Of endings and new beginnings

Today was my last day at work at Episcopal Community Services. When I began there on April 24, 2000, I was a newlywed (not quite 8 months in), my children were in high school, and I was working as a part-time church musician. George W. Bush was elected (or should I say appointed) president that fall. September 11th took place in my second year on a vividly blue-skied Tuesday morning that I will never forget. Rachel went off to college and graduated in 4 years. Seth turned in some extraordinary performances, went off to NYU, and, sadly, began his struggle with depression. So much has changed in these 10 years.

One thing that hasn't changed is this vocational pursuit I've travelled for longer than I can remember. Even when I arrived at ECS, I felt as if this were simply the place God wanted me to be at that time, and I like to think that I've used my time well. The agency does wonderful work with the most vulnerable of the brothers and sisters in our community. I've learned so much about the social services environment and living out our baptismal covenant in our day-to-day lives. And mostly I've learned in a very real and tangible way that every person is necessary to the success of our community, whether at work or in the neighborhood and beyond. I think that one of the staff persons at ECS St. Barnabas Mission said it best at my farewell party today. He said that when he arrived, was so excited to come to the main office to see the 'big shots,' but when he got there he realized that we were just family. I think that's what Jesus meant by the one body in which we all have a part.

And now, the new adventure begins. This weekend, Tim will help me set up my New Haven apartment, and we'll take a week in the Poconos with the dogs. Before I know it, classes will begin at Yale Divinity School, and ECS and all its people will fade into the fabric of my life. This isn't a bad thing, though. Every strand of that fabric, beautiful and ugly alike, helped to create the person I am, and if I wanted to pull out those threads that were shameful or painful or difficult, it would ruin the pattern that God has wrought in me. The pattern may not be perfect, but then, neither am I.