by Kerry Williams
We all have our landing in Oz moments, don’t we? The starkest one I can remember was my first spring here in Bozeman. I made it through the winter, adjusting to the weeks of far below zero temperatures and learning to drive on the unplowed roads in my neighborhood. I came here from New England, so winter didn’t hold many surprises for me. Sure, there was more snow and cold, but there was also more sun, so it all balanced out, and I love winter sports so being right in the middle of all this skiing was great. I was dancing right through the seasons with a smile on my face.
So, when mid-April rolled around and the days got longer, I started planning a May Day barbecue. We had green grass, sunshine... what more could you ask for? I ran the idea by Spencer, my Montana-born and -raised husband, who asked, “Do you mean Memorial Day, like at the end of the month?” Of course I didn’t. I meant May Day, on the first of the month. “You want to plan a barbecue OUTSIDE?” Yes, that’s where one typically holds them. “Ooooookay, go right ahead and plan that,” he said, as I wondered why he wasn’t totally on board with this fun idea.
On May 1, we woke up to 18 inches of snow on the ground. I had to cancel my May Day cookout. It was all very amusing, but I won’t lie, it was extremely disorienting, too. To believe the world works one way and then to find it doesn’t necessarily function the way you think it does is quite a shock. From then on, the word “spring” became a relative term, one that was constantly open to interpretation, instead of being the fixed concept I had always assumed it was.
I think we’re all in for a bit of my May Day Oz experience as the structures we’ve been living under for the past year fall away. It won’t be a clear-cut “that was then, this is now” situation, but rather a bit of Montana springtime “now you see it, now you don’t.” And just like Montana spring, we don’t always know how those around us are interpreting our shared experience. Is this person in front of me someone who has been slogging through the cold since January 1, just barely making it to warmer weather? Or is this person someone who continues to hike higher and higher into the mountains to grab the last shreds of powder under their skis well into June? Will today be a day where I bundle up in my down jacket and then watch my neighbor step out of their house in shorts and a T-shirt? Yes to all of that.
So, just like every spring, let’s give each other room to emerge into the world again. Let’s enjoy the fact that we finally get to see our friends and neighbors after so long, even if there’s some space between us. And let’s appreciate that we will all be feeling disoriented and unsure of what we should be doing. It feels like Faith, Hope, and Love are calling in a more poignant way than most of us have experienced in a long time, and as they say: “The greatest of these is Love.” That’s what is leading me as I venture out into the world these days, where decisions about personal interactions are anything but clear-cut. Along with, of course, the old classic: “Never plan a May Day barbecue in Montana.”
— Kerry Williams serves as Vice Moderator for Pilgrim Church