Dear FVMs,

Eleven years ago, I found myself on closing retreat, where these words now reach you.  Eleven years from now, perhaps you will find yourself thinking of one of your neighbors down the street, of one of the guests from the Inn, of one of the parishioners, of a community member.  Maybe you have the same internet password as you did at your FVM house, because it reminds you of how much you cared about each other. Maybe you hear a church hymn for the first time in a decade, and it brings you right back to ministry.

Maybe you’re still in touch with some of the other FVMs and can laugh and cry together as you remember this beautiful year of your life.  Maybe you fell into an easy rhythm, or maybe it was hard for a while before you found what worked.  Maybe you went out together in a storm – figurative or literal.  Maybe you were able to avor a day at the beach.  Maybe you played tricks on your site supervisor (sorry Fr. Hugh!), or maybe you came home early one day from ministry because your community member had a rough day of their own.

This last year – your experiences, your learnings, your love – you take that all with you now.  You carry it with you every step of the way, and these are light enough to see by.  They need not be hermetically sealed into your “past” – in many ways, they are your present. These experiences will form you for the rest of your life, if you let them. They are a well which will never run dry.

Preserve as much of this past year as you can.  Put some of your photos in an album (maybe even print them!). Record a voice memo when you recall a particularly touching or meaningful moment.  Write down the vision, as Habakkuk declares in the Hebrew Scriptures. “Write this. Write what you see. Write it out in big block letters so that it can be read on the run.”

A dear friend and fellow FVM once told me, “life outside of FVM is weird.”  The world outside of FVM is going to feel different in ways that I cannot begin to predict for you. The shape of your community, of your ministry, of your prayer – these will likely take on new features, to the point that they might, at first, seem unfamiliar as community, as ministry, as prayer.

I was formed first and most deeply by Ignatian Spirituality (sorry Fr. Michael!); with this lens, all things can be an instrument of God’s grace and God’s glory.  All that you carry and all that you will come to know – these are grace and glory. And, in this way, each new year of your life has the capacity to be one of love, lived in service.

May you have the support and peace that you need to transition to your next adventures well, and know that I hold you close in prayer.

Peace and all good,
Rachel Carey: FVM Camden ‘11-’12