Between attending a virtual conference and taking a week of study leave to re-center, February felt impossibly short. And I’m admittedly looking forward to more spring flowers and less black ice – I know mud season will come in the middle, that shift between phases and temperatures and more stable footholds.
I remember when Covid hit and everything shutting down felt oddly like a snow-day, like there was some relief in the change of pace. And now, as things appear to be improving, it’s more like the crusty end of winter, when everyone’s a little vitamin D deprived and sparkle of first snow has gotten really old – spring seems like a dream that hasn’t yet been realized and who knows what shoes to wear.
We’re mid-shift ourselves: reopening the sanctuary, not singing or coffee hour-ing, but imagining that we might possibly be able to soon; beginning a new pledge campaign and boldly making budgets around our vision for next year; planning for OWL and auction events and summer.
And amidst that wafting sense of impending hope, the scope of the world’s suffering feels too big to hold. My family welcomed a new baby last week, born the day before my own birthday, and the day after Russia began a war with Ukraine. Life is so big and expansive, so devastating and so loving all at once.
Theology, I think, is less about names for the sacred than it is about what we see as powerful, where we put our faith and the choices of our living. It is possible to worship war and destruction, to call ourselves powerless and forgo any kindness. But that’s not what Unitarian Universalism asks of us. Ours is a tradition that holds love and hope as ultimate powers, that asks us to align our lives with care no matter what, that believes in renewal and possibility without end.
And I, for one, have always loved spring.
*Please note that my days off are typically Friday and Saturday.
I try to respond to emails within 48 hours, but that is not always possible. I appreciate your patience.
The Membership Engagement Team and Rev. Laurel are always here to support you. We know that caring looks different right now, as we keep physical distance. Rev. Laurel is, like so many of us, working from home.
If you’d like to make an appointment for pastoral care, you can schedule time for a phone or zoom call here: Calendly link. She can also be reached by email or her cell phone at 401-932-7855. Feel free to text or call if something is urgent or you just need to check in.