIS IS—ALL SHALL BE WELL WHEN WE BEHOLD GOD’S LOVING GLANCE AT THE END OF OUR MORTAL LIFE. A WONDERFUL CATHOLIC THEOLOGIAN AND WRITER, JAMES FINLEY, WHO ALSO IS PART OF FR.

ROHR’S SCHOOL OF ACTION AND CONTEMPLATION OUT IN ALBUQURQUE, NEW MEXICO, ONCE SPOKE OF WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE WHEN GOD BEHOLDS OUR FACE AT LAST. THAT IT WILL BE LIKE A MOTHER OPENING A CHRISTMAS PRESENT AND LOVING WHAT SHE IS SEEING WITHIN, BECAUSE GOD WILL SO LOVE US, SO LOVE OUR FACES AND ADORE HAVING US SIT AT THE TABLE WITH HER. IF ANNIE LAMOTT IS RIGHT, A GOOD LIFE WELL-LIVED MEANS WE GET TO SIT AT THE BEER AND SHRIMP TABLE IN HEAVEN, INSTEAD OF THE CHEEZ-WHIZ AND STALE CRACKERS TABLE.

3/ I AM DISCOVERING A NEW-FOUND PATIENCE WITHIN:
WHEN THINGS DON’T GO THE WAY I WANT—AND THAT IS SO OFTEN THE CASE NOW

(“WHERE IS MY DARN CAN OF FIRE-ROASTED TOMATOES? WHY ARE WE OUT OF LINGUINI? THE SPINACH HAS WILTED, RICK, ARGH!” AS IF IT IS HIS FAULT.), I FIND A NEW WELL OF PATIENCE WHEN I CONTEMPLATE THE HORRIFYING NUMBERS OF DEAD, JUST IN OUR COUNTRY ALONE, FROM COVID-19: PROBABLY ABOUT 200,000 BY NOW. WHAT IS A CAN OF TOMATOES COMPARED TO SUCH SUFFERING AND LOSS? WHAT IS MY MOMENTARY FRUSTRATION IN THE LIGHT OF THIS NATION AND WORLD OF MOURNING? PATIENCE IS A GIFT IN THESE HARD TIMES FOR ME.

4/ I AM BECOMING EVEN MORE AWARE OF THE SUFFERING AND NEED FOR JUSTICE IN THE BLACK, BROWN, AND LATINX COMMUNITIES.

I THOUGHT I WAS FAIRLY “WOKE” BEFORE, BUT I NOW KNOW—THANK YOU GOD, FOR KEEPING ME HUMBLE—THAT I HAD HARDLY A CLUE. EVEN NOW, AS A WHITE WOMAN OF PRIVILEGE, I CAN ONLY SENSE THE EDGES OF WHAT LIFE IS LIKE FOR THESE COMMUNITIES. TERRIFYING. TERRIFYING IF YOU ARE A BLACK WOMAN AND YOUR BLACK SON WONDERS WHY

YOU DO NOT WANT HIM TO GET HIS LICENSE BECAUSE YOU ARE SO FEARFUL, WITH REASON, THAT YOU WILL BE PULLED OVER “DRIVING WHILE BLACK.” AND MORE.

BUT I WANT TO ADD SOMETHING TO THIS DEEP AND FRIGHTENING WOUND: I RECENTLY SAW ON FB A VIDEO CLIP OF AN INDIAN CIVIL-RIGHTS ACTIVIST, VALERIE KAUR, ADDRESSING THE METROPOLITAN AFRICAN-AMERICAN EPISCOPAL CHURCH IN 2016. IN THIS ADDRESS, WHICH I POSTED ON MY FB PAGE YESTERDAY, SHE SAYS,

“WHAT IF THIS DARKNESS IS NOT THE DARKNESS OF THE TOMB BUT OF THE WOMB?” WHAT IF SOMETHING NEW IS WAITING TO BE BORN, AND AS WOMEN KNOW GIVING BIRTH, FIRST WE BREATHE, THEN WE PUSH!

5/ ANOTHER GIFT OF THIS TIME IS MY WATCHING BIRDS:
I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED BIRDS, AND MY DEAR PARENTS PASSED THIS ON TO ME. WHEN MY

SOUL IS TROUBLED AND DOWN-PRESSER FROM THE PANDEMIC, I MAKE A CUP OF STRONG EARL GREY BERGAMOT TEA (2 TEA BAGS, 1 TSP. SUGAR, BIG DOLLOP OF MILK), SIT ON THE COUCH, AND WATCH THE BIRDS THROUGH THE WINDOW. THERE GOES THE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER! AND THE ADOLESCENT FROM THIS YEAR’S BROOD. HOW NAKED HIS HEAD LOOKS. THERE GOES A FLOCK OF GOLDFINCHES, SWOOPING UP TO THE DECK, THEIR HIGH CALLS TUMBLING OUT OF THEIR LOOPING FLIGHT. HERE’S THE UPSIDE-DOWN BIRD, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE NUTHATCH, MAKING THAT FUNNY TRUMPET-CALL OF HERS. HUMMINGBIRDS ZIP BACK AND FORTH TO OUR FEEDER, ALL FEMALES NOW AS THE MALES LEAVE EARLY ON THEIR MIGRATION. I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE HOW AGGRESSIVE THEY ARE, CHASING EACH OTHER AWAY, SOMETIMES EVEN BUMPING CHESTS. “GIRLS, GIRLS!” I WANT TO SAY, “BEHAVE YOURSELF, THERE’S ENOUGH FOR ALL.” WATCHING BIRDS IS A GOOD WAY TO

FEED YOUR SOUL, TO REMIND YOURSELF OF THE UTTER LOVELINESS OF CREATION. AND THAT BRINGS ME TO:

6/ WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO HAVE ENOUGH IN HARD TIMES?

CLEARLY, I AM A WHITE WOMAN OF PRIVILEGE, BORN AT THE END OF 1945, LIVING IN A LOVELY HOUSE ON A HILL SURROUNDED BY WOODS AND LIVING WITH A MAN WHOM I HAVE ADORED FOR OVER 53 YEARS. BUT IF I AM HONEST, A GOOD DEAL OF THE TIME I THINK I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH! WHAT ARE THE DEALS ON AMAZON TODAY? HAH! A CORDLESS PHONE CHARGER! WHAT NEW PAIR OF JEANS WHICH I DO NOT NEED SHOULD I ORDER FROM STITCHFIX? (I HAVE FAR TOO MANY ALREADY IN MY CLOSET. SIGH) LET’S DO AN INSTACART ORDER! AND TRUTH IS, I ALWAYS, ALWAYS OVERSHOP SO THAT AT ONE POINT I SERIOUSLY SUGGESTED TO MY HONEY, “I THINK WE NEED ANOTHER REFRIDGERATOR.” REALLY? ANOTHER ONE? WHEN PEOPLE ARE GOING DUMPSTER-DIVING JUST TO KEEP BODY AND SOUL TOGETHER? WHY IS MY SOUL SO CRUMPLED AT TIMES?

I HAVE BEEN CHALLENGED TO FIND WAYS OF FILLING MYSELF UP—NOT WITH THINGS, CHOTCHKES, OR FOOD—BUT WITH SOUL FOOD, SONG, POETRY AND THE NARRATIVES OF THOSE WHO ARE OPPRESSED AND MARGINALIZED. I KNOW MANY OF US LOVE MARY OLIVER’S POEMS, AND SHE IS A GOOD PLACE TO START TO REPLENISH YOUR SOUL WITH SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL. I ALSO AM A HUGE FAN OF RICHARD WILBUR, ELIZABETH BISHOP, GALLWAY KINNELL, RUMI, YEATS, WILLIAM BLAKE, PEDRO NERUDA, AND SO MANY OTHER FINE VOICES. PUT SOME BEAUTY INTO YOUR SOUL, AND IT WILL SERVE YOU WELL. IT GIVES YOU GROUND TO STAND ON WHEN THE WINDS OF HARDSHIP BUFFET YOU.

LISTENING TO MUSIC ALSO HELPS ME TO FEEL I HAVE ENOUGH. I USED TO LISTEN TO IT ALL THE TIME, BUT IN RECENT YEARS NOT AS MUCH, AND I DO NOT KNOW WHY. BUT WHEN I AM PREPPING SUPPER IN MY PJS (HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY NEW PAGE, “COOKING IN PJS”? AND IF NOT, WHY NOT?) I SAY, “ALEXA, PLAY ME A BACH CELLO SUITE.” OR I WILL ASK FOR A DIFFERENT TUNE FOR A DIFFERENT MOOD. YEARS BACK WHEN I WAS ON THE CHILDREN’S BOOK CIRCUIT, TALKING TO CLASSROOMS AND CONFERENCES, I READ A MARVELOUS PIECE ABOUT WHAT MUSIC DOES TO OUR BRAIN. THERE IS SOMETHING ABOUT THE SEQUENCE OF NOTES WHICH IS LIKE A STORY NARRATIVE, AND THIS NARRATIVE PULLS US TOGETHER, KNITS UP THE THREADY PIECES OF OUR SOULS. IT ACTS ON US NEUROLOGICALLY. IT CALMS US. HERE IS ANOTHER GIFT I HAVE DISCOVERED DURING THIS TIME OF PANDEMIC:

7/ I AM BEING FLOODED DAILY BY MEMORIES.
DURING THIS TIME OF LOCKDOWN AND SOCIAL DISTANCING, I HAVE BEEN SURPRISED TO

SEE HOW MANY MEMORIES OF MY PAST FLOAT INTO MY MIND AT DIFFERENT TIMES OF THE DAY. IS THIS TRUE FOR YOU AS WELL? SOME ARE WONDERFUL, SOME NOT SO MUCH, JUST LIKE LIFE.
–LEARNING TO RIDE A BIKE OPPOSITE OUR FAMILY HOUSE ON ROUND HILL ROAD IN NORTHAMPTON. I REMEMBER SWEEPING ACROSS THE ROAD—THAT WAS IN THE DAY OF NO HELICOPTER PARENTING—RIDING AROUND OUR NEIGHBOR’S BIG DRIVEWAY, THEN BACK AGAIN. THE UTTER JOY AND SENSE OF MASTERY HAVE NEVER LEFT ME. MAYBE TOU HAVE A MEMORY OR TWO WHICH REMINDS YOU OF MASTERY.

–THE SAD TIME OUR YOUNG NEIGHBOR IN WILLIAMSBURG VISITED OUR HOUSE, PICKED UP A RECENTLY-BORN BABY KITTEN, AND DROPPED IT ON THE PORCH FLOOR IN SURPRISE. MY POOR

DAD HAD TO KILL IT WITH A SHOVEL. THAT IS SOMETHING YOU NEVER FORGET, AND IT ENTERED MY SOUL—THE UTTER PRECIOUSNESS OF CREATURE-LIFE, THAT WE HUMANS MUST BE SO CAREFUL. I BET YOU CAN BRING TO MIND AN EVENT OR A TIME WHEN YOU SUDDENLY SAW THE PRECIOUSNESS OF ALL LIFE, INCLUDING EARTH WORMS.
–THE FIRST TIME I REALLY DISCOVERED THE BLESSING OF FOOD, WHEN MY THEN FRESHMAN AT BATES’ DATE, A RUSSIAN JEWISH MAN, TOOK ME OUT TO EAT AT A LOCAL RESTAURANT WITH HIS FAMILY. I HAD COQUILLE ST. JACQUES. SAY THAT SEVERAL TIMES, AND YOU MIGHT— JUST MIGHT—GET A SENSE OF THE UTTER FABULOUSNESS OF THIS MEAL. I REMEMBER LOOKING AT MY DISH AND THINKING, “THIS IS WHAT ALL THE FUSS IS ABOUT? I GET IT, I GET IT NOW!” DO YOU REMEMBER A MEAL YOU SHARED WITH SOMEONE IN YOUR LIFE WHICH SEEMED TO GO DEEP INTO YOUR BODY, INTO YOUR SOUL, IT WAS SO DELICIOUS??
–GOING UP THE GANGPLANK TO THE SECOND TINIEST PASSENGER SHIP ON THE ATLANTIC, THE AURELIA, IN 1965, WHEN I SET OFF FOR MY JUNIOR YEAR ABROAD IN ELNGLAND. WHAT AN ADVENTURE. I THOUGHT I WAS SO GROWN-UP, SO WITH-IT. AND, OF COURSE, WE HAD WINE WITH MEALS, ‘CAUSE IT WAS AN ITALIAN SHIP. I CAN STILL SMELL THE SCENT OF COAL FIRES BURNING IN THE AIR WHEN I FINALLY REACHED ENGLAND. SMELL IS IN OUR BONES, AND I BET YOU CAN SCENT AGAIN A SPECIAL SMELL FROM YOUR LIFE OR SOMEONE YOU LOVED, LIKE THE SMELL OF YOUR GRANDMOTHER’S APRON, CRISP, SMELLING OF SUNSHINE AND AIR. –REMEMBERING PRAYING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN OXFORD, ENGLAND, AND FEELING A BLAST OF BRIGHT LIGHT CRASHING THROUGH THE BRICK WALL OF THE HOUSE, STRIKING MY HEART SO I FELL TO MY KNEES. FOR A WEEK AFTERWARDS, THE TIPS OF MY FINGERS SEEMED TO GLOW WITH AN INNER LIGHT. GOD SURELY PICKED ME UP LIKE A KITTEN, SHOOK ME HEARTILY,

AND SAID, “NOW YOU BELONG TO ME, HONEY.” MAYBE YOU HAVE HAD A TIME OR TIMES IN YOUR LIFE WHEN GOD PICKED YOU UP AND SHOOK YOU TOO.
–GETTING MARRIED UNDER THE BUTTERNUT TREE AT THE FINE AGE OF 21 ON A 95 DEGREE DAY. I COULD NOT GET RICK’S WEDDING RING OVER HIS SWOLLEN, SWEATY KNUCKLE. OUR HAND-WRITTEN SERVICE HAD SUBSTANTIAL AMOUNTS OF DOWNLOADS FROM HERMAN MELVILLE’S “MOBY DICK,” OUR FAVORITE NOVEL OF THE TIME. SUCH JOY, TO LINK MY LIFE TO THE PERSON I LOVED. DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR HEART TIMES YOU JOINED YOUR LIFE TO SOMEONE YOU LOVED AND LIFE WAS NEVER THE SAME AFTERWARDS?

–GIVING BIRTH MANY YEARS LATER AT COOLEY DICK–THE FEELING OF THOSE IMMESELY STRONG, AND PAINFUL, CONTRACTIONS, READYING MY BODY FOR BIRTH. IT GAVE ME SUCH RESPECT FOR MY BODY, FOR ALL BODIES; THE INNER WISDOM, THE FACT THAT I WAS NOT IN CONTROL, THAT THINGS WOULD HAPPEN WHEN THEY WERE READY, NOT WHEN I WAS READY. AN IMPORTANT LESSON TO TAKE INTO MY SOUL. IT IS SO HUMBLING TO SEE WE ARE NOT IN CONTROL, AND I BET YOU HAVE HAD TIMES LIKE THIS AS WELL.

–AND THEN, WHEN MY MOTHER WAS NEAR DEATH FROM CANCER AT THE AGE OF 55, GOING WITH HER AS THEY PUT HER ON A GUERNEY TO TAKE HER TO A HOSPITAL ROOM, AND SHE TOLD ME, “ANNIE, I’M COLD.” I TOOK OFF MY SHEEPSKIN COAT, SPREAD IT OVER HER, AND PATTED HER HAND. SHE TOLD ME, “ANNIE, TAKE CARE OF DADDY.” WHICH WE DID. THE LESSONS OF BIRTH AND DEATH ARE INEVITABLE, STRONG AS DEATH, FORCEFUL AS BIRTH, AND THEY SINK INTO OUR BONES UNTIL THEY BECOME PART OF US. AND YOU.

THESE ARE A FEW OF THE THINGS BEING BORN IN ME DURING THIS PANDEMIC. THIS HARD TIME. THIS WONDERFUL TIME. THIS SERIOUS TIME. LIKE LIFE. WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS, MY FRIENDS. WE WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN, OUR WORLD AND COUNTRY WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. IF WE ARE SOME OF THE LUCKY ONES, OUR SOULS WILL BE STRONGER, MORE FLEXIBLE, AND MORE LOVING.

I THINK OF IT AS AKIN TO SURVIVING CANCER: NO QUESTION IT WAS AWFUL. NO QUESTION. BUT AM I MORE PATIENT NOW? YES. AM I MORE COMPASSIONATE NOW? OF COURSE, BECAUSE I KNOW MORE WHAT OTHERS ARE GOING THROUGH. AM I MORE WILLING TO PUT MY JUDGMENTS ASIDE? YES, BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW.

BUT, COME ON. LET’S LOOK AT THE FESTIVE TABLE IN HEAVEN, SPREAD WITH WINE, FRESH SPAGHETTI SAUCE WITH BURRATA, FRIENDS NEARBY, MUSIC PUMPING IN THE BACKGROUND, AND KNOW THAT GOD IS SAYING JUST SO WE CAN HEAR,

“I GOT THIS, BABY, I GOT YOU. I WILL NEVER DROP YOU!”