I have to say, my last day in Chicago was not exciting.
We got up and started moving right away. Andrew and a few of our friends got the rest of the POD packed in an hour, and I did multiple rounds around the house to throw away trash, empty our fridge, organize what goes in the car, etc.
We ate lunch with some friends.
We came back and folded laundry and heard about some new adventures a friend has ahead of him.
We went to dinner with Mabrie, Jack, and Marelen. And of course, got gelato.
We visited with some friends who are also in the transition from seminary to ministry process.
Now we crash and go to sleep.
Yes, this is not an exciting day... we didn’t do out-of-the-ordinary, bucket-list kind of stuff. Our lives carried on as normal. As if this place will remain the same when we return as the day we left it.
At the end of the day, I wouldn’t have wanted my day to be exciting and whirlwind. It was absolutely perfect the way it was — I couldn’t have imagined it any other way.
It was Us.
So Chicago, what if I’d never met you?
I wouldn’t be the lady I am today.
(And I’m not talking about a street-savvy foodie who knows how to use her horn in traffic.)
I’m talking about the lady who has bumped up against amazing people, and found family.
Who has seen the need for justice, mercy, and grace — and responded.
Who has made her faith her own.
Who has felt lost along the way at times, but has discovered who she is.
I recently printed off this prayer that we received as a staff at Covenant Point Bible Camp when I worked there and kept it at my desk. It stirs up so many things inside me about the work we have done here, and the work to be done in Connecticut and wherever else we find ourselves.
I hope you read it, enjoy it, and take time to reflect on whatever season you find yourself in today.
The Prayer of Oscar Romero
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.
