April 25, 2020
A Reflection from our Clergy

How long, O Lord, how long?
from the Psalmist in Psalm 13:1-2

While I had no idea in the moment, March 11 was my last “normal” day for the foreseeable future. It was a Wednesday, my day to be in the office. After our staff meeting and Lenten mid-week Eucharist, I listened to Bishop Susan via Zoom as she announced to clergy her directive that all churches in the Diocese were to be closed to public worship and to all gatherings of more than ten people for the next two weeks. “Wow, two weeks?” I remember thinking, “that’s a really long time, but I guess I can do that.” Soon two weeks turned into two months, two months has turned into three months with no set date for worship in the church building—or most of the rest of our regular routines—to return to normal. How I miss you and worshiping with you! I miss the weekly dinners with neighbors, weekly bridge games, going to visit my grandchildren—and who would have thought, I miss going to the grocery store. One of the hardest pieces of this stay-at-home routine for me is not knowing how long it will last. I suspect I’m not alone in that feeling.

Some time ago Kerry and Suzanne, my daughters who live in Bloomington, Indiana, introduced me to Carrie Newcomer, a folk singer who also calls Bloomington home. We caught her performance at Jammin Java when she came to Vienna a few years ago. I love her music and find a spiritual component in her lyrics. At the beginning of this pandemic she wrote a song that continues to speak to my feelings about this time.
A Small Flashlight

The way is dark up ahead of me
The way is dark and I cannot see
What I love the most is a flashlight beam
Lighting up the way when I cannot see
 
The way unfolds like an open hand
The way unfolds like I didn’t plan
And only in looking back do we understand
That the way was true as an open hand
 
Over trials and troubles I’ve already come
And the net appeared when I needed one
Yes, the road is dark and the ground is rough
Most of the time a flashlight has to be enough
 
We move forward one step at a time
Wide-eyed and hopeful, lost and half blind,
Mistake by mistake, we all learn to be kind
 
There is so much to see and to realize
If I could close my mouth and open up my eyes
And the world will tell us more than enough lies
But we’ll find our way with a small flashlight
“That’s it!” I thought when I heard her song. I just need to have a small amount of light at a time, just enough light to illuminate the next few steps. I can go that far, and then look for enough light to see my way to the next few. Then I began to think about where I’m finding the light. God, who has seen me through trials and troubles in the past, is certainly my greatest source of light. Holy Comforter is another light source. Though we’re physically distant, I still feel the love and support of this community. My list goes on, as I’m guessing your list does, too. Spouse and family and friends and neighbors all are beacons of light shining brightly through this time. The beauty of this spring is another light in this time, a reminder of God’s re-creation.
My next wondering was how I might possibly hold a light for others. I’ve enjoyed getting in touch with friends and family, reminding them of the important place they hold in my life. Sharing where I have found light to point the way for the next steps is another way I hope to hold the small flashlight for others.

It is hard not knowing how long this will go on. I am working on closing my mouth (to complain about it) and opening my eyes to the gifts this time might hold. My small flashlight and Carrie Newcomer’s song about it remind me that I do have enough light to take the next few steps, and that’s all I need. The more I look for light, the more I find, and the more I find, the more I have to share. May it be so for you as well.

Jackie+