reflections on one year: gratitude

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It’s taking a while to go through my story. I’m going at whatever pace I think I can go. I’m glad I left headings so I know what’s next as I read (and these headings also inform me of when I might need to stop). Yet as I bounce back and forth between past and present, and while there is still much to mourn and grieve over, there is also much to be thankful for. As I was picking up some pieces of my time at King’s Cross and letting others fall, I’m grateful for the people who came or stayed with me, not really to offer guidance or advice, but primarily to be present.

As I reflect, the first person that comes to mind is Steph. She picked me up out of my stupor when I was shut down within myself, not wanting to talk to anyone. When I became restless and worried about our family’s finances, she assured me everything would be fine. She encouraged me to rest and stay put and work through my loss rather than jumping to the next thing. She gave me space even when the space from the absence of work felt… wrong… when I was restless in myself because of how unhealthy my rhythms had become while working for the church.

I grateful for neighbor/friends who were going through a grief and loss of their own. While the type of our losses were different, the contours of our grief took similar shapes. Grief came and went, and we were not always ready to talk about some aspects of our pain at the same time. But in hindsight, this mutual spurring pushed me to revisit my thoughts at times when I’d rather forget them. Our stories are woven together in ways that only God could have worked together. There’s a mystery and beauty in it.

I’m also grateful for three sisters from the church who would check in with me from time to time. They got coffee with me when I was floating around. They invited me to, and joined me at, a “Blue Christmas” service which was someone I didn’t know I needed (it’s what led to the post script “grief iceberg” exercise at the end of my story). They came over for chats, meals (often dumplings or whatever I had on hand), and boardgames. Their presence reminded me that all was not lost. While I may have known this, sometimes it didn’t feel that way — and I needed to feel it to know it was true.

I’m grateful for ministry friends from my past who initiated conversations with me and asked open questions. We got meals and conversation in the LES, Forest Hills, Midtown, and even in West Nyack. We may have met only once or twice, but you created space for me to share aloud what I was only muttering silently to myself. It was a relief and release valve I didn’t know I needed. Thank you for your encouragement and compassion and sharing your stories with me. It was helpful to know that I wasn’t alone.

For new ministry friends that I made in the vacuum of my loss, especially in Sunnyside… thank you. Thank you for inviting me and my family into your homes. You allowed me to be without expectation that I serve in any way. Thank you for caring conversation, introductions to new friends and neighbors, and loving my family. Sometimes I wonder how my children will remember this season and I don’t doubt that you all will be a part of it. From an informal coffee meet at Aubergine that led to a visit with us finding permanent representation on your church website, to weekly Bible studies and discussions where I could practice how my gifts and talents could still be utilized for good. I’m grateful for good conversation over beers about the nature of faith and community and evening spaces made open for prayer, contemplation, and reflection.

I also want to thank the congregation at King’s Cross, but I may need to do that more thoroughly in a separate post; I’m still working on how to orient my heart toward you with grace and gratitude. I want to reconnect with you all but my heart is still in pieces with regard to you, and I still need more time. Until I can articulate my heart more fully, Thank you for our many years together. I am who I am, not only as a pastor, but also as a person, because of my time with you all in community. It was a gift and and honor to be able to say that it was at King’s Cross where I was first called a pastor.