Hallowed Joy and Love

I was on a roll with reflecting on the Advent Season until the world took a wrong turn. I have not posted in a couple of weeks mostly because, while I can think of lots of things to post, I wonder why I want to put them out there on the internet. I feel guilty about my life moving on (some aspects faster than others). I have started thinking about why I am still posting here. What I want to post about - random life occurrences? Deep Thoughts by Jenski? Maybe just make a better effort to stay in touch with people? Those thoughts are for another time...a few more posts...but for now, some catch-up.

The third week of advent is supposed to be Joy. Joy is difficult to strive for when there is so much sad suddenly. Our pastor shared that two of the most difficult jobs to have after a tragedy has occurred are those of a reporter and a pastor. The most difficult idea to convey and to grasp is that there can be joy found in tragedy. That loving those you have and being kind to people is a way to honor those who have been lost. If you have not heard, looking for the helper is a good way to start finding that hallowed joy.

Fred Rogers about when he was a child and would see scary things: My mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers-so many caring people in this world.

The final week of advent, the week of Love, I was home and went to the church where I grew up. I was mostly interested in how I felt about the pastor now that I have found a church where I am touched or inspired by the sermon on a weekly basis. The sermon/message at the church in which I grew up was non-traditional, so I did not hear a sermon from the pastor. For me though, the message of Love for the week came from the people I know there - hugs from many, questions about whether I was back to ring handbells, and people noticing that my Mom, CF, and I left quickly after the service (which was then mentioned to me on Christmas Eve). The Love for the week came to me in the roots I had in the church, and not in looking for whether I could still find meaning in the pastor's message. It was good that I did not end up comparing my experiences there with my current church and could just enjoy my annual Christmas visit.

I did not take a picture, but every time I go back there, I smile and my heart is warmed by the hand-made sign proclaiming that it was the first open and affirming church in its state.