Sometimes life is like this. A minister friend, Meg, was invited to sit in front of a forum involving two groups that, truth be told, would rather the other not exist. One side spoke and shouted. The other side spoke and shouted. Words passed like light—invasive and all-encompassing but little understood. Exhausted, they turned to Meg. Have you anything to add? Meg rose. “If you are in this camp, God loves you. If you are in that camp, God loves you.” And then she sat down.
Grace abounds, grace abounds.
And sometimes life is like this. I once went to a meeting with my District Executive in Delaware. Assuming I knew her position, I joked around with her. “Oh yes, I’m a UU Christian, but my Christology is appropriately low.” “What is wrong with a high Christology?” she asked. Two weeks later, I learned that she left our place for a Catholic place. Assuming I knew her position, I forgot to let her own voice speak. Assuming I knew her position, I forgot to invite her into conversation.
Domination abounds. Domination abounds.
But mostly life is like this. On a Thursday afternoon, books in hand, I said to the one I value and trust: Should we go to the water for a day? Spend some time on the Chesapeake Bay? Yes, I think so. We drove. She sang the songs of her childhood. We watched a sunset. We heard a dog bark. The boats slowly made their way under the bridge. A navy pilot navigated his craft, as he has always done. The woman at the Back Creek Inn gave us directions to a café, where we were served laughter and wine.
Life abounds. Life abounds.
(First Printed in How We Are Called, a meditation manual from Skinner House Books)
May you know that you are surrounded by love.
May you feel God’s grace and peace, today, tonight, tomorrow.
May you know that you are not alone.
May you find the right path, the one just for you.
May you know that you are blessed and a blessing.
May your light shine, now and always.