Saying Goodbye

Yesterday was my last day at Warren Village. This girl on a mission will soon have a new mission. It has been a wonderfully exhausting, indescribably fulfilling two years. I know Beth, our new US-2, will carry on the work of the Village in a beautiful way. The hands that serve may change, but the serving remains.

I have been inspired by my residents, alums and co-workers. The Village people (ha, ha) have spoiled me the last two weeks with cakes and presents and go-away festivities. Still, it occurs to me that I can't just go away. No one ever really leaves Warren Village. It's a family. As a resident recently wrote, "It takes a village not only to raise a child...but to raise a person."

To close, I wanted to offer up the Prayer of Oscar Romero, written by Bishop Untener. I think it says what I want to say way better than I could say it:

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.

Amen.