(A six part series on our recent time in the country)
This town has been a refuge: a place to stop and be; a place to grow and gain bearings; to be reconciled to God and to each other; paving the way for new beginnings.
It hasn’t looked like that: day-to-day it’s just been a long, hard slog. Sickness, injury, infertility, isolation.
And yet, here, in this strange hideaway, here we have not diminished but truly, we have grown.
Though it feels as if we have failed – again and again – there is an undeniable prevailing and potential perhaps for flourishing here, yes, even flourishing. For, God’s Holy Spirit is remarkable, to be sure!
Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away. Psalm 90:10
His death sent visceral shockwaves through our community. Ripples of grief spread through every generation of this town as old tears were shed with new ones.
I did not know him personally, this strapping young man, but only of him and his young sister who attends the school I work at. It was in support of her and our school staff and simply as a member of the community that I attended his funeral.