The Hopeful Resistance of the Table: A Year of Shared Life and Sacred Practice
The world outside is a heavy shroud, dark with terror and the weight of fear. We see the shadows lengthening over our neighbors—the immigrant, the marginalized, those standing beside us in the storm. Our hearts drift toward the edges of dark pits, sometimes choosing the silence of disconnection, just to let our nervous systems breathe. We cry out for justice, or sometimes, we simply cry, “Lord, have mercy.”
And when the weight is too much, we process, we walk-cry, we sing-breathe, we grieve. We find manna in the ancient songs of the Psalms, resting in the knowledge that even in the vastness, God bears witness to the weight of a single tear.
But fear is a foe we refuse to battle alone. We transform trauma through firm, tangible commitments: we march in peaceful protests, we give what we have, we speak for the silenced, and we stand as witnesses in the halls of law. We pray with our hearts, our feet, and our voices. And, we gather.
We break bread not for hunger alone, but as a quiet, radical defiance. In every shared dish, we weave a tapestry of solidarity, reaching across the tables in this room, and rooms like it across the country. Solidarity is the act of reaching out, bearing witness to our shared experiences and our commitment to dignity, mercy, and justice. This potluck is our sanctuary—a feast of unexpected flavors and culinary conviviality (thank you, Father Matt) where the act of receiving is as holy as the act of giving. Amidst the hum of conversation and the grace of listening, we bow our heads to the Giver of the gift of sustenance.
We find the shift in the smallest turn of dirt, in the micro-rhythms of the hand: the tilling, the planting, the quiet drink of water. Here, we are anchored in steady, rooted ways, finding that hope is a personal action— a seed pressed firmly into the dark soil of life and heart.
If love can conquer the quiet war inside me, it might eventually win for everyone. For love is not a mere feeling, but a power that reshapes the world.
So let us stir the embers in each other, provoking a kindness that rumbles into change. Let our days be a seamless thread of prayer, hope, and joy— interrupted only by the necessary surrender of sleep.
….We live sacred rhythms, where the ordinary becomes holy: we encounter, embody and extend; gather, share, and pray. And we can celebrate and remember this past year marked by vibrant celebrations, communal gatherings, personal challenges, and everyday normalities that remind us we belong:
Our Library, buying local, little pantry, the many repairs—bathroom wall heaters, toilets, plumbing, lights, parking lot, cleaning days, new permanent signs, new audio / live stream system, relocation of bats, sharing resources, gently used furniture, stuff that is free to a good home!
We shared birthdays, anniversaries, travel, new members, newborns, and big moments during our services. We celebrated our first-ever Table wedding for Nathan and Drew.
We enjoyed the energy of the Summer Bible reading challenge, Back to School Carnival, and laughed as we watched Ben and Matt perform the Chicken Dance, accompanied by Larry’s accordion, Backpack blessings, and art-making for the love of God.
We experienced Epiphany House Blessings, revisited Pizza Wars, discussed the Enneagram, shared recipes and favorite books, and participated in weekly Passing the Peace and Community Blessings. We thank our spiritual directors for being contemplative companions to many.
We delighted in the Lorax (Leah McMichael), Good Lord Rose, Eucharist bread, Coffee, donuts, baked goods, Falcon Creek farm and field therapy, Asset Mapping, and prayer walking our building and perimeter.
We learned about the climate crisis, hurricane devastation, war, wildfires, protests, calling state representatives, ICE, and the elimination of DEIJ.
We are grateful for the dedication of our many volunteers. More volunteers are always welcome. We are thankful for Peter Kyle, our administrator extraordinaire.
We rejoice in our incredible children and young people. The life and vibrancy you bring to this community keeps us humble and growing and helps us love you and know you.
We bade a fond farewell to the Ruark family, Lauren Easterling, the Donohos, and Hazel-Grace. And we welcomed Bishop Jennifer for a Sunday service.
We remain mindful and prayerful for those undergoing job searches. We continue to hold space for those navigating neurodegenerative conditions, chronic pain, surgeries, ER visits, more surgeries, caring for elderly parents, cancer diagnoses, a wide range of mental health conditions, new debilitating diagnoses, respiratory illnesses, and disabilities. We remember those who have experienced the loss of family members.
We have experienced a lot, seen a lot, and loved a lot. We are becoming a more resilient people, learning to adapt in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats, and significant sources of stress. Resilience is empowering us toward profound personal and collective growth.
The penultimate thought (thank you Father Ben) of my Sr. Warden sign-off is to say, thank you to Father Ben and Father Matt. These men are committed to developing a healthy church. You accomplish this through your consistent values, convictions, commitments, and habits. You are outward-focused and missional; you maintain sabbath rhythms, lead by serving, you are collaborative and community-oriented. You encourage people and make room for people to serve according to their gifts. The observable outcomes are visible in transformed lives, spiritual growth, and a robust intergenerational presence. Thank you!
May the Table remain a place of beauty, nature, justice, and goodness. May we maintain a sense of humor, joy, and laughter. And may we remain a hope-filled and loving people, embracing the internal work of God’s spirit through our connected discipleship around all kinds of tables. The peace of the Lord be with you always….
Donna Romack
