Tonight we attended Mass at the church in Lake Jackson, where the Lord showed me my word of the year for 2022. The scaffolding is gone and the antennae tower stands tall outside of the window. I smiled when I realized what I was looking for outside of the window.
It may be the most unusual word I’ve ever had for my word of the year. And it may also be the most meaningful. Visual reminders throughout the past two years kept me seeking and quiet, trying to understand what He was showing me though scaffolding.
In Assisi – my very first overseas trip to Italy, the summer of 2022.
I kept the word in 2023, feeling that I still had much more to learn.
At our home parish – St. Philip the Apostle – on the day of Mary Alice’s first communion.
In New York, when we visited Julia.
And inside my parents’ home as they replaced their roof. A tornado sent a tree into my parent’s roof. They weren’t home. They were at my home watching my children while we were on our pilgrimage this summer to Belgium. Glass and drywall covered my mother’s recliner, but she wasn’t there. This incredibly practical word unfolded over the past two years into something poetic.
Scaffolding is to be temporary. It is not to be a replacement for permanence.
In Assisi, it was a kind reminder that our time away from home was fleeting but full of meaning and lessons and growth.
In New York, the scaffolding seemed to be a permanent part of everyday life. As if people were thankful that it kept them dry in the rain and shaded from the hot sun, offering a fast solution for the needs of those who lived there.
At our parish, it was the huge red bow placed on the church to remind me that Jesus was there with us. The scaffolding was a very loud ‘hello’ from Heaven, celebrating the Eucharist and our community.
At my parents’ home, scaffolding became a reminder of God’s faithfulness after months of wrestling with the insurance company, sincerely wondering if my parents would ever have a new roof again. The presence of scaffolding signaled that what the tornado destroyed would become new in His time.
Strong and sturdy, straight and purposeful.
Are we to become scaffolding? Are we going to be the ones who support each other temporarily while we rebuild?
When grief comes spilling out and we cannot stand.
When we reach the end of our paycheck and we search for a way to fill our car with gas.
When our bodies need mending and we are suddenly unable.
We our mind fills with worry and we can’t see when it will ever be okay.
When we question why we are here and what we believe.
In these times, I pray you have a friend that steps in and becomes your scaffolding. I pray you have the faith to be salt and light in the dark times.
