“Hold on to the wings of the Spirit and see where she takes you”. This was the phrase given to me today by my spiritual director and I find myself using it over and over again. Yes, hold on tight to her wings and trust the journey. Let’s just see where retirement takes me.
As I thought about that phrase of holding on to the Spirit’s wings I couldn’t help but think about Gus, a man whose memorial service I led two years ago. Gus’ wife, Wendy, wrote this for his memorial bulletin, “Gus had a kid-like wonder at nature and the world, with a warm heart for every lost or stray dog in the world — taking in even the most sorry of creatures and caring for them”. At the service she did a children’s moment where she spoke of his care for all creatures and people. She told us how he always carried dog biscuits and chocolate kisses in his pockets, gifts for the four and two legged creatures he would meet throughout his day. And then she gave everyone a small gauze bag with dog treats and kisses, so we could do the same.
Gus’ friend, Mara, also spoke at the service. She told the story of how Gus had recently visited her and when he came in to her house he was carrying a pigeon he had found on the side of the road. The bird had been stunned and he had carefully wrapped her in a blanket. Gus told Mara to keep the pigeon warm and he would be back to check on her. “Okay, but don’t be gone long”, she said. Gus took off, and wouldn’t you know it, within two hours the pigeon was up hopping around. Mara had to call Gus to come back and get his bird. The really crazy thing was that as she was telling this story, a pigeon sat on the outside ledge of a window at the front of the church just to the left of where Mara was speaking. Everyone in the sanctuary could see the grey and white bird the whole time she told her story. The Spirit was so very present. We could hold on to her wings trusting where Gus had gone.
I closed the service that day with the words of Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things”
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world and am free.
May it be so for each of us as we hold on to the Spirit’s wings and trust where she takes us.
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