Comings and Goings

Sunday was busy, with the Baptism of Margaret Grace Whitley, and the Farewell to Cary Ragland and Anne Sweetman as they both move away, and a poignant announcement of Katie Weiss' death. Not surprisingly, I drifted off into some scripture after I got home, pondering beginnings and endings, and other transitions.

I went home to resume packing, as I am moving in a week to West Point to be closer to family and to enjoy my expanding wealth of great grandchildren. This does not mean that I am leaving St Andrew's, but it does mean I am leaving Hilton Village, where I have spent most of the last 60 years.

In Psalm 90, the Song of Moses, the psalmist ponders when God will stop punishing his people, thought by some scholars to be based on a song sung during the 40 years the Israelites wandered the wilderness.  "The days of our lives are three score and ten; and if by reason of strength they be four score years, yet is their strength labor and sorrows, for it is soon cut off, and we fly away"

In the gospel of John, it is written: (Jesus said) "Truly, truly I tell you, when you were young, you dressed yourself and walked where you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."

So, at three score and nine years, it is my calling to be with my family, and maybe even retire. My strength has been labor (which I have loved) and some sorrow, the sorrow we all share when we lose people we love. I am not yet at the stage where I need someone to dress me with the beloved people who I have not lived near since each of them went off to college, and I went into the ministry.

I will be living in a one-story house at the beginning of the lane where my daughter Sibby and her husband Len live, 15 miles from the great grands in Saluda, and about a half hour drive from my son Joe and his family in Hanover. I will continue to serve St Andrew's as I am able and useful.

I am not flying away, yet. See you in a week or two.
— Kathy Gray