It’s the Most Liminal Time of the Year…

It’s the Most Liminal Time of the Year…

Over the years, I’ve had to wrestle with some difficult newsletter articles. Times of war, or heartbreaking gun violence; natural disasters and distressing political events. I’m not sure I’ve ever had to wrangle my heart and ministry quite in this way before – at least, that’s how it feels. Still, the way to begin remains the same: facing the future, together. As a community. As a family of the heart.

I am big on the power of liminal times. In the days before my birthday, or here at the end of one year, as we pause on the cusp of the turning of the calendar, I believe in the value of taking some quiet time to reflect, alone and within spiritual community. It’s a chance to remember who we are. To ask if we are living our deepest values, and if not, where to adjust. It’s that opportunity to look ahead and decide how we intend to show up: what do we need to prepare, so that we are not overtaken by habit or circumstance, easily thrown off our best intentions or unable to hear clear direction from the small, still voice within. This is a time that invites introspection, and encourages thoughtful, grounded planning for living lives of meaning and purpose.

I know, from my own experience and from conversations with many people both in and outside the congregation, that these days feel especially fraught. It’s difficult to judge how to prepare for what’s coming. Here’s the thing: our forebrains are basically prediction machines. And in times as unclear and uncertain as these, they have a really hard time predicting what’s coming next, which creates a tension that ratchets anxiety right up – which we then deal with in a variety of ways. Some people are more easily moved to tears. Some find themselves short-tempered and cranky. Others check out hard – or worse, default to addictive behaviors. In general, it’s harder to be our best selves when we are overwhelmed with uncertainty. So if you find yourself having a harder time than usual, know that you’re not alone.

There is no magic cure for what ails us. And yet, here at the end of one year, on the precipice of what feels like a seachange in our democratic experiment, we still have all the same things we did last year: a community, built on enduring values. The beauty of the world, even when it’s been transformed by climate change. The salvific power of neighbors helping neighbors, and mutual aid. Our own hearts, minds, and hands, magnified when we turn them to common purpose. 

Now more than ever, please remember: you are not alone, and we, together, have the power to create sanctuary for those we love. In the days ahead, we will make manifest the power of sanctuary, as we UUs engage with Pink Haven (https://www.pinkhaven.org/) and pay close attention to what sanctuary means within the context of a hostile state, determined to inflict as much harm on those who have fled disaster in their home countries, dreaming of a safer harbor here in the US. We will contemplate sanctuary as the place of rest and recommitment that we build together each time we gather, bravely navigating the world to come – just as we have always done.

So here at the close of the year, we hope you will join us – for music, laughter at the Reader’s Theatre evening, as parents having a Night Out thanks to our youth, for grieving together at the When the Holidays Hurt service, to celebrate with joy at our family and all-ages services, and for our Christmas Eve concert and candlelight service. We will nurture our spirits, hold each other close, and holding hands, face the future together. 

See you at church –

With love,

Rev. Audette