Into the Unknown...

One of our pandemic practices is Friday night pizza and movie night. We’ve experimented a bit with pizza – various homemade recipes, occasional splurge on Andrea’s once they re-opened and most often Take and Bake from Aldi. And we’ve had to tweak our movie selection process too – a few months ago we gave up on trying to agree on a movie each week and now each person takes turns selecting, with parents having some veto power.

Frozen 2 has become in some ways our theme movie for the pandemic, with it’s song ‘Into the Unknown’ and wise words from Anna: “do the next right thing.” (We also frequently joke that when we can gather again for worship, we’re going to need to do a spoof of the song ‘For the first time in forever’ from Frozen 1.) It strikes me this week that we are still very much headed into the unknown, and that doing the next right thing is still very wise counsel.

Most days, I’m fine. I’m an introvert, I don’t mind working from home, though I miss my lovely office. I have some friends I meet regularly for walks, I make regular phone calls, I see many of you on zoom each week. My world is small, but it’s ok. And then there are the other days, where I so desperately long to see people in person, without masks, to be able to hug people outside of my immediate family, to be able to sing with you all again in our sanctuary. I miss church. I miss you all. And there are signs of hope with more and more people getting vaccinated, but there’s still so much that’s unknown. And sometimes it is just really hard.

Two weeks ago, when we spent a few days up north, we did some cross-country skiing and snowshoeing. I did the snowshoeing, and the conditions were such that it was way more of a workout than I was anticipating. There was about a foot of snow and with each step my snowshoe would sink about 8 inches into the snow, and then with the next step I would be lifting a snowshoe covered in 8 inches of snow to make the next step. Jay and the kids on their skis were gliding effortlessly and would stop every so often to wait for me as I plodded along. Some days feel like that kind of plodding, that kind of huge effort with each step to keep going, to keep doing the next right thing. All of the grief, all of the effort it takes to keep connecting, all of the daily decisions that still need so much evaluation and negotiation – what are the risks involved? It’s a lot, and we’ve been doing it for a long time.

Lately I’ve been finding myself drawn to books about pilgrimage. Partly I think, because these books describe other places and it’s sort of an escape to read about other people’s travels. But also I think, because there’s a sense with pilgrimage of traveling into the unknown one step at a time, of allowing things to unfold while faithfully doing the next right thing. I remember reading a while ago that a pilgrim is one who travels trustingly, expectantly, looking for God along the way. I want to travel that way – trustingly, expectantly, looking for God along the way – on the days when it feels like I am plodding along in my snowshoes and on the days when it feels more like gliding on skis.

And I hope that for all of us, as we continue to move into the unknown, as we continue to do the next right thing, we can do so trustingly, expectantly, looking for God along the way.