This week, for the first time since moving in 2000, I've been back on the shoreline of Connecticut where Dick and I lived off and on from 1985-1999. I was there to meet with my Covenant Group at the Mercy Center in Madison. Then three of the six of us stayed on to participate in an Executive Presbyter Learning Community with nine other colleagues.

In between the two gatherings, I took time to go visit Dick's and my first home as a married couple on Whitfield Street, as well as the first home we actually owned on Graves Avenue. Both are located in Guilford, Connecticut.   There are a lot of memories attached to those two homes. I can't count the number of family dinners, holidays, church retreats (we could sleep eleven!), summer gatherings on the front porch, or trips to Mulberry Point for the dogs to run in the salt meadows. It was a joy to be back, although I was struck by how much I've grown spiritually as a result of leaving home to heed God's call.

True, not everyone needs to physically move to heed God's call. Yet in God's providence, the metaphor of making the journey our home became a physical embodiment for us as a family. I think God knew that we were a bit too settled, a tad too parochial. I loved our years on the Connecticut shoreline, but I have never regretted the journey that has brought us to Ohio.

Leaving Guilford (the place where we had envisioned Donnie growing up) and All Souls Parish (the church family where she was baptized) were the two hardest things we ever did. Yet, I look at the amazing young woman growing up before our very eyes and am struck by how God has used the journey to shape and form her in profound and wonderful ways. She is among the most adaptable of people I know. Her love of different cultures is born out of her experiences of living in different places. Her compassion for people, especially those struggling with transitions, is deep and real. She is not afraid of change or of those different from herself.

It got me thinking about the journey we share here in MVP to journey with Jesus to make disciples, nurture our faith, and serve the needs of the community. We are not called to be settlers but pilgrims. In the words of Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB, may God "Make of us a wondering, far-sighted, questioning, restless people. And give us the feet of pilgrims on this journey unfinished."

This time back on the shore line of Connecticut also has me thinking about the role memory plays in shaping vision.  What role do your memories play in informing your present life? Do they provide a foundation of joy or do they hold you in a place of regret? Ignatius of Loyola believes that the greatest of sins is the sin of ingratitude for all God's blessings: past, present, and future. Is your attachment to the past getting in the way of your receiving the gift of the present moment? Are your memories tethered to a certain season of your life or do they run deeper into the mystery that each one of us is fearfully and wonderfully made (c.f., Psalm 139)?

I am reminded of the prayer from an anonymous Confederate soldier:

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,

I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey...

I asked for health, that I might do greater things,

I was given infirmity, that I might do better things...

I asked for riches, that I might be happy,

I was given poverty, that I might be wise...

I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men,

I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God...

I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,

I was given life, that I might enjoy all things...

I got nothing that I asked for -

but everything that I had hoped for,

Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.

I am among all men most richly blessed.

Perhaps the philosopher Kierkegaard said it best: "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards." May we understand, but may we also live forward into the place of God's blessing!