Last night was always going to be special. As the evening unfolded, a curiosity within me began to build as I wondered what was going to make it special. I thought I had no ability or reason to know idea what special was in advance. I waited, expectantly wondering.
In hindsight, I had all the clues. My ignorance was driven by my inability to image the impossible and, as a consequence, not looking behind the obvious. As the evening unfolded the theme of lost being found revealed itself. We rediscovered what we knew but had let slip away. We remembered what makes us what we are. We found ourselves reimagining our stories and shared story.
The loss of the physical can be dramatic as well as quietly forgotten. In this case, a symbolic silver bowl that has been with the community before anyone can remember had slipped into obscurity. Nobody knew when and where. What we do know is that there was a growing awareness that it was missing. There were search stories, but few knew for certain who had taken up the challenge. In the end, there was one who refused to believe. The belief of the one changed the conviction of the many.
The loss of relationship and harmony is one that I knew well. Although I was not a direct part of the beginning, I felt its touched and sensed its reach. Healing and restoring something this complex often takes time. As I watched, experienced, and shared in the work and rest with individuals that have been brothers in the best sense of the word, I realised we had collectively found what had been lost.
When the lost is found, it is a time to celebrate. Even as I look back, I find myself reminding everyone, “remember this! He led his people out singing for joy; his chosen people marched, singing their hearts out!” (Psalm 105.43) We lifted our glasses, hammered an anthem of friendship and commitment on the table, and laughed as one.
In compassionate filled harmony, Hope lives on.
