Returning home from church, newcomer class and hospital visit in February, Dave and I encountered dense fog in places. It was a bit of a challenge to navigate, but mostly a beautiful mist softening the landscape, adding mystery and wonder to the stands of trees, bits of archeology and crass evidence of commerce along Route 100. It was quite literally sublime – the remaining winter snow cover transitioning directly into the air as water vapor. And then we came home to the ridiculous – piles of
oddments in my study, as I open boxes in an effort to reorganize my life after moving twice in six months. There’s the yarn stash in a large box and two baskets and a bag. Over there is Basket and Container World, a pile for Archives and Sentiment, Office Supply Territory, not to mention the endless shelves representing 15 years of pottery classes.
Religious Education professional and my friend, Joy Berry talks about Bricolage – a French term for art made of tinkering with found objects, assemblages like collages or improvised musical instruments, or sculpture made of junk. This seems like a metaphor of our lives, or at least mine. Because hovering around the ridiculous and the sublime are all the other bits and pieces, connections, fears, discoveries, hopes – cheering on a colleague who just received a lung transplant, gratitude for a friend who gave me a lift home from class, sympathy for a pottery teacher whose beloved died unexpectedly, having our first dinner guests in our new space, being found on Facebook by a high school classmate who turns out to be the mother of a UU minister, hearing the peepers heralding spring, getting help with setting up my printer, trying to cope with the terrible and terrifying public news – this week mosque shootings in New Zealand, always the unchecked advance of climate change. Everyone has these juxtapositions – making dinner plans while absorbing the news of a dire diagnosis. Spending a huge amount of money on new tires to get back to where you thought you were yesterday, while grieving a loss. Giving generously to share our resources while wondering what we really need most ourselves.
How do we make a whole and integrated life out of all this bricolage? I don’t have a direct answer to that, but Unitarian Universalism is the home where we can grapple with
these questions, offering one another both nurture and challenge.
And I am grateful for it, and for you.
Rev Kerry Mueller
