So(ul)journ!

How good are you at skipping rocks?

I’ve been reflecting a lot on my re-entry process and how my return to our shared ministry mirrors what an astronaut experiences when preparing to return their space vehicle to Earth. Are you aware of all the safety checks an astronaut must perform to make it back home? It’s not about a specific number but a comprehensive inspection of multiple systems, including the craft’s heat shield, guidance systems, attitude control, communication links, life support, and trajectory calculations. Each system requires meticulous attention to ensure a safe return. Re-entry is a significant transitional phase where planning, caution, and collaboration are key to a successful return.

Preparing for my renewal leave involved extensive time and planning. I worked closely with the renewal leave team to ensure everything would run smoothly in my absence. I even planned the themes for services upon my return. Those I entrusted with responsibilities had the freedom to diverge from our plans if they chose, and I had to trust and have faith in their stewardship. With church plans complete, I spent the last weeks before my leave organizing our travel itinerary and accommodations. When my leave began, I felt confident that both church and personal plans were well set.

I’ve had an amazing time apart. Jacki and I have traveled and experienced so much. We visited family. We helped Elisabeth transition home to begin a new chapter in her life. We walked a long, 128-kilometer stretch on the Camino. I built a shed and redesigned a bathroom. I connected with my ancestors and my descendants. I experienced the closing of summer and beheld the beautiful colors of autumn driving along the northeastern highways. Soon, I anticipate seeing snow as we head to Colorado to visit Wes. Our time has been full, and as I think about my re-entry, it feels like leaving one reality, a place with space for “me-to-be,” to return to another, which I know will be full of responsibilities.

Re-entry is an important transitional phase, and like an astronaut, I’m running checks on the various systems—groups and responsibilities—that will need my attention so that I can ease back into church life. My mind keeps running scenarios of how re-entry will play out. Truthfully, I feel wholly unprepared. It took months to prepare for my departure, and though some things are planned for my return, I could spend much more time preparing for re-entry—time which I don’t have. Yet, this I know and one thing is certain: I get one chance at this, and I want to get it right.

As an astronaut turns their craft earthward, they must carefully guide it. If the re-entry angle is too steep, they—and their vehicle—will burn up in the earth’s atmosphere. If they go too fast or approach at too shallow an angle, they risk bouncing off the atmosphere and hurling into the cosmos. I’m not interested in burning up or heading into the cosmos (not just yet!). Apparently, the calculations to re-enter the earth’s atmosphere (for me, returning to ministry) are more like skipping rocks on a lake. An astronaut has to steer their craft to hit the atmosphere at the correct angle, with its heat shield facing Earth, allowing it to skip over the atmosphere until friction causes it to “break” and slow down, eventually gliding in for a safe landing. Practically, you only get one go at landing—more like falling with style—and the goal is to get it right the first time. Which brings me back to my opening question.

How good are you at skipping rocks?

That might seem like a rhetorical question, but it’s not. There’s one thing I know—and you probably know about me—that I’m not a “skipping rocks kind of person.” I actually tried to skip some rocks while on the Isle of Iona. The sea was calm, and the beach had tons of smooth, flat rocks, perfect for skipping, but under my own power, I managed only phenomenal crash-and-burn scenarios. A better resolution is to rely on folks who are better at skipping rocks or who can remind me to “skip rocks” when it looks like I’m heading for a crash-and-burn trajectory.

Reflecting on my blog post about Walking the Camino, Jacki asked if I would have preferred to walk alone. I realized that my loner nature wouldn’t have led to the success we accomplished together. I’m sensing a powerful need for a communal approach to this re-entry. Even an astronaut has “ground control”—the many people who help guide them safely back to Earth. They advise on angles and anticipate issues. Your mission (if you’re open to accepting it) as a reader of this blog, family member, friend, congregant, or church leader is vitally important in helping guide me back into church life and our shared ministry together.

Re-entry takes time. I look forward to hearing your stories from the time we’ve been apart, and I look forward to sharing mine. Let’s enthusiastically create space to share our experiences in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

Looking forward to skipping rocks with you.