May we be made strong

This is the view from my hotel room in Portland, on the morning of Martin Luther King Day, and these are the colors I love most in the world, in what seems to me like perfect balance -- which goes a long way toward explaining why that scarf could never have worked for me!

A colorful dawn seems an appropriate image to bring forth as we embark on this new chapter in our country's life. And I have to say, listening to our 44th president's inaugural speech yesterday -- the consistency of the ideals and values expressed, the complexity of the sentences, the confidence of the assertions, the respect for all races, religions, and nationalities and the determination to accept responsibility and move forward -- I feel, for the first time in an unconscionably long time, proud to be an American and filled with a sense that I am no longer alone in my beliefs.

As I pondered the inaugural address, and looked at this image, I could hear a voice in my head saying "May we be made strong;" a line from my CD of the Bainbridge women's compline choir. It kept repeating, so I googled it (isn't google amazing?) and found a pointer to a Lichfield Cathedral Festival Sermon, written by Catherine Fox for Sunday, 15 July 2007. The quote (I learned from the googling) is from Paul's letter to the Colossians, but what I loved was this penultimate paragraph of Catherine's sermon:

I’m thinking of the lowest ebb of the year, the end of January, dark at 4 in the afternoon, still dark at 8 in the morning, but then one day you hear it – the first stealthy tuning up of a blackbird on a rooftop, and you think Ah! Spring will come. It will come. And from then on part of you is always listening out for the song until finally it breaks forth in all its fullness.

Until that day comes, May we be made strong with all the strength that comes from this glorious power.

As we watched the parades continuing on into the cold January darkness of late afternoon, and as we watched the inauguration balls continue on into the evening, I know our new president and his wife must have been exhausted. But it seemed to me that their smiles of greeting never faltered; were always fresh and new and full of a joy that appeared to well up in them like "a spring of water gushing up to eternal life." (John 4:14)

There are surely more dark days ahead; we have not yet heard the blackbird's call. But those smiles remind me that the song is there, waiting to break forth. I pray that they and we can stay attuned to its promise, and remain tapped in to that source from which all blessings pour.

Amen.