I love you.
Sometimes we don’t say this enough in our lives. Like daily to the people closest to us.
And sometimes we neglect to say this enough with those around us occasionally.
For years, Karen and I have had the pattern of a good goodbye and a good hello daily. We believe that this life is tenuous. It is short. We don’t really have guarantees on longevity and we need to relish the moments, embrace the opportunities, and make certain our departures especially are on good terms. It is better to end with a kiss and a goodbye than a “Good Riddance!”
So in this blog, I wanted to tell you clearly, and certainly, and assuredly: I love you.
You are the best congregation of people, the best group of friends, the best collection of beauty imaginable. I love you.
I love your humor, your joy, your messy grace, your inventive love, your creativity, your willingness to dream big, wildly, and unusually.
I love how you have freely tried things:
like painting the walls with handprints and footprints as a picture of us being the hands and feet of Jesus. What an amazing experience that was for so many people!
like block parties with raucous music;
like abandoning the many fundraising events in favor of stewardship;
like welcoming kids to be with us in worship;
like celebrating kids and a shoeless pastor dancing around the sanctuary;
like wild fun parties at the auctions;
like answering questions about scripture some weeks rather than a message FROM scripture
like baptisms at the lake!
like dreaming up a building that was 1000x better than the old one when God launched us into a rebuilding project with a fire!
I love your willingness to take walks, explore neighborhoods, deliver flowers to neighbors and cookies to strip clubs.
I love your heart for the homeless and the hurting, the downcast and the outcast, the drug addict and the lost orphan. You have hearts that weep for the least of these our brothers and sisters. I love this.
I continually learn so much from you because of this heart you have.
I love your laughter and smiles, your hugs and energy, your tears and your joy, your willingness to be weird for the sake of the gospel.
I love how you don’t “fit into” the normal UMC grid at all, because you are outlanders and outlandish together, in the best way. I love this.
I love you and am loving being your pastor these last months together. What a walk this is. Kind of strange and wild, that we only have just over four months left together, right? How does that hit you? It hits me all kinds of wild ways, as I wrote about that a couple of weeks back.
On Sunday, one 10-year-old girl in the congregation clung to me, weeping, saying, over and over again: “Why do you need to leave?” It was a poignant moment for the two of us. I just said, “Honey, just hold on and we will just be together for a moment. Just feel those feelings. It’s ok to have them.” Then, after some of the ‘eye fountains’ stopped, she tried and tried to get those tears to stop sooner, but they wouldn’t. But then, she could breathe more steadily. And we were able to talk more about the reality of change, departure, and sadness and that it is ok to feel it and how we hope to work with this together. It was a precious moment.
That spoke volumes to my own heart too: how loved I am.
Thank you for the love you have shown to me over these years. You love well. And I love you. What a good opportunity this has been.
Around St Valentine’s day, I just wanted to let you know again-- I love you. Thank you for being the best and boldest and most brilliant of people.
Hugs on this day!
Brian