I’ve had plenty of opportunity to think about kin these past months.
I left a church that had woven its heart into my own. We became Spirit kin and moving from them left me wobbly.
I arrived at a new place of making life, soul and ministry and have found kindreds who share hunger and thirst for hope and grace. We are making ourselves known to each other in the breaking of bread and the sharing of song and story. I preach and lead worship with pores open, seeking to hear their hearts and feel their questions. We are learning what it means to be kin.
My children by birth and by marriage have been surrounding their clergy parents with support and love and ground during this time of transition.
Cooper and I are learning a new town and new topography and a life without traffic jams and abundant concrete. The land here speaks in cadences of corn and curve.
We are listening to our lives.
On this day my children by birth are gathering at our cabin. They are celebrating a “sib fest”.
In their midst will be my eldest daughter’s dog. Chela came into Leah’s life in Denver after having roamed the streets. She has been Leah’s steadfast companion during times when her dog heart grounded my daughter in ways life saving. Sometimes I felt like Chela was my heart, able to companion and ground my daughter when I could not.
Said dog is very sick.
I pray body wisdom for my Pit-Bull granddog and heart ease for her mother.
And on this day my heart is sounding wonder about the vastness of love.
Love claims and and companions the making of life and it stretches hearts to the aching place.
We wobble, listen, weep and grow.
We are held by kin who walk on two legs and those who walk on four.