A Letter from Lindy Feb 2
Well Pilgrims,
Your pastor had a week. Of mishaps. Wednesday, while walking with another Pilgrim, I tripped over an unevenness in the pavement and down I went, knees and hands. I popped back up, not even allowing myself time to register the pain–more embarrassed, than worried. Finally examining myself that evening, I had to acknowledge soreness, and scraped and bruised knees that needed tending.
Then yesterday, our very gracious interior designer, chair of the Trustees, and I were finally putting our heads together because Pilgrim’s wonderful Auxiliary wants to gift the church with new window treatments for the Fellowship Hall, even if our Perking Up Pilgrim restart is idling. As the window treatment decision requires a few others prior to selection, we needed to start with a vision, even if we can’t aspire to its culmination quite yet. Our goal: taking incremental steps toward our vision, so that we build enthusiasm for the unfolding hope for a refreshed campus.
But I digress. My second step of foolishness occurred while searching for a remnant floor tile for Katherine to take with her. Hannah and I came upon multiple tile boxes in the closet. The top box held bright green ones, not what we were looking for. So I, as I am prone to do, forgot my age and began shifting the first box, so we could examine the ones underneath. I’m sure you can fill in the rest of the story. Yes, the box was beyond my strength and I dropped it on my foot.
Shock pulsed through my body. My brain registered the pain, but again I acted as if nothing calamitous had happened (after hopping around for a few minutes). Hannah, much the wiser, paused and asked, “Is it broken?” My response, “don’t think so, I’m walking on it,” and promptly returned to my meeting, denial being my constant companion. 30 throbbing minutes later, our meeting concluded. I stood, only to sheepishly recognize that I had, in fact, done a number on my foot. I took off my shoe and sock to be greeted by a seriously swollen, purple foot. “I guess I should put ice on it”...after, after, as my day was full.
Why am I sharing this accidental tale? I wonder if we're all having a week filled with pain–mental, emotional, spiritual, physical. And us, not quite knowing how to respond to the onslaught. I think, much like my brain tried to deny the pain (twice), I wonder if our collective brains might feel similarly.
How do people of faith respond, and not react, to national malevolent executive orders? Orders that are creating fear, pain, and chaos. So many are rightly afraid for their lives and/or livelihoods. Some feel overwhelmed into paralysis. Some others might experience denial, like I did this week, that these actions will not be real or permanent.
Yet, with my poor body, I needed to address my pain to begin the journey toward care and healing, albeit a bit late. I took steps– rearranged my afternoon, came home, elevated my foot, iced it, trying as I write to stay off it as much as possible.
I don’t know if this analogy works as well on paper as it did in my head, but I hope you see the threads. I trust we will discern a way forward in the coming weeks, months, years that reflects the One we follow. We will link arms in solidarity and resistance against injustice. We will collectively join with others whose hearts ache for our neighbors–be they Samaritans, Priests, or Levites– tending to wounds, offering shelter, sustenance, and resources, creating sanctuary to heal. And together we will grow our courage, stamina, and will to keep practicing what the apostle Paul calls the labor of love like God’s.
Now faith, hope, and love remain, these three, and the greatest of these is love.
Pastor Lindy
(she/her) why pronouns matter