Pilgrimage to Tennessee

I'm on my annual pilgrimage to East Tennessee. The chill of fall is in the air, but the grass is still green and soft underfoot. A few leaves have turned to red and orange; a few others have already fallen to the ground. Mostly, though, it's green and lush. These mountains are soft, settled mountains, cloaked in green. Dusty fog rises from them in the evening. No, I'm not quite in the Smoky Mountains here, but they're not far away.

It's a place of beauty and of calm. Because I no longer live here, my days are filled with sweet reunions with friends with whom I grew into adulthood and other friends who have watched me grow into adulthood. There are long breakfasts that turn into lunch, then afternoon coffee, and dinner with yet someone else. This weekend, I celebrated a friend's wedding in the waning light of the day. In this place, there are even a few unexpected reunions; those reunions are every bit as sweet as the planned ones.

The laughter here is plentiful; often, the tears are as well. We have the conversations that can't be held over the phone. We exchange hugs that can't be offered again for many months. These are people with whom I once shared my daily life. I still miss that familiarity. There's a bit of sadness that our lives have moved us apart from each other. Here, there's more of home than anywhere else, at least for me.

I cannot stop giving thanks for this God-breathed place and these God-breathed people. There is a deep, rich holiness here. The whole of this place is the bridge between my different worlds. If all goes as planned, I'll be here next year, around the same time, enjoying the richness once again.

I also know that part of the beauty and richness of this place is because I only get to be here a few days a year. The quick glimpse makes this place seem much closer to perfect than it would if I lived here. It also is a glimpse of the Church at its best.

Soon, I'll return to Arizona, to a place and a congregation I love, too. I wonder if this glimpse could teach me how to better live the day to day. Or better yet, how to better be Church in the day to day.

How can Church be calm instead of chaos?

How can Church slow down time? Not in a return to 1960 kind of way, but in an unhurried, another accounting system kind of way?

How can Church be more of home than anything else?

How can Church be as abundant as this place?