Send love. It matters.
Those two sentences are repeated several times in a poem by Carrie Newcomer that was read aloud yesterday at our morning meditation. (Tuesdays during Lent, we gather at 7:30am in the sanctuary for 30-45 minutes of prayer and silent meditation.) The poem gives examples of people who are hurting, struggling, dealing with pain in some form or another. Like those examples and the point Newcomer makes with each of them, everyone carries heavy burdens at some point or another. So, send love to them. Cover them in prayer. Hold them in the light as our Quaker siblings in the faith say. It matters.
In our conversation after silent meditation, someone in our circle shared a story from a recent Friday at our food distribution ministry. (The weekly drive-thru food pantry provides groceries to hundreds of households in need thanks to provisions from the Brazos Valley Food Bank and volunteer workers from our congregation and Peace Lutheran Church.) When a Spanish-speaking family came through the line, a volunteer gave them a piece of paper with information on it about “Know Your Rights” trainings, and what to do if ICE agents approached them. The family’s faces lit up with gratitude. A simple act of love. It mattered.
That story gave way to more testimonies shared in our prayer circle about the importance of simple conversations and deeds of loving kindness. They matter.
While we gave witness to the importance of sending love to one another, my attention kept coming back to the candles we gathered around. At the start of our time together, we were invited to share a prayer by lighting a candle and placing it in a shallow bowl of sand. The candles are long and thin, not sturdy, and are quick to fall over. But somehow, even if they are leaning a bit, they stay upright in that sand.
A grain of sand is so small. By itself, it can’t do much. But packed together, those tiny specks can hold up however many candles, however many prayers, however many loving pleas for healing that we place in them. I couldn’t help thinking that while the candles represent the love we send, the sand is us. Like the body of Christ composed of many members, we are the grains of sand who need one another to make sure our prayers hold up, stand tall, stay burning. And those prayers we hold up keep on replenishing each grain of sand with its individual burdens. It was a spiritual ecosystem, where the love shining atop each delicate candle nourished the small grains of sand, helping them continue holding the light.
Someone you know is hurting. Someone you don’t know is struggling. The whole world is dealing with pain. So, send love. It matters.
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