Letter from Amy: Oct 14, 2027
Dear friends,
On Sunday, I drove my daughter back to college and enjoyed a long car conversation with this wise and thoughtful companion. We talked about public executions and failed lethal injections, wars and rumors of wars, algorithms and artificial intelligence, formative works of art, the meaning of life, and the precarity of the future for a young person on the threshold of adulthood. You know, small talk. :)
In response to that conversation, a familiar Wendell Berry poem has been playing in my mind all week:
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry
It is all too easy for despair for the world to grow in me — in any of us — if we pay much attention to the headlines. There are powerful forces of dehumanization active in our world (what scripture calls “principalities and powers”), and it can be hard to hold onto the reality of God in the midst of them.
Berry recognizes this challenge, and in response, he turns not to theology, but to the small and ordinary creatures around him. And so this week, I wondered where I might glimpse the “peace of wild things” and the “grace of the world” right here at Incarnation, in the ordinary creatures of you and me and our neighbors. There is so much evidence of God's peace and grace in our midst, and I thought I'd share a few glimpses of it with you this week:
We held our Saint Francis celebration on Saturday, and I loved seeing TJ bless dogs, a bee, and a snake. Just as we were ready to leave, some neighbors rushed over with their golden retrievers, hoping we could bless their beloved Max, who had survived a brain tumor earlier this year. It’s always such a holy thing to lay hands on an aging pet and express God’s loving care for his creation.
Our 7-14 year olds gathered for their first installment of True Vine Atrium (aka Donuts & Devotions, aka Band Name TBD) before church on Sunday. What do these “wild things” want to talk about in their time together? The books of Job and Ecclesiastes and Revelation; the wounds in Jesus’ side; the deep things of God; prayer. What remarkable young people we have! (What remarkable parents they have!)
A toddler came forward for communion on Sunday with his hands open toward the bread for the first time, looking hopefully at me and asking, “me too?” I am always moved by when children show an interest in the Eucharist; a reminder that God hides himself from the wise and delights to reveal himself to infants (Matt 11:25).
Grant preached such a nourishing sermon as we continued our way through Philippians. I love how many lay people in our congregation have shared in the work of preaching and testimony over the years; we all benefit from hearing the gospel in each other’s voices and stories. Grant's sermon was beautiful, but what really preached was his own presence: gentle, humble, and overflowing with love for our congregation.
On Sunday, we announced our new vestry slate. I was so moved by their bios and the faithfulness of God in their lives. And I am even more moved that they have chosen to serve our church in this way. Please pray for these brave souls!
I’m grateful for the peace of these wild things in our midst, and for the many reminders in our community that God is at work among us. I’d love to hear where you see his small and hidden work in your own life, or how I can pray with you for the places he seems absent.
With love,
Amy
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