There were two birthdays on our church staff this week which, in normal times, would have meant cupcakes and singing. It has been a while since we have been able to share in these simple pleasures. Even as we slowly try to get back to doing these things which I took for granted before, we still find ourselves in a place of caution out of a desire to keep others safe. One day, those cupcakes are going to taste so wonderful!

A few years back, I recall dropping our kids off during the first week of school and then taking a walk with Sarah around the neighborhood. Like this year, the start date of public schools and Holy Spirit’s school fell within a couple of days of each other and as we walked past a couple of moms chatting in a front yard, we overheard them rejoicing about their children returning to school. It appears that the relief of the end of summer can mirror the end of the school year.

This year, the start of school has arrived without the lightness celebrated by those moms of years past. If you talk to any parents, the beginning of school this year comes with even more trepidation than last year when we all figured out the limitations of virtual remote learning. Unlike last year, children are now in the “at risk” category for this virus and pediatric ICU’s are filling up.

How does hope overcome?  When things are difficult or confusing, how do we still hold and proclaim hope?  This question has been present for us this year in so many ways.  With both pediatric and adult ICU’s full, I worry about our health care professionals who have already given so much of themselves over the last year and a half.  I pray for them to have strength and know how beloved they are.  I worry what it must be like for one’s child who is not eligible to be vaccinated to have trouble breathing or feel all alone in the hospital and I pray that they know that they are not alone.  If God is to be found anywhere, it is in the midst of the little ones who cannot protect themselves. 

All week our little ones have been showing up to church after lunch for VBS! After we missed VBS last year (even when we tried to reschedule it for Christmas break!), it has been so wonderful to see and feel the energy back on our campus. They have been learning all about Moses complete with crafts, songs, stories, games, and snacks. I can also attest from my own home that they have also been sleeping VERY well every night after all the activities!

It is nice to be home. My family had some wonderful adventures and as always happens near the end of our time away, I get excited about being back at church with you all.

Jesus often drew away to pray and contemplate as we heard in John’s Gospel last Sunday. After he fed 5,000 people in the wilderness he withdrew to the mountain. Jesus not only shows us that time to pray, rest, contemplate, prepare, etc. is important, but further, that time away often finds its completion in returning. Ultimately, we will see the completeness of this dynamic when Jesus rises to fulfill the Good News of Easter after having died on the cross.

How does a Baylor Bear with Baptist roots find his way into the Episcopal Church?

It was a question asked by a few of you, probably sparked by the Baylor references from last week’s Spirit Shot. It is a good question, one worthy of an answer, but since this is a Spirit Shot and not a 50-page essay, I’ll try to answer with brevity.

2011 was a magical football season for Baylor University. Sparked by a great team, yet all held together by the phenomenal quarterback play of Robert Griffin III, affectionately also known as “RG3.”

I can recall attending a Baylor game that year in Waco, at the height of RG3’s remarkable season, and at one point standing in awe in the stadium as nearly 50,000 fans chanted his name.

“RG3! RG3! RG3!” they shouted.

With each great game he played, his name crept higher and higher on the potential Heisman Trophy winner list (an award he did eventually win that year). With each game that Baylor won, RG3 became more of a living legend, a Waco hero.

I have come to believe that one of the many promises to us from God is that this life (and all the moments we are given) can be meaningful, with every breath capable of being seen as a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift that is our life. Yet I still sometimes wonder if I try and stuff meaning into moments where maybe there is none.