I’ve been taking a lot of walks, which is one of the side effects of a new puppy who is learning to be house trained. But I did manage to get to the Presbyterian Church yesterday– and that was the perfect choice. I am an Episcopalian through and through, and while I love our little mission, the priest is not in town, and I was not up for the intimacy of Morning Prayer with a half-dozen of us sitting in a semi-circle taking turns weighing in on the lessons of the day. Sometimes I need to sit in the back of a crowded church where there is more privacy to pray.
Ron Horn gave a great sermon. The best I’ve heard him deliver. He said the neo Nazis and white supremacists in Charlottesville are what evil looks like– and that our response must be to never tolerate it, and to do good, and love one another. His wife Jacque delivered the children’s sermon, and gave him a run for his money. She spoke of the reflective light of the moon– and called on the children to reflect God’s love in the world. (All of us eaves-dropping from the pews now will try that, too.) On any other Sunday I may have even preferred the simplicity of hers (don’t tell Ron.) Given the news, his was so right on. (What is happening to our country? I’m sick. Nazi flags?! American Nazis? The KKK?! )
Ron also spoke on the parable of the sower– and reminded us that in order to allow God’s love for us to grow we have to be fertile deep soil, not rocky,or shallow. Of course I sat there smugly thinking I have that much at least, no matter how messed up everyone else is morally. But then Ron said we followers of Jesus need to be wary of harsh thoughts toward others. Gods ways are not our ways and all that. Confession: I have had a lot of not so kind thoughts lately toward the recall folks. That’s really why I attend church. To try harder at kindness and forgiveness.
I was planning on writing a great blog about that, but this draft will have to suffice, as I have this puppy who is not letting me sit at my desk. And I can’t figure out how to use my new laptop to write on the fly (or in the yard, deck, kitchen, while watching the rug in case of an almost pee… ) and I need to make up some guest beds as my son-in-law and his dad are arriving any minute on the ferry.
I did pick the last of the cherries in the windy wet — but left a few for the crows and ravens, and spent two hours cleaning the house after church because I wanted to. It made me feel better to sweep the sand off the floors, wash the dog beds, and tidy up. I’ve let a lot go the last few months — the need to ride my bike, garden, visit with family and friends, emergencies, and trips have all been wedged in between borough meetings and taken priority over house chores just to keep my sanity with this recall. Now it’s almost over, and my house is clean, and my heart has been polished too, by a good church service, and some really nice notes from people I care about– including one from my friend Annie, with a W.B. Yeats poem The Lake Isle of Innisfree in it, in which she highlighted, “And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow.” Yes it does, on so many levels, near and far– peace comes dropping -or even dripping- slow. But it comes. That much I’m sure of.
