Meditation in the silent witness of our roots

Photo by K. Lynn Ronkainen

Photo by K. Lynn Ronkainen

Roots grown cruciform in the old churchyard,
stretching across hallowed ground
to generations resting there.
Families, family –
Susie, Granddaddy, Mama, Daddy, Frank.
Priest, teachers, friends –
Steve and Frances, Miss Rebecca, Teddy,
beloved of God,
in the silent witness of our roots.

Roots grown cruciform in the old churchyard,
stretching across hallowed ground
into the church building, fragrant with
lingering incense of ancient candle wax.
Light filtering gently through wavy panes where
yesterday, spring’s glory took away our breath.
Sighing deeply, pausing to remember,
hearts overflow,
in the silent witness of our roots.

Roots grown cruciform in the old churchyard,
stretching across hallowed ground
to the agony of slowest fracture,
as the Body, bone and sinew, came apart.
Tears of pain, rage, fear, deepest grief.
Abandoned in the company of others.
accepting that what has been,
no longer is,
in the silent witness of our roots.

Roots grown cruciform in the old churchyard,
stretching across hallowed ground
into new life emerging out of this death,
abundance brimming – faith, hope, joy.  Love.
The Body knitting together, broken places strong again,
becoming community God calls into being.
Christ’s Body, fresh infancy of yet unfolding generations,
Creation anew,
in the silent witness of our roots,

Thank, God,
Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer, forever with us
in, through, beyond the silent witness of our roots,
stretching across hallowed ground of life.
Amen.

— Virginia Cuthbert Wilder, The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Summerville, S.C.