Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places—

Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ!

I want to be lifted up on butterfly wings.

The Rev. Dr. Mary Kuhns, Parish Associate for Pastoral Care, Presbyterian pastor, youth minister, chaplain, Associate for Justice for Women for the Presbyterian Church (USA), licensed therapist, teacher, inclusive language advocate, singer at nursing homes, lover of dogs and cars and people. Mary, who helped start the Young Adult Volunteer (YAV) Program, who sat at hospital bedsides and listened to our stories, and played the ukulele…

I could go on and on. You probably could as well. Mary died November 24th, after a somewhat brief illness and hospital stay. I would visit her on my way home from church and when I asked her what to tell folks, she would say “it’s a bad cancer but we don’t know how bad.” Yes, it was, and here we are, without Mary.

This is the first colleague of mine to pass away while serving on the same staff and I’m not sure what to do with that.

I guess we all need to figure it out. How in the world do we live in the world without Mary? Who do I call when I need some advice or ideas? How do we do pastoral care now? Might we all come together and take on Mary’s legacy and turn it into caring for each other, sitting by hospital bedsides, singing in nursing homes, listening to and telling stories? How do we do this now?

Too many questions, so I decided I might just sing for a while. Mary told me of her close friendship with Jane Parker Huber who has many hymns in our hymnal. Yes, I could do that. Then she lit up when we talked about ukuleles. Dare I take up the ukulele?

I’m still at a loss for words. Advent tells us this is OK. We can sit a while. Mull it over. Sit a while more. But still …

Will a prophet help? They did back in the day. They talked of God and God talked through them. I need some of that now. Malachi is on board this Sunday. His name means “my messenger” but it’s hard to hear prophets and their message. They know how to get deep inside a person or an institution or a wrong. Can they get inside of death and make some sense of it?

Maybe a butterfly can. Mary told me she wanted “On Eagles Wings” to be played at her service. Then she paused. “But I want to be lifted up on butterfly wings instead.” I’m not sure what she meant by this, but why not?

So, I sit this Advent missing Mary and think of prophets and butterflies and other cherished members of our congregation who have died over these past several months. I miss them all but also thank them for being saints in our world, and in my life.

And for lifting me up as if on butterfly wings.

Grace and peace,

Harry