Piloting Faith: Dancing with a limp...

A Word for the Day...

This past week, my sweet mother-in-law, Nin, who has lived with us for the past two years passed away. She was 99 years old. She lived a long and wonderful life, and her passing was not unexpected. But for those of you have lost ones you love, you know it doesn't always make it easier.

I am grateful that she made her transition in the season of Advent, the time we are waiting on the new birth of Jesus. It's a reminder that life is about birth, death and birth again. We love someone, we are transformed by that love and then we have to let them go.

We are lucky because we get to have a genuine celebration of Nin's life next weekend at her memorial. We will tell stories of her witty humor and endless generosity. We will sing the old hymns she loved. We will hug one another and give thanks that we were loved by such a remarkable woman.

Author Anne Lamott once wrote about grief by saying, "You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp."

Ecclesiastes 3:2 says that for everything there is a season, a time to be born and a time to die. Maybe there is also a time to dance with a limp. Maybe it's a sign that you have loved and been loved.

We will limp through Advent together. Love to you and yours, Dear Ones.

- Rev. Cameron Trimble, author of Piloting Church: Helping Your Congregation Take Flight

Prayer for the Week

Loving God,

Sometimes I can look at someone and see their pain. I can see their loneliness and feel their sadness. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see those things in me. Help me to not turn away or ignore what I or others are really feeling. Give me the patience to sit with my neighbors as they navigate their pain and welcome their accompaniment as I navigate my own. Through it all, help us all remember that we are not alone. You are with us always.

Amen.