I’m writing on the evening of the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. We call it the first day of summer, and the weather is in agreement this year. Actually, it’s so warm outside that I’ve shuttered my home to allow the darkness to help keep it cool. Yet there is still something different about sitting in the cool darkness that is summertime; the angle of the sun through the back window is different, the knowledge that I can open my door and walk out with bare feet and immediately feel them warmed on the bottom. When I think of what is approaching, that’s different too; I’m not planning Christmas Eve worship, but am preparing for time away.
I’m looking forward to a chock-full summer, with more trips than I usually take. Ron and I will be attending my daughter’s (Natasha) dance competition in Las Vegas, I’ll be present at my soon-to-be daughter-in-law’s (Marisa) bridal shower in San Diego, and Natasha and I will be visiting my ailing father in Michigan, then go on to see my sister (Susan) and sister-in-law (Beth) in Boston. Just the anticipation of all these trips has my emotional wheel turning. My daughter is becoming an impassioned young adult, her dance company and its members an important part of her life. I’m thrilled to be getting ready for my oldest child’s (Eric) wedding; they’ve been working so hard on all of the preparations for their fall celebration. I feel grateful to be able to visit my dad (Richard) and his wife (Susanne) in Michigan. You might remember that Ron and I visited there last year, but my father has deteriorated, and I need to make a visit now, while I can still have some sort of relationship with him. It will be so nice to have Natasha with me, to show her around the places where I grew up, and then to take her on to the wonderful historic sites that Susan and Beth have planned for us.
It doesn’t sound much like rest, but it does feel like summer and I am excited to enter into that new energy, the time these warm holidays allow for relationship deepening, for refection and renewal. I’ll be in the pulpit once more before my vacation begins and then again the week I return.
I look forward to hearing about your travels, even those restful moments where you stay put. Remember to gather water from your trips, as brief or local as they may be. We will mingle our waters on September 11th – a big anniversary day, so we’ll use these trips, and each of their own emotional and spiritual meanings to help heal the wounds of our country, to acknowledge our connectedness.
With love for the relationships and gratitude for the rest,