I received an anonymous gift in the mail during this upset in our world: a prism to place in my window that catches the Light as it comes, and turns the sunrise into a shower of rainbow dots all over the room, bringing joy and healing to my spirit every day the sun breaks through! From my bed or from my prayer corner for awhile the light shines–beautiful, comforting, healing! In this closing days of Eastertide, I am aware that through the entire holy season beginning with Lent, I have been focused on the clouds–real and metaphorical–that have dominated airways–through the media and through personal stories of grief and loss. Even the Easter we celebrated, virtually, seems remote and covered over.
Yet as I received and have learned how to use my rainbow prism, it has become a symbol for me of another truth, which is that behind and through the Great Grayness–of pandemic, of flood, of corruption, of loss–the Light is shining; none of those griefs can douse it! I have been given Light by witnessing the open hearts for so many to care for the most fragile and endangered members of our community, including former students of mine who routinely put themselves on the line for the hungry, the frightened and the those in despair. I take great joy when I see how creatively and vigilantly another former student in ministry cares for the children and women in her church, from a distance. I am blessed when I am able to participate in music that comes in the worship services on-line each Sunday, with leaders both taking the lead and adding the harmony to what we are invited to sing. I am experiencing new dimensions of my beloved family–their resilience, their creativity, their breadth of curiosity and interest! I was surrounded by a rainbow of joy when out of the blue, I heard from my granddaughter, replete with video, asking me to help on a school project.
Primarily though I see points of Light in my sharing this faith journey with so many others, sheltered in place, chafing at the limitations, anxious about the road ahead, yet still faithful in the struggle to hear, to see, the feel the Light of the Holy on themselves and in the world God loves. Out of the shared struggle comes so many question, so many dead ends, yet so much hope!
The book of Lamentations in the Hebrew Bible is all about that grievous struggle–loss, corruption, limitation–yet right in the middle, I find these words: The steadfast love of the Holy One never ceases/God’s mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning!” Like rainbow prism dots all around my room when the sun breaks through the clouds! I am grateful!
I really appreciated this. My preacher asked in Bible study this week “How is your Easter?” I responded, “I’m still in the tomb.” I’m having a hard time seeing anything after the end of this. There’s no horizon. I’m still stuck. I understand those of my friends who suffer with depression. I’m not clinically depressed, but I can see how it might feel. I’ll definitely look for the “coming of the light.”
Elizabeth Nordquist said:
Oh, Abbie! Isn’t this all so hard? I am sometimes angry that I have arrived at this august age, and the world is still putting out so much to deal with. You Daily Five is one of the Lights that I count on daily, to help me resist the darkness! Hang in there! It’s the time to “be here now!” and to recognize “THIS is the day the Lord has made…” Be of good cheer! You’ve got a friend in me!