by Joanie Butman
A friend sent me a box of pears for Christmas from a well-known vendor. To my surprise, the pears looked a little worse for wear. So much so that the company included a note of explanation for their condition. They called them ‘wind-scarred pears.’ The obvious blemishes (aka wind scars) are the result of high winds whipping tree branches and causing abrasions to the skin of our delicate pears. The winds that scarred those pears were the same ones responsible for the devastating fires in Oregon. The company puts a positive take on the battered pears: “These scars are a reminder of what our community has been through and how we’ve rallied to support one another. The untouched juicy, delicious interior of the pear demonstrates – it’s what’s inside that counts.” I couldn’t agree more. They tasted great.
‘Wind-scarred’ might describe what many people are feeling these days – bruised and battered by the tornado of current events over the past year. The fragile façade of our nation was shattered. The band aid’s been ripped off, leaving an open wound in need of healing. And I can’t think of a better way to begin that process than with Amanda Gorman’s heartfelt poem she shared on Wednesday. It was the perfect segue into an era of reconciliation, redemption, reparation and recovery. The future she describes is one we can all embrace regardless of political affiliation. “We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised, but whole; benevolent, but bold; fierce and free.” And just like those pears I received - battered and beautiful.
Gorman begins and ends with a call for light. Timely, as we just celebrated the arrival of the Light of the World. The light of life that Christ brought into the world so long ago is one that can’t be extinguished as the apostle John explains, “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Our mission (should we choose to accept it) is to keep that light burning brightly in our own lives so that we can shine it into the lives of others. In order to accomplish this, we have to appropriate it ourselves first. We can’t share what we don’t have. The poet concludes with, “For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.” The thing about light is that it reveals all – especially those things we like to keep hidden, which is why Amanda suggests that it’s an act of courage.
What we’ve seen surface this past week is the desire to reconnect to who we are as a people and a nation. To view our collective scars as lessons we are intended to learn from. We’ve emerged weathered but resilient, looking forward with renewed hope to a future where our light is love and a beacon for all. That’s the legacy we're all called to leave. I will close with the lyrics of one of my favorite songs by Robin Mark because he says it better than I ever could.
When it's all been said and done
There is just one thing that matters
Did I do my best to live for truth?
Did I live my life for you?
When it's all been said and done
All my treasures will mean nothing
Only what I have done
For love's rewards
Will stand the test of time