Sunday, May 23, 2021

Giving with the wind

I did the homily and communion at the funeral of my good friend, T., today.

It was difficult to see him in his casket and to sit next to his wife in the service and hold her hand.

I had a bag with my communion stuff and prayer book beside me on the floor. His great-grand-daughter, Zoe, who can't be much more than 2, came over and took out a sleeve of communion wafers and carried them around. Someone got them back to me. But it was lovely, like she wanted to give communion to us all!

Life sends us difficult times.

I was out on the deck just now. The wind was blowing hard and the trees--over a dozen of them I could see, were swaying and bowing with the wind.

That's what we have to do as well.

Give with the winds of Life.

Sway but not break.

Move on.

Here's a poem I wrote years ago about that. I probably posted it before, but my day, with T.'s death and Zoe's wanting to give communion, reminded me of it.

       Giving with the Wind


Standing on the deck of my good friend’s house,

loaned for the week, I watch the tall, tall trees

give with the wind.

                              Tall, tall--a hundred feet

or more, sparsely branched, swaying to and fro.


It is Vermont in May. Today it snowed.

The wind swept up the mountain from below

and those ancient pines, moving several feet,

gave with the wind.

                               I smoke and drink white wine,

Watching them bend and bow and almost dance.


Ageless wisdom, planted in dark soil:

“Resist not. Cling not. Do not rigid be.”


Give with the wind. Sway deeply. Bend and dance.

The storms of life, blow as they might, pass on.












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some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.