A BLESSING FOR NEXT STEPS, RE-ENTRIES, AND UNKNOWN FUTURES
May you find old and familiar spaces ready to welcome you.
May you hear them whisper, “We have missed you.”
May you hear them whisper also:
“We have new things in mind for you.
You have left us to lie fallow
over these days that turned to weeks,
over these weeks that turned to months.
We have spent that time, as we hope you have, imagining a future that is new,
that is vibrant, that is mystery.
We are not just windows and walls,
wait till you see what we can do and be in the days to come.”
May you sit in Zion’s many worship spaces and listen to the silence that has pooled there.
When the sunlight drifts through a stained-glass window,
when the cool shadows of room 100 sigh peacefully,
may you see from the corner of your eye
the lingering reflections of friends and neighbors who are no longer with us,
may you glimpse their joy at your return,
may you hear them singing softly a favorite hymn.
We are not the community we were when we departed these halls,
we remember the ones who have departed,
we name their names in these sacred spaces.
May you listen deeply to the movement of the Holy Spirit,
opening yourself to a realization that is both blessing and shock:
We are not the community we were before,
we are not the individuals either,
we have grown and developed, found new interests and new joys.
Some of us have been counting down the days until we could pick up the familiar.
Some of us have discerned different callings,
and we are ready to leave former ministries to new hands and hearts and imaginations.
May you recognize, in these weeks after the stirring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost,
that the holy wind is still blowing,
that God is still up to something wonderful and scary at the same time.
May hymns of thanksgiving swell up from your toes.
May you walk; no, skip; no, dance into the future to which God is calling you.