Pastoral Letter: When We Can’t Manage Everything, Grace Still Holds Us
Dear Simsbury UMC family,
This past weekend, we found ourselves slowing down before snowfall that simply would not stop. It was the kind of snow that makes time feel heavier, the kind that blurs our sense of when we last saw anything like it. After a thoughtful conversation with our leaders, we chose—first and foremost—for safety, and decided to worship from home.
On Saturday, I came to the sanctuary to record the service. With Len’s help, everything came together smoothly. Music that had been prepared in advance was woven in, and the flow of worship felt grounded and whole. When the recording was finished, I felt a sense of calm. On Sunday morning, watching the snow pour outside the window, I quietly began the day, occasionally checking in to see how many of you were gathering via video. Though we were scattered, we were still connected—held together in worship.
At noon, I joined a Zoom gathering with the Exhorters—lay preachers who serve congregations across our area. We didn’t try to say everything. We asked the simple, essential questions: How do we remain faithful to what God has entrusted to us? How do we keep walking this road together? That time of fellowship warmed the heart in a quiet way.
As evening came, the snow still hadn’t stopped. And with it came a familiar concern: Were our church members safe, warm, and cared for?
On Monday morning, stepping outside to see everything covered in white, I felt momentarily overwhelmed. Between catching up on household tasks and hoping life might soon reconnect with the wider world again, I went out with my children to shovel so the car could get out. We spent a long time outside, wrestling with the snow. It was fun, and then tiring. We laughed, and then I felt frustrated again, looking at how much snow still remained.
But the children were different. They didn’t measure what was left to be done. They didn’t calculate how long it would take. They simply jumped into the snow and played—fully present, fully alive in that moment. Watching them, I felt a quiet longing.
Some of you may have felt something similar this week. The mix of gratitude and fatigue. The urge to manage what cannot be managed. The way worry can sneak back in, even after we have done what we can.
That is often how life is for us. We encounter situations that cannot be carried by effort alone. No matter how prepared we are, no matter how faithfully we try, there are moments that move beyond our control. This snow-filled weekend was one of those moments. And in those moments, I am reminded: perhaps what we need to relearn is not how to manage better, but how to entrust ourselves more deeply to God—who meets us in Christ not after everything is resolved, but precisely when we realize we cannot hold it all together.
So this week, I hope it will not be a week of simply trying to endure a little longer, but a week of honestly naming our limits—and welcoming grace back into that very place. God does not wait for us to be “fine” before drawing near. God comes close when we are still tired, still unsure, still standing on ground that feels a little slippery.
I find myself returning quietly to this word:
“Cast all your anxiety on God, because God cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7, NRSV)
And perhaps this is a gentle invitation for us as well: sometime this week, in one small moment, may we release what we cannot control. May we unclench our grip—just a little—and let ourselves be present. Not as a spiritual performance, but as a matter of trust. Not as denial, but as surrender into the care of the One who holds us.
I also want to express my gratitude to all who serve week after week—both in visible ways and unseen ones—so that worship can continue, even under unexpected circumstances. Your faithfulness becomes a channel of grace that keeps us connected, no matter how we gather.
The weather and conditions this week may still be uncertain. Please know that your safety matters deeply. Make the wisest choice for your situation. And wherever you find yourself, may you rest in the assurance that God’s caring presence goes before you, surrounds you, and holds you.
With grace and peace,
Pastor DH