Making Space 

I am writing to you from the marsh this morning—my quiet place I don’t visit enough. I left Jay and the kiddos behind for two days of quiet, which came with mixed feelings. 

On the one hand, I knew I needed to get someplace quiet to finish a class I started last year—an online course meant to help me better support our staff. That matters deeply to me. But online classes are hard when I prefer giving my attention to real-time people and real-time needs. The quiet, of course, is also just good for my soul. 

On the other hand, I feel mom-guilt any time I leave my family—especially when I know this is one of only two weekends in January when we’ll all be in town together. 

As I drove out of town, a friend sent me a podcast interview with James Clear. I read Clear’s book Atomic Habits years ago—and by “read,” I mean I listened to it while walking up and down the hills of our Atlanta neighborhood as the sun set. 

When the kids were younger, we had an evening routine: I handled bath time and pajamas while Jay cleaned the kitchen. Then Jay and the kids would pile onto the bunk bed to read together while I slipped out the front door for a walk. 

What we discovered was that the kids interacted differently with Jay when I left the house. They didn’t mean to—it was just that stage of life where Mom is the center of the universe. But when I left, their attention shifted. They leaned into Jay in a way they—and he—needed. 

Any time a teacher remarks on how well the kids read, I tell them Jay is the reason they love books. Night after night of chapter books with cliffhangers, poetry that made them laugh, questions that helped them remember where they left off or imagine what might come next—Jay was cultivating a love of story and imagination that will carry them through life. 

And strangely, my absence was part of the magic. 

So often we tell ourselves that faithfulness means being everywhere, doing everything, holding it all together. And it’s true—showing up is very often the greatest gift we can offer. 

But sometimes faithfulness looks like something quieter. Sometimes it looks like stepping back. Sometimes it looks like trusting that God is still at work even when we are not in the room. 

As this new year begins, I invite you to wonder where you might be called—not only to show up—but to make space. To leave the conversation, the role, or the familiar place long enough for another voice to emerge. 

Every person in our parish has something to share. Every person, of every age and stage, is called to lead, serve, and grow this community. And yet we cannot all speak at once or lead in the same way at the same time. The Body of Christ depends on both presence and release. 

Next month, four faithful servant leaders will step away from their roles on the Vestry so that four new voices may help us listen for where Jesus is calling us next. I ask you to join me in giving thanks for Dan, Wendy, Julie, and Mark—for their wisdom, their care, and their willingness to trust God with what comes next. Pray with me that their stepping aside will create space for something beautiful we do not yet fully see. 

And finally, pray for yourself. Ask where God might be inviting you to step into something new—or where God might be gently asking you to step back, trusting that your absence, too, can be holy ground. 

Because sometimes, making space is not a failure of faith—but an act of deep and generous trust. 

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