“Joy
and sorrow woven fine”...so said the poet Blake. I have been
thinking about joy and sorrow this month. I think with joy about the
new infants who have joined our community recently. It is such a
delight to hear their sweet voices during the service. It is a joy
to see the young ones getting older and learning to talk and walk and
turning into amazing little people.
I
also think about so many in our congregation who are dealing with
serious illness, or caring for a loved one who is facing such
trouble. I think about those who have lost family members to death.
None of it is easy. I wish I could wrap a blanket of kindness around
each person who is hurting. And maybe that is what church is all
about—not that any of us can do it individually, but that all
together, we can offer kindness and caring to those who hurt.
I
just want to mention that so many of you hesitate to ask for help for
yourselves! We are a congregation of giving people, but remember,
receiving is also a blessing—please reach out if you need a
listening ear, or a little help. I am always happy to get your call,
or find a time to meet over tea. And our Pastoral Care Team and
Caring Connection feel the same way too.
And
to take my own advice, I want to let you know that my partner Margy
has been diagnosed with granulosa cell tumor, a rare kind of ovarian
cancer. It generally has a good prognosis, though one never knows
for sure. She will be having surgery on March 12th,
and be in the hospital for a few days. I will be taking a few days
off to be with her and take care of her when she comes home. And
likely, we'll be calling the Caring Connection for help with a few
meals when she comes home. I am feeling joyful that the prognosis is
good, but sad that she has to go through the ordeal of surgery. I
love her very much.
Life
is full of joy and sorrow, and we all deal with it. I
am reminded of Louise Erdrich's words, in her novel The Painted
Drum:
Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.
