BLOG: VOICES FROM CEDAR LANE
The holiday season embodies what we love most about Cedar Lane. Opportunities for celebration, connection, and contemplation. Together, we are building a beloved community.
It is also a time to take stock of our community’s accomplishments. And, you know what? We did some pretty incredible things. We…
In October 2017, Cedar Lane voted to adopt a new “Covenant of Right Relations.” Jim Anderson, then Board president, explained that this new document was intended to address two basic questions: “How will we live together when we don’t understand each other and we don’t agree?” and “What promises shall we make about how we want to be and what we want to do together?”
Since spring 2017, Cedar Lane has been working with the Islamic Cultural Center of Potomac to support a local refugee family from Homs, Syria. In addition to the father Mohammad and mother Fatema, there are two sons Khalid 22 and Yousef 18 and a daughter Reem 13. The older son works full-time; the younger son is in 11th grade and works part-time; and the daughter is in 7th grade.
My cursor is blinking.
Rapidly flashing as thoughts race through my mind.
Each flash, equally as important as the last.
Each flash a moment of possibility.
Blinking. Blinking. Trying to form—something.
Waiting to tell a story.
There is so much to say.
So much to share.
But I find myself caught in the silent flashing moments.
Of a cursor, both frozen and moving.
Waiting for something to change.
As I enjoyed Cedar Lane's memorial garden this afternoon in the cool autumn air, I reflected on all the ways nature reacts to these "lean times" we are approaching. Perhaps the trees are showing us how easy it is to let go. All of creation reacts to these changes in seasons in different ways. Some creatures get out, move on, and migrate to warmer climates. Other creatures gather the fallen fruits and nuts in preparation for winter. Other creatures actually slow their bodies down so they can survive.
It is rare in life where we walk into a space and it immediately feels like home, especially when we were terrified to take the first step. I suppose I should preface this with a description of what home looked like to me. I grew up in a very diverse religious background with a culturally Jewish, temple-averted father, an Episcopalian mother whose only reason for not converting was her reluctance to give up Christmas, and a Buddhist grandmother who took up a Tuesday bible study group for the community it brought.