Friends,

It is once again that season when so many of our neighbors, especially those serving in the military, start to move away.

Taking my boys to and from school may be my favorite part of the day, as long as we get to take the golf cart. This is perfect golf cart weather, and we lean into the season. This morning, we went over the stone bridge down W. Boulevard Dr. and into Waynewood, where we were met by several of those moving “pods” being stuffed by families with serious looks on their faces.

For the remainder of the short trip to Waynewood Elementary School, I had to endure a constant barrage of “why?”

“Dada, why are there so many of those boxes?”

“Those families are moving, and they are putting all of their stuff in that box so a truck can come pick it up.”

“Why are they moving?”

“They are probably in the military, and this is the time of year when they have to move.”

“Why is it just the military?”

“Well, I guess it’s because we don’t have a regimental system like the United Kingdom has, so the military moves people in the army every couple of years. They call it “PCSing.””

“Why?”

“To be honest, I don’t even know what most of those words I just said mean. I just know that I am going to miss them.”

My seven-year-old and three-year-old found this last response to be entirely lacking, but for me, it cut to the underlying issue. Moving is hard. It’s hard for the person who tells their family where they must move next. It’s hard for the families to get up and leave. It’s hard for the community that they are leaving behind. Moving is hard.

Growing up, there was always some move looming in the future, and now it doesn’t feel real that we could spend the rest of our lives in this neighborhood. The permanence that I feel in this place affects how I see our evangelism efforts and how we welcome people into St. Luke’s.

I have always tried to welcome people in earnest, enthusiastic, and creative ways, because I feel like it is an innately good thing to do. Now that I have been at St. Luke’s for five and a half years, I have welcomed many people into our Church. Nine out of twelve of our vestry members walked through our doors for the first time when I was your rector. When some came in for the first time, they may have gotten a fistful of Fr. Nick Bucks (remember when that was a thing?), welcome pickles, or just an enthusiastic welcome. In that moment, we had no idea if that would be our only meeting or if they would end up calling St. Luke’s their home.

Twenty-some years ago, the McPeek family walked through our doors for the first time, and next week, they are preparing to move to North Carolina. Today, most do not remember a time when they were not pouring their love and prayers into this place. Other families came much more recently and are getting a “permanent change of station” and are already on their way out.

Never dismiss who you meet in Church. They could be someone who is part of your community for a big chunk of your life, or they could be a bright spot in your life for just a couple of years. Either way, that person sitting in your typical Sunday morning pew matters and has the potential to change your life.

The Easter season is officially over, and we are on the cusp of entering “ordinary time”. We’ll hear all the stories that happen between the big stuff. The stuff that the disciples took for granted. It is the stuff that was anything but ordinary, and you’ll be sitting next to someone who is anything but ordinary.

Blessings,

Nick