Rejoice! Again I say, Rejoice!

Rejoice!  Again I say, Rejoice!

Endings are hard.  They are much more difficult than beginnings.  It is easier to start relationships or projects or new jobs than to finish them—that is one of the reasons we procrastinate so much or stay in relationships even when they are unhealthy or make us unhappy.  I wonder if that is because we don’t want to let go, or dancing with the devil you know is easier than dancing with a devil you don’t know, or is it simply fear of the unknown.  Whatever the reason, being in the midst of something—even when it is broken—seems easier than letting go. 

This past week, I’ve had to work hard on letting go.  You would think that just loosening your grip would be such an easy thing to do, but its not.  It means coming to terms with the reality that something you have spent a lot of time and energy and come to care deeply about has now ended.  Its been hard to let go of Holy Cross Episcopal School.  The school, its faculty, students and families, clergy and supporters have been a big part of my life and experience since arriving in Montgomery six years ago.  My heart aches for what was, what is, and what could have been.  I’ve seen the lives of children changed for the better—children who were lost and needed nourishment and care, withering at the schools they had been planted, were transplanted to Holy Cross and bloomed!  I’ve heard countless stories of what Holy Cross has meant to so many who have crossed her threshold.  My life and the life of this community has diminished a little in her loss.

As Christians we know that endings are never what they seem.  Our faith is built on that.  The death of Jesus Christ is not an ending, though in the moment it feels like such.  But we have the privilege of knowing the rest of the story—Jesus’s death is not the end, instead we know of his resurrection and ascension and his sending of the Holy Spirit to be with us and inspire us in the work God calls us to do.  In life, we don’t always have the privilege of seeing what happens next when we are in the midst of our own experiences of endings—but our faith promises us that there is more.  Endings can bring fear and fear is never our friend.  Faith brings hope even in the face of mystery and the unknown.

I don’t know what will happen next with Holy Cross.  There are a thousand possibilities and no answers right now.  Instead, in the midst of an ending, I grieve and worry but I don’t allow my anxieties to dictate the day.  Instead I turn my tears and concerns to the Lord and trust in his never-failing grace that there will be a path forward, that all the unknowns are in his care, and that his purposes will always win the day. 

Holy Cross is no longer an Episcopal school on Bell Road.  But the community of love that it generated still exists and stands for something deeply entrenched in who we are as Episcopalians.  I give thanks to all those who have supported Holy Cross over the years and the transformation of young lives that she has offered so many.  Holy Cross was a dream that became a reality: an example of the offering and sacrifice we are reminded to give to God.  In that regards and for her love and support of Holy Cross, I give thanks for Harold Nicrosi whose vision and joy was profound in the many years of Holy Cross’s work and ministry in the lives of so many.  As Harold so faithfully put it, she rejoices in the twenty years Holy Cross existed as part of the Kingdom of God.