One day...

I put green socks on.  Nicole got them for me last year right before St. Patrick’s Day.  The day has always meant just about nothing to me.  I always get pinched.  I have to ask people if the “holiday” is in March.  But last year I put green socks on, probably for the first time ever, as I was getting dressed and ready for church.

The phone rang.  A member in hospice care was failing fast.  Death was imminent.  “Pastor, can you come?”

Thankfully, we had two pastors, and the other pastor was scheduled to preach. “Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can.  I’ll leave in less than 10, and it’s a 30-minute drive.  Be there soon.  God’s peace to you.”

He died shortly after I got there, right after we commended him into the Lord’s hands and the family kissed him and told him he could go to heaven.  He was Irish.  He loved St. Patrick’s Day.

I put on green socks again this year.  And the kids had a special treat: Lucky Charms.  We never, never, never eat sugary cereal in our house, except once a year when Nicole buys them one box of Lucky Charms for St. Patrick’s Day.  She is so thoughtful.  She even made the best rainbow she could out of the colorful fruit we had in the house, with marshmallow clouds and Rolo candy for the pot of gold.  She's always prepared.

I went to the office.  The ministry team is still hard at work, doing all we can to adjust, keep things running, care for people, and navigate these uncharted waters.  Since we are a small team we can stay away from each other pretty well.  We’re not going in each other’s offices.

It was our Director of Christian Education’s first day in the office.  She was enthusiastic, and we were all excited.  I felt the need to apologize, though, that she was having a strange start here.  No, not apologize, but maybe empathize?

It felt good to meet with the team even though the fact that we were really spread out was a constant reminder that something was terribly wrong in our world.

The piano tuner showed up as previously scheduled.  I guess we could have cancelled, but I'm glad we didn't.  Just a guess, but piano tuners probably don’t mind a little social distance.  I bet many of them fit the funny saying I saw online: “Introverts, please put down your book and check on your extrovert friends.  They are NOT okay!”

The piano was down the hall a way, but I could still hear him gradually work his way up the keyboard, hitting each note about 20 times.  I could hear the pitch bending the first 5 or 6 strikes, but then his trained ear kept perfecting the pitch long after I could tell the difference.

I knew he was done when he started playing.  I recognized the tune and went down the hall to listen from around the corner.  “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine…” sang the piano, in a very sentimental and grandiose rendition, filled with chromatic runs.  Then it sang, “I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it some day for a crown.”  Then the tuner played another hymn that I was sure I had heard before but didn’t know the name of.  It sounded like another folksy American Baptist hymn, the music of which I would call “schmaltzy.”  Then the piano sang one more hymn, “Love divine, all loves excelling…” which reminds us that no love can compare to God’s own love.

It was overall a better day yesterday.  In the early evening, however, there were reports that some schools wouldn’t open for the rest of the school year.  Another cause for alarm.  Another reminder that this is having a huge impact.  Another reminder that this is going to take a while.

It would be easier to wait if we had an end date, or if we were at least on the downhill side of that curve we’re trying to flatten.

I called the 80-year-old widow who lost her husband exactly one year ago.  She was joyful.  Oh, she had spent some time crying that day, but she was thankful for her daughter and her dog, and she likes to work in the yard, and she is the kind of person who hardly ever gets sick, and she’ll garden or just plain dig holes in the yard to keep busy, she said.

She reminded me that I told her a few times to “take it one day at a time” when her husband passed away.  We both remembered and laughed at the time she was leaving church about 6 months ago and told me, “I’m doing better now, pastor, I can take it two days at a time.”

One day this will be behind us.  One day the sun will shine again.  One day we will look back and see how God was with us every step of the way.  One day we will be able to say “Satan intended this for our harm, but God carried us through, and even worked good in the world through it.”  One day…

“Thank you for calling, pastor.  It means a lot to me.  Remember, take it one day at a time.”

"Thank you," I said.  I needed to hear that.

“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” – Matthew 6:33-34

truth + love