|
Dear Covenant Friends,
Last Friday afternoon, an exceptionally strong wind blew—and our tree fell. It was an Eastern larch, native to the northern United States and Canada. Judging by historical photos, it was planted less than ten feet from our home more than 100 years ago—or perhaps our home was built beside it for its shade. A sister larch still stands in our neighbor’s yard, having done its turn hosting children in its branches.
The larch has long been called a tree of traveling. The Algonquian word for it, “hackmatack,” means “wood for snowshoes.” Native Americans used its roots to sew birch bark canoes and its resin to seal them. European settlers found that this bog-born tree would not rot underwater and used its wood for shipbuilding.
It even accompanied some on their final journeys. Before the Civil War, town cemeteries were sometimes marked by a single larch. Every winter, it seemed to wither; every spring, it was rejuvenated, a symbol of resurrection.
My home office window looked out on the tree, and each year the wrens built a nest in the birdhouse hanging from its branches.
So perfect was the placement of the fall (away from our house and onto a vacant lot) that it seemed as if some giant had lifted it out of the ground and gently laid its 60-foot trunk over the driveway, crushing small trees and shrubs, resting on a vacant lot. Even the birdbath survived.
Our insurance man had this to say, “We cover losses from fire or lightning, explosion, riot or civil commotion, aircraft, vehicles, vandalism, malicious mischief or theft. Because the peril is listed as wind, I am unable to provide coverage for it.” No matter- it’s all cleaned up now thanks to friends and family.
Jesus described the life of the Spirit by saying, “The wind blows where it pleases”, and ever since then we have been trying to harness his words and limit the Spirit to something we can predict and control. Yet despite the mischief and commotion of this world, God’s Spirit is still active and alive—still moving, still surprising us, still beyond our control.
Perhaps the life of faith is less about predicting the wind and more about learning how to live within it—trusting that even when something (someone) beloved falls, God is not absent. The same Spirit that unsettles also sustains; the same wind that uproots also carries us forward.
May we be people who listen for its sound—who remain open, even in uncertainty, to the movement of God among us.
I hope to see you in church in these final weeks leading to Easter morn... and may the Spirit who moves like the wind steady your heart, lift your spirit, and carry you gently into the days ahead.
Grace and peace,
Pastor Jessie
pastor@covenantweb.org
March 19, 2026
| 
