Dear St. Luke’s,

I feel like I am a person with very few psychological tics. I love all types of food. I am generally adaptable to different situations. I don’t fixate on certain cleanliness routines, but I am far from a slob. However, I do have two odd things that get under my skin. The first is wooden popsicle sticks. I hate them, and the thought of biting down on one causes my teeth to hurt. Weird, right? What’s even weirder is that my mom has the same thing, so somehow, she passed it down to me. My other weird tic is that I have a fear that the leaves won’t grow back on the trees. I know that fear is irrational, but I cannot stop that thought from popping up in my mind when I look out the window every January and wish for spring.

The days are finally getting longer, but the days are still dark and it is cold. It’s a sign for us that just because things are getting better, they are not quite good. How our Church year lines up with the seasons is especially moving for me this time of year. Just as I have an irrational fear that spring will never come, sometimes I fear that other types of dark seasons will remain so forever, and this pandemic is a perfect example. In March of 2020, I thought that six weeks was more than enough to get this under control, and we are approaching our second anniversary. There has been a substantial joy this past year, but with recent policy changes from the state, we find ourselves again in a season where we are divided on how to move forward, and it is exhausting.

Probably the most exhausting bit is that almost everyone seems to think they know a clear way forward. Ironically, this makes it impossible to move forward, when no one can agree, and compromise is often not possible. As all of these ideas are gushing into the world, I fear our divisions will dampen the light that is growing amongst us. However, as I continue to talk to the people that have become my friends and community this past year, I realize that my fear is as unfounded as my fear that the leaves will not grow back on trees.

People who are blinded by their self-righteousness are as visible as the bare limbs of a winter tree. Just as the tree is alive just below the bark, people who may disagree still strive for community. Goodwill and desire for fellowship come back to life in the spring. Even though we long for Easter and warmth, we still have to live through the penitence of Lent and the coldest months of the winter, and when it is bleakest, we shouldn’t forget the life that God has given us just beneath the surface.

Blessings,

Nick