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Drifting Home
I recently attended a family funeral in the Driftless Area of Wisconsin. As we laid my grandma’s little sister to rest, I couldn’t help but be struck by the beauty of the surrounding landscape. Missed by the glaciers that flattened most of the Midwest, these are the hills and prairies, rocks and rivers that inspired Frank Lloyd Wright, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and Aldo Leopold. In 1946 my great-grandfather Hubert donated a corner of his farm in Bear Valley to the Catholic Church to serve as a cemetery that now holds three generations of our family. Many of them were baptized, married, and buried on that same land.
As we gathered around Aunt Rose Mary’s grave, I noticed her son Dennis’ dates etched into their shared headstone: 1953–1990. An out gay man and victim of the AIDS epidemic, Dennis never really fit into life on the farm or his traditional Catholic upbringing. Though my family rarely talks about him, I’ve come to realize that he was a fish out of water in Bear Valley. He was colorful and flamboyant in ways that folks in his hometown found hard to understand. I wish I had known him, but it makes me glad to see his name etched into the stone between his parents. Despite how he might have complicated their rural life, they must have missed his presence every day, and I’m glad that they’re together again. In death they are reconciled.
As I take in the beauty of my soundings and ponder what this land has meant for my family, I’m reminded that even when we feel most adrift, beauty persists, love endures, and God’s grace is not far from view. This Sunday is sometimes referred to as Laetare or Rejoicing Sunday. Now more than halfway through Lent, we are called to remember our belief in the hope of the resurrection. In our music we’ll hear messages of hope, blessing, mercy, and love sprinkled in among the other Lenten themes. Together we’ll rejoice that God has called us to this journey of redemption and that ultimately, we’ll all return home to God.
A Prayer for the Driftless
Loving God, in moments of uncertainty, when the ground beneath feels unsteady and the path ahead unclear, guide us to solid ground, that we may no longer feel adrift, but driftless — secure in your love and purpose.
Brent Erstad
Director of Music and Organist
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