Aren’t you amazed by how quickly life changes? For those of you who read last week’s reflection, you know I commented on how my landlord and I were preparing to possibly evacuate either voluntarily or mandatorily due to the wildfires. I also wrote about helping an elderly woman declutter her home when she discovered her camper was stolen. The wildfires were an ongoing ordeal, which I’ll tell you more about in a moment.
The police found the stolen camper stuck in a parking garage. I took her to retrieve it, calmed her down during the understandably stressful ordeal, and she called later that night to ask me to dinner as a way of thanking me. That certainly was kind but unnecessary. A few days later she called again and told me she was angry that I filed her papers alphabetically, and I should know better. I was, therefore, no longer in her employ. Ok. Her choice.
Back to the fires. Kim and Colton Liebrand live a few miles from us in a safe area and came to help load my landlord’s car and trailer, which they then parked safely at their house. Another packed vehicle was parked at Ali Eleam’s in town, again giving us reassurance that it would be safe. Several other members of our congregation made generous offers of hospitality to us, virtual strangers. We are overwhelmed, and my landlord, especially, who has no connection to our church whatsoever, was astonished that you would welcome him, a complete stranger, into your midst.
The people we stayed with when we voluntarily evacuated are dear friends from my former parish in Windsor. She was the chair of my search committee. She came to Minnesota in a blizzard after I broke my leg, drove me across country in my manual transmission SUV and my dog(!) and I stayed with her and her husband for three months while I healed. Diane is an extraordinary hostess and welcomes guests at the drop of a dime.
While we were there during the evacuation, she went to a routine doctor’s appointment and tripped on the curb. She fell flat on her face. Fortunately, she didn’t break anything, but she had a dangerous concussion. We immediately went back home. Although we were still under voluntary evacuation, the smoke and high heat made staying home very difficult. Soon, mandatory evacuation was ordered and another former parishioner offered to house us.
Even though my landlord did not know them, they became fast friends. I was very relieved because I still needed to prepare to preach on Aug. 4th. Although I have been ordained nearly 40 years, and Pastor Thandiwe and I discussed how last Sunday’s worship service would be, I have never written a sermon without at least an electric typewriter. Usually, by this point in my career, my manuscript is at best, a simple outline, if I use notes at all. I’ve been around the block enough times that if asked to, I can substitute for a colleague without much notice, and then I preach off the cuff.
So, why was I such a basket case last week? Regardless of what it may have appeared to be the case to those of you who were present, what you didn’t see was my sermon was a fully written manuscript (which I haven’t done in decades) in pencil on notebook paper. Although I had my laptop with me all week, I didn’t have access to the various biblical websites I rely on for research, and I didn’t have a printer. I felt like I was writing one of my first sermons back in seminary.
During all of our moving back and forth, I remembered to bring a suit bag with my pulpit gowns, but not the one with my dress clothes. My pulpit gown would have been less wrinkled if I slept in it, despite attempts to unwrinkle it at the last minute. I wore it anyway because the few street clothes I had looked worse than my pajamas. Besides, it covered my shaking knees. Hair dryer? Curling iron? Makeup? None.
Life changed very quickly throughout the days of the past week, both for others and for me. We can never expect the unexpected. Yet, we can cope with what we don’t know will come our way, can’t we?
I’ve long had a prayer on my mirror that I read daily. It helps me cope with life’s eventualities, large and small. I hope you will find comfort in it, too:
LORD,
Help me to remember
that nothing is going to happen
to me today
that you and I together
can’t handle.
Amen.
In faith,
Elizabeth Endicott
