Poignant

Friends,

I did not expect to write tonight, but our holiday trip to Cambridge and our planned family reunion have been cancelled, and I’m home.

We had already been in Seattle Thursday afternoon planning to attend the Messiah in the evening before boarding a plane for Boston the next morning. At a little after 5 p.m. our son Zach called to say that he, Noor and the girls were all testing positive with Covid. We could not risk infection so the decision to cancel the trip, even on the spot, was easy but shocking. So we called the airlines immediately, settled our refundable plane tickets, and the hotel generously allowed us to reuse some of our reservations later and cancel others without a penalty. We then attended the Messiah concert thankfully. This is the third time this year our careful travel planning had to be cancelled or delayed due to various medical, weather, and other reasons. As in the past we will just continue to try to reschedule at a later time. The best made plans have no guarantee.

And then I think how utterly minor our disrupted holiday plans are compared to some 100,000 people in the Skagit, WA flood plain whose lives have been deeply impacted with the long term devastation from the extensive flooding to their farms, businesses and homes. If you, your family or friends have ever experienced flooding, or have seen a raging, flooded river, you can understand the catastrophe these folks are experiencing.

In addition to the ongoing combination of the Covid epidemic, MAGA politics, the weather related to global warming, health issues, immigration, wars and and war mongering, I suspect many others have found that the best made plans in life haven’t worked out at some time during this year, perhaps especially during the holidays and special occasions. Dealing with the disappointments and all the adjustments, and the rescheduling that follows, adds to the feeling how unreliable life seems to be these days. It was therefore timely that, although I may not accept Christian theology as represented by the Messiah, I was thrilled to hear the soloists, full chorus and orchestra  -- in grand musical style -- encompass the whole range of the human condition from critiques of the folly of war and greed to the tender, poignant reassurance of a loving God. The Messiah reminds us it’s all there, folks!

And then to deliver an poignant global perspective on life, we hired an Uber driver who is an Uganda refugee mother who described to us what it was like to be forced to leave her country and young children under the threat of death. Her harrowing story is one of literally millions of our fellow world citizens who have been displaced by war, famine, civil unrest, the ongoing trauma of deep personal loss. And as we commemorate a vulnerable baby Jesus and his family, we hold all the world’s children in prayer.

So this morning I got up early, and in the candlelit dark I tried to assess my feelings about what it means to miss seeing the grandchildren, but also assess my feelings about the past forty-eight hours. As I rested in quiet I remembered how much I appreciate the essential story of Jesus’ birth: a poor family giving birth as refugees amidst military occupation and dictatorial death threats, and then the child is heralded as the one destined to offer hope through the teachings of nonviolence and an ethic of inclusive love for the people. So as I watched the light break over the outlines of the Cascade mountains, covered by the sweep of the flowing overhead clouds, I was reminded that life has both the element of the permanence of the mountains and the impermanence of the transient clouds. I need to see and feel both for reassurance that the sheer reality of life includes both a sense of security amidst all the life-giving but temperamental, impermanent clouds that brought such flooding devastation to so many in our state

Needless to say, the last two days have had more emotion than I can adequately process. Each of you, during this holiday season, is also likely facing some form of concern and worry for yourself, your family and friends -- and for the wider world  -- even as we celebrate peace and hope. Think of the mountains and the clouds for perspective. And may the Christmas story of Jesus’ birth remind you of the love and hope that it commemorates.

Peace,
Tom