Missing and Remembering Friends

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” (Philippians 1:3)

This beautiful stained glass candle holder was a gift to me last Christmas from Dave and Jane Westerfield, dear WCC friends who made the move to Michigan a few years ago now. I miss them so, and they come to mind almost everyday when I light the candle inside and the warm glow appears. It’s a powerful thing, this remembering, because it leads me to gratitude for those I’ve been blessed to spend a season of life with. yesterday after lighting the candle I decided to find some old church directories and look at the faces of so many who once were part of my daily life and no longer are. Many have moved; some have transitioned to other faith communities; others I have lost track of. I spent about an hour remembering moments together — conversations, mission trip experiences, small group sharings, times of praying together, and sharing communion, and watching children grow. The power in this is not just in remembering, but in how this remembering leads me to a time of thanksgiving, of telling God I’m grateful for so many who have filled my life’s journey with friendship and joy. That must have been what Paul had in mind in so many of his letters, when he remembers his days spent in different church communities and thanks God.

The gift the Westerfield sent my way also helps me reflect on the wonderful way that the church connects us, and gives us a close gathered community of support, friendship, worship and work that never completely fades away. So many remark how Winnetka Covenant Church remains one of their “home places” even though life’s journey has moved them on somewhere else. So I’m learning that when I have the chance to remember and miss friends, I find myself grateful for the memories and experiences we once shared, as I wonder when we’ll see each other again.

And there is something practical I can do to find this gratitude. I can put things in my way — in my daily eyesight — that connect me to so many of you who I have loved.

Time moves us on, and that’s as it should be. But I’m thinking back over my last twenty-one years here, and looking at the names and faces of many of you who I no longer see, but remember with gratitude and joy. rule I do thank my God when I remember you.

Thanks for getting that party started, Westerfields!

Missing and Remembering Friends

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” (Philippians 1:3)

This beautiful stained glass candle holder was a gift to me last Christmas from Dave and Jane Westerfield, dear WCC friends who made the move to Michigan a few years ago now. I miss them so, and they come to mind almost everyday when I light the candle inside and the warm glow appears. It’s a powerful thing, this remembering, because it leads me to gratitude for those I’ve been blessed to spend a season of life with. yesterday after lighting the candle I decided to find some old church directories and look at the faces of so many who once were part of my daily life and no longer are. Many have moved; some have transitioned to other faith communities; others I have lost track of. I spent about an hour remembering moments together — conversations, mission trip experiences, small group sharings, times of praying together, and sharing communion, and watching children grow. The power in this is not just in remembering, but in how this remembering leads me to a time of thanksgiving, of telling God I’m grateful for so many who have filled my life’s journey with friendship and joy. That must have been what Paul had in mind in so many of his letters, when he remembers his days spent in different church communities and thanks God.

The gift the Westerfield sent my way also helps me reflect on the wonderful way that the church connects us, and gives us a close gathered community of support, friendship, worship and work that never completely fades away. So many remark how Winnetka Covenant Church remains one of their “home places” even though life’s journey has moved them on somewhere else. So I’m learning that when I have the chance to remember and miss friends, I find myself grateful for the memories and experiences we once shared, as I wonder when we’ll see each other again.

And there is something practical I can do to find this gratitude. I can put things in my way — in my daily eyesight — that connect me to so many of you who I have loved.

Time moves us on, and that’s as it should be. But I’m thinking back over my last twenty-one years here, and looking at the names and faces of many of you who I no longer see, but remember with gratitude and joy. rule I do thank my God when I remember you.

Thanks for getting that party started, Westerfields!

Gratitude Is

Well, here we are again.

Thanksgiving week. The beginning of the holiday gamut – from here until New Year’s, it’s a sprint. A sometimes merry sprint, but often a stressful one, full of shopping and wrapping and baking and delivering and planning and visiting, and and and…

And, it’s still one of my favorite times of the year. Starting with this week, this holiday.

I love Thanksgiving and not just for the stuffing – though it doesn’t hurt. I love that it’s a day, despite its admittedly complicated history, that we set aside to celebrate our blessings and exercise at least some degree of gratitude for all of them.

That the only gifts we focus on are on plates in front of us and in chairs next to us.

But as I was preparing next week’s Sunday School lesson on gratitude, I realized that we can often turn our gratefulness into something less genuine and organic, and something more performative and perfunctory. As usual, I was led and inspired in this by Kate Bowler, in a short series of videos posted on her YouTube from the spring of 2020.

In the first video I watched, she talks about how gratitude can become a script, a way to “manage the experience we have of having our lives be hard” or an “off-ramp” to that challenge and struggle.

It’s something we feel compelled to perform, and have others perform, to manage our discomfort at the way life just sometimes turns out rough.

Everything feels awful right now, butttttttt I’m grateful because…!

And as I kept watching and listening to Kate, I heard her say this: gratitude is not a solution. It will not fix things. It does not take anything out of the “minus column” of your life, or diminish what’s already there.

But she also reminded me of what it is: that gratitude is “the beauty of small details…it is the ability to allow smaller and smaller things to count in the plus column…it is good and beautiful because it is the overflowing of a heart that is full of joy and a brain that can start noticing the little details…it’s an accounting of lovely goodness.”

An accounting of lovely goodness.

Of small details.

Things are hard these days, friends, and I won’t deny it. The days are short and cold, the nights are long and dark. Conversations in our congregation are tense, and they in many ways mirror conversations in the culture around us: divided, discouraged, frustrated. The holidays will bring joy to many and also deep sadness to many.

But in the midst of all this, God is still good, still sprinkling little blessings throughout our days. And so we can still account for that lovely goodness.

We can still notice and celebrate the small details, and let them count in the “plus column.”

Like the way the sunlight plays on my dining room floor in the morning.

The warmth of that first cup of coffee.

The flight of a bright yellow leaf off its tree branch and down to the sidewalk below.

We don’t have to perform gratitude, or use it to mask that life is hard. But we can hold it hand-in-hand with sadness, and find things that are beautiful and lovely and good. That God has left for us to notice. That will help us see that it’s not always and only hardness, but also goodness in our world.

I pray you see more of it, more of these small lovely details, in this Thanksgiving week and in the weeks to come.

-Pastor Jen