Rev. Cara Scriven, Lead Pastor
Over the last year, my youngest girls and I have started a practice of watching a television show in the evenings. We change into our jammies, cuddle up under a blanket together, and watch some good wholesome television. We have watched Anne with an E (based on the Anne of Green Gables), When Calls the Heart, and we have just started Little House on the Prairie. I’ve been surprised how much vocabulary and life lessons have been taught through these shows and the conversations that follow. I have found renewal and joy in our giggling together and our collective screams as characters miss something important.
As I was thinking about this blessing, I realized that this is one of several habits I have developed over the last year. Many of which were created not because I thought they were good for me, but rather out of necessity. For example, with no change in scenery, I needed to find a way to separate work from family time. At first this was really hard, but then, I simply discovered a half hour of reading in my bedroom chair was just enough to change gears. I have also learned the benefits of watching the sunrise each morning and walking in the middle of my day.
I was recently gifted with the book, Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. In her book, Lindbergh, writes “Our daily life does not prepare us for contemplation. How can a single weekly hour of church, helpful as it may be, counteract the many daily hours of distraction that surround it?” Lindbergh goes on to say it is not the many new technologies that are to blame (although she originally wrote this in 1955) but rather our lives no longer contain moments of solitude. Moments of being alone and simply present to the world.
In Psalm 46, we are told to “Be Still and know that I am God.” To be still—to stop. To wait. To be alone. My new habits have helped me to stop long enough to be more present with my family and to be attuned to God more regularly. As I think back to pre-pandemic times, I wonder if I was ever really still. Although I am certain, my life was never filled with as much solitude and stillness as those who lived on the frontier, farmed, or made their home in Walnut Grove.
As I think to the future, I wonder if Lindbergh will be proven right. Will we be more ready to contemplate the mysteries of the universe and God’s actions in the world when we return to in person church? Will our solitude and new appreciation for being alone and for community inform our spiritual lives going forward? Or will we be so eager to return to the way things were that we will forget all that we have learned in the last year?
May the habits that have found and blessed you this year, continue to provide you hope and renewal.