My Own Personal Retreat

Friends, yesterday my oldest graduated from high school, a journey that I’ve been largely involved in as one of her teachers. I spoke at her graduation service, which was both beautiful and challenging to my heart.

Today, I am preaching at my church. Also, beautiful and challenging in its own way. With all these emotions, I needed a break from words. So I’m simply going to share with you the speech I wrote for Ava on her graduation, which is a dream I would dream for us all. And a poem that might allow you to consider the loveliest of the ordinary as you head into the week.

I was thinking this week about Martin Luther King Jr standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial on a hot August day in 1963, the 16th speaker offering wisdom to the giant crowd on the mall. Just as he started to speak, the gospel singer Mahalia Jackson cried out, “Tell them about the dream, Martin.” It’s said that the two locked eyes, and then King set aside his notes and went on to give one of the greatest impromptu speeches of all times.

Today as you graduate, I wanted to tell you about the dream I have for you.

My dream is that you know today and every day that you were created by a good and loving God to bring your particular light into a world where beauty abounds and people and stories get redeemed in every today we’re given;

that you know you are beloved before you even begin and your worth isn’t dependent on doing anything;

that you can look back on the story of your life so far and see the beauty and love in that story;

that you can remember your good choices and let those empower you to know the wisdom you carry and to keep moving forward;

and that you know you ain’t seen nothing yet. The future is wide open for you to take all your dreams and walk into the future with wonder and curiosity.

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The Patience of Ordinary Things, by Pat Schneider

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?