It is a New Moon today. The Spring equinox being yesterday, today is the first full day of Spring. In a few short hours, I will close on a home. The light is overcoming, again.
And in the midst of all this, the crossing guard is visible down the hill outside my window. And someone I cannot see has driven by him in an orange smart car. A woman in a black sweat suit, wearing one pastel blue (but bright) mitten has stopped to speak to him in animated gestures. Now his hands are up, joining in empathetic gesticulation.
My mother, afraid and introspective in her adjustment to the stage of elder, and a brother still finding his own voice in adulthood are rousing behind me as we prepare for this momentous day that refracts forward and backward trough generational stories in our family, in every spatial direction toward the various trials, stuggles, and dreams of my nuclear family still healing and becoming on this plane of life.
And spreading out from this home, in every direction, are myriad other vignettes of eternity, each a point within a person, barely known to themselves (if much at all). All founded on life journeys that cannot be imagined, all going to points we would never expect.
Consider this: The disciples wanted to know where Jesus was staying and he said, simply, “Come and See.” st we feel Holy Week on the horizon, Lazarus’s death will be recalled this Sunday. Jesus wants to know where they laid him and they tell him what he told them in the beginning, “Lord, come and see.” Even God submitted to this reality: There is no knowledge in the way of the Spirit apart from the journey. She whispers truth in shimmering color out of these infinite moments hidden within the countors of human circumstance.
It is a New Moon today and the first full day of Spring and I will close on a home in the midst of all this Mystery.
It is as good a day, and no different from any other, really, to consider what Martin Smith proposes: I can live with the unknown and mystery.
May it be so, God, because there is nothing else but unknown and mystery in this life. Help us to let go, and trust your invitation to come and see.
The Rev. adwoa Wilson