A Letter from Lindy May 25

Hello Pilgrims,

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. 

There are many of Jesus’ invitations about which I feel challenged, but these days none more so than the above when he asks us to not let our hearts be troubled, to not let them be afraid. Troubled and afraid seem to be my operating system these days for a host of reasons–-global, national, communal, personal, take your pick. My internal conversation partner harangues me to get a grip.

I read an article that encapsulates how I feel of late. A word derived from the beloved children’s book, Strega Nona. Like the endless bowls of pasta that ultimately flood the town, I feel at times unable to stop consuming the bottomless well of mushy informational slop. And there’s the word–slop. Slop’s current definition goes beyond information to the fast and casual aspect of….well, just about everything we consume–-food, clothing, art. But information is where slop shows up in my life.  Not that breaking news isn’t worth my attention, but every alert does not need to be one, nor grab my attention. During pandemic, we called it doom-scrolling– sliding deeper and deeper into that which horrifically grabbed our attention, yet learning nothing new with each swipe. This year the ubiquity of content, expanding as quickly as AI can generate it, is not unlike Oliver Twist’s gruel. And people are taking notice of the firm grip it has on our routines, wanting to break the cycle.

I’ve been trying to actively push against my ceaseless tide. Grateful for Pilgrim’s offerings of mental health movements that nurture. Replenishing those with new practices is also always a good thing.

One of the litmus tests my mom taught me about the state of my mental health was whether I was picking up works of fiction regularly. In my family, not getting lost in a book daily is a sure sign that depression nips at your heels. So I’m leaning in even when my tired brain would rather tune out to stupid TikTok videos. 

A past Wood practice was home-cooking. We laid the foundation in our nascent marriage by teaching each other new dishes, no matter the lateness of our return from our respective offices. We took turns, chef and sous, standing together in our tiny kitchen, glass of wine in hand, sharing stories from our day. So, if I’m not planning and prepping a meal, I know to pay attention. 

Another idea I’ve just begun comes from the NY Times, stretching the imagination and flexing the brain. I’m behind, but this week, I leaned into the Book Review’s challenge to learn a piece of poetry by memory. They have long completed their challenge, and I’m just getting started, but how refreshing to hear various notables reciting the same piece of poetry before I take a stab at their memory game. Yes, I’m on my phone or tablet, but a much better distraction.

I’d love to hear the ways in which you are caring for your troubled hearts (if you have them) so I can learn new practices. Curiosity is most definitely a cure. As are good things that happen along the way–-both big and small. One lovely happening was the laying of new carpet for our Sunday School room this week. Much like the refreshed painting of the fellowship hall, seeing the ways in which we are caring for present and future Pilgrims makes my heart happy.

Can’t wait for you to check it out!

Pastor Lindy

(she/her) Pronouns matter

Art: I give you thanks, O Lord, with my whole heart.
Hand-made silk paper with beads, yarn, and glitter embedded.

 By: Sue Carroll, Art2liftspirits.com