21 February, 2016

Another Winterfest draws to a close. Our days and nights together have passed so quickly. Not in a blur, not exactly, no … rather, they chime in a sustained and resonant chord, the notes individual … distinguishable … but each essential, intertwined. A music that is ours.

Ours. 

Funny, you’d think I’d be tired out, exhausted. After all, the anticipation of this celebration began last year, the moment the wooden beam dropped into the brackets of the Great Hall doors. And yet … I’m rested. I’ve drawn an energy from you that rejuvenates me, and I intend to revel in it.

What does it mean to rest, to take rest?

We all … wherever we are, in the midst of all that requires us … we all stop for Winterfest. We lay down what we’ve been doing; we turn from how we’ve been doing. Almost in a dream, we start for home. Even those of us who live below feel the change, the pull, for home manifests most vitally with arrival – yours and ours – in this place of safety.   

I find rest in our meeting. In the sharing of laughter and tears, in the give and take of help, in the delight of blessing and being blessed. In the sweep of gratitude – the recollection of all we’ve already been given. In this moment in which we are reminded of the best in ourselves, where we prepare to give our best

How will we ever take leave of one another?

It is my most fervent hope that here you have felt free to take the deepest breath, that any parching you carried below has been slaked by a cup of our sweetest waters, that you are as enthusiastic and sure, as ready, as I am now for what happens next.

Are we not lucky, among the luckiest on this earth, for we know there is light at the end of the tunnel.

So go forth and do good. You carry the soul of the most beautiful flame into the world. Commit – to kindness, to joy, to responsibility, to honor … to love. Remember everything, every astonishment, every miracle, in rich detail. Save every story …

Until we’re together once more,

Father