I Know All is Well

From Pastor Sandy Niiler:

As I write this post, it is almost a year to the day since the April 27, 2011 tornadoes.  This past Wednesday, April 25, Pastor Don [Strandlund] and I stood in front of Bo’s new barbershop and the new Busy Bee Cafe.  As many know, that business area was destroyed by the tornadoes and has since been rebuilt and looks great!  We stood with others, waiting to greet and meet Governor Bentley.  The Governor has been busy touring Alabama towns and cities hit by last year’s deadly tornadoes.  Governor Bentley arrived in front of the café around 3:20 p.m. and was personally greeted by Colonel Cullman, the Mayor, and of course Bo, owner of the barbershop. 

As Governor Bentley stood in front of the rebuilt business district, he shared how he visited Cullman immediately following the tornadoes.  And now almost a year later Governor Bentley shared how pleased he was that Cullman was rebuilding and moving forward.  It was a nice talk, and a ribbon cutting ceremony followed the greetings and well wishes.  Governor Bentley then mingled and talked with those gathered.

I got to meet the Governor.  I pointed over to where our church used to stand.  Pastor Don handed me a copy of our architectural plans.  As I was about to share our plans, I began to tear up and could not talk.  Governor Bentley kept his arm around me and spoke for me.  Those who were standing nearby got quiet.  I guess the reality of sadness mixing with the joy of rebuilding came out.  Before I attended this event, I prayed for God to be with me and to show me what to do and say.  Little did I know that I would tear up.  Perhaps a few tears remind us that we are grateful for what we have, and that we are grateful for each other.  

I must add that several people came up afterwards and shared kind words.   As I left the event, I sighed and shook my head.  I said to myself, “Well, I guess the Governor will remember our church now.”  But more importantly, I know God loves and remembers our church, and we won’t take this for granted.  I know all is well.  

 (Photos courtesy Rev. Don Strandlund)

Dream of Life

It's been almost a year since April 27, and this is probably the toughest blog entry I've had to write.  I don't want to go back to that day.  Commemoration, remembrance, looking back:  I used to wonder why some veterans returning home from wars don't want to talk about their experiences in country.  Now I know.  When a part of you is forever destroyed, it's tough to talk.

But the purpose of this blog is to talk, to open up and share with you, our kind supporters, where we are in the rebuilding process, and what we're thinking, and where we're going, and who we're becoming.  So here goes.  And this time, I'm going to get a little help from a fantasy writer, a psalmist, and a rock star, because the task seems too big to handle by myself.

 

I shot this the day after the storms--a week after Easter 2011--through a glass door and out across the street to rubble, into an indigo blue sky.  The image captures what I'm feeling--and what I'm feeling, which is so hard to put into words, is Easter.  Easter:  Pain that brings joy.  Joy that is painful, because we know what hurt feels like.  Pain and joy, violence and grace, coupled in resurrection, a rising, that no one ever expects.  

 

In an essay on fantasy literature, writer J.R.R. Tolkien called this phenomenon 'eucatastrophe,' a 'sudden and miraculous grace,' one that 'does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure.'  For Tolkien, eucatastrophe 'denies...universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief' ('On Fairy Stories').

Flash forward to Easter 2012:  In our borrowed space at the Benedictine Monastery, we processed with the cross that had been bent in the storm.  

But we also flowered another cross.

Two weeks later, just this past Sunday, we concluded the prayers of the church with a reading of Psalm 130, which reads, in part,

I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,

and in his word I put my hope.

I wait for the Lord

more than watchmen wait for the morning,

more than watchmen wait for the morning.

And so here we are, one year later, poised somewhere between tragedy and joy, living in hope.  Sometimes we struggle in doubt.  Sometimes our grief comes flooding back.  Sometimes the future shines clear, shimmering like a cobalt-blue sky.  

 

In Easter 2012, we dream of life.

I said (above) that a rock star would help me write this post, so I'll close this installment with some Bruce Springsteen.  Not long after 9/11, Springsteen wrote 'The Rising,' a rock song with an Easter theme. You can watch it here:  Bruce Springsteen, 'The Rising,' Live, 2003.

Have a great Easter season, everyone!  You'll see more posts shortly, as we begin the bidding process and move to our groundbreaking.