A few weeks ago I wrote encouraging preachers, leaders, and all Christians to pack their go-bag for the election cycle. When I wrote it I was anticipating months of uncertainty about the outcome of the election and the necessity of being prepared for the anxiety.
This morning, we have the bitter gift of certainty. The winner is clear. For many of us, the outcome is like a grave diagnosis. We arrived at the doctor uncertain of what is happening to us and we left with an answer we didn’t want. While the answer gave us clarity, it opened up a thousand more questions and choices about time, expense, pain, and survival.
So what do we do on the morning after? When certainty is threatening to push out our hope?
Well here is what I did.
I turned off the podcasts and TV. I stopped reading the autopsies of what went wrong and the forecasts of what is to come.
I took a shower and put on fresh socks. I made a cup of coffee and watched the mourning doves at the feeder. I studied a squirrel furiously looking for a place to hide away a nut. I dripped the faucet so my orange cat, Julien, could have a drink. I cuddled my corgi, Brother Juniper. I’m thinking about what my wife and I should have for supper.
I’m resting in the silence of the start of a new day. I am letting the silence hold the pain of certainty, disappointment, fear, and anger.
I’m tending to the sacred that is mine to care for — my body, my mind, my heart. I’m caring for my family– wife, dog, and cat.
There are plenty of days ahead when my work will be to speak and name and act. But on the morning after, I am resting in silence to better hear the Spirit and to let her tend to me.
I hope you find a way to do the same. Let go of the burden to speak right now. Make space for kindness and maybe even joy. Not to escape reality, but so you can be ready for when it is time to act.
In a world consumed by fear and hatred, joy and kindness are defiant acts.
Take care of the sacred entrusted to you.
Make space for silence so that you can do the deep listening for what God is working in this moment.
Check your go-bag. Make sure your tools and supplies are ready, and that your seeds of hope are there.
Remember, seeds grow best in the quiet darkness of the earth.
Thank you for this Kelley!
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Beautifully written, important perspective Kelley.
We grieve together, we encourage one another, and we learn how to love the person who is in front of us, for they are our neighbor.
And we treat our neighbor with the same compassion and care that we want for ourselves.
Malcolm Marler
malcolmmarler@gmail.com
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I need your words today. Thank you.
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Thank you for this.
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