I was in Houston after Hurricane Katrina, when over 200,000 evacuees from Louisiana poured into the city, many of them sheltering in the Astrodome. They were traumatized from all that they had experienced and seen. Counselors, clergy, and other volunteers were coached that what was most needed was for the evacuees to be able to tell their stories, and for those of us not directly affected to listen.

Four years ago, a “hurricane” swept the entire globe, in the form of the novel coronavirus-19. This was a trauma event, but there has been no organized way to tell our stories, partially because the pandemic has not had a clear end, and primarily because there was no one not directly affected. Is it any wonder that we haven’t really been able to move forward, and that we are still carrying our unprocessed emotions from this time? (And the emotions are such a mix … including some good things.)

This Sunday, it’s time to tell our stories. Our worship service and faith development hour are going to provide myriad ways to sort through some of that, share some of our experiences, and witness all that we’ve carried. There will also be a little lagniappe to honor our collective and individual resilience.

It is also the start of Daylight Savings Time, when we lose an hour, so Chris Jarman is bribing, er, I mean, coordinating a pancake breakfast for before the service. (Starting off with some comfort food is a great beginning to the day!)

See you Sunday!