What we need is here
Image by @coasteering_co_uk on Unsplash
I recorded Reed Loy, an Episcopal priest in New Hampshire, singing “What we need is here” at a clergy retreat years ago. (Here is a version led by Paul Vasile in a Music that Makes Community workshop.) This phrase, attributed to farmer Wendell Berry’s poetic brilliance, counters so much of what anxiety and fear have to offer us. It confronts my need to be in control of every possibility, every eventuality.
Michael Bleyenberg, a boisterous middle school friend, was a strapping boy with adorable, full, pink cheeks. He was growing into what many of the boys in my Dutch Christian Reformed agricultural community would become: a dairyman. Michael had a cheeky sense of humor. There was never a dull moment with Michael in class. He drove the teachers to distraction with his constant questioning, which always began: “yah, but what if...?” He was relentless!
Last night Papa fell in the bathroom. After settling him back into bed, Dave and I climbed the stairs from Nana and Papa’s basement cottage dwelling to our part of the house wondering: Yah, but what if…?
Yah, but what if he needs more help every day than my mom can physically offer?
Yah, but what if we find out at today’s appointment that the neurologist found something terrible in his EEG?
Take a deep breath. Pray. Listen to God. Seek wisdom rather than control.
What we need is here.
Just before Papa had the fall, I was on a call with church volunteers preparing to welcome a family of Afghan refugees into a home renovated for that purpose. Our volunteers are committed and intelligent, resourceful and caring. And it is challenging for us volunteers to feel ready to welcome a family about whom we have no information, other than they are refugees from Afghanistan. As required by Episcopal Migration Ministries & Sponsor Circles, we have a “Welcome Plan.” We have done all the things we have been directed to do and then some more things we thought of ourselves! The pantry is stocked with non-perishables. Cupboards hold paper products. A first aid kit is ready. There are clean sheets on the beds. It is a lovely home, ready for a family.
What we need is here, in the house already —and, in our hearts, ready to welcome and support.
Yah, but what if they speak absolutely no English at all?
Yah, but what if they have babies and we don’t have car seats when we meet them at the airport?
Take a deep breath. Pray. Listen to God. Seek wisdom rather than control.
What we need is here.
We have a lot of questions about the family and their needs, and we seek to answer all of those questions by being prepared with resources and contacts and next steps. It’s impossible to be as prepared as we want to be. There will be things we did not consider, questions we did not ask.
I’m working this morning on trust. Trusting God, trusting myself, trusting others.
Whether welcoming a family of refugees or welcoming the changing needs of an aging parent, trust paves the way forward.
Of course we will bring to bear the same resourcefulness in future moments that has gotten us to this moment. We can trust in a pattern of seeking what we need, and receiving the help of others who have the knowledge, experience, and bandwith to assist us. We can trust God to provide the wisdom, energy, and clarity needed to bravely face the eventualities yet unknown in every future moment of need.
What we need is here.
And, what we will need, will be here, when we need it.
