I write from the Green Mountains of Vermont, where I am on retreat for a few days: attending liturgies at the Weston Priory, sleeping late, reading and just generally relishing the silence and space for prayer and meditation. Almost like an archeological "dig", this kind of time for prayer tends to uncover buried treasures, precious gifts that lie below the surface of our attention. I want to tell you about some of these buried treasures.

First, and surely most important, is discovering once again how wondrous, how tender and sturdy, is God’s love for me — for all of us, indeed...But Divine Love is deeply personal, a reality we discover over and over for ourselves. I am a woman in love. I pray that each of you may be making such a re-discovery as you move into the celebrations of Holy Week and Easter. Although the Cross is a mystery which can never be fully plumbed, is it about the self-gift of Jesus in utter vulnerability to human sinfulness. The Cross reveals something of the quality of God’s tenacious love for us, even in the full flower of our sinfulness.

I am also uncovering the treasure of community. It matters to Jesus how we live our life as a diocesan community, for it is Jesus who first formed the holy community and spoke to us of God’s intent that we be ONE. Community is more than social clustering: it is a sacred vessel where it is safe to be honest, to differ, to name our experiences of God, to join together in responding to God’s love by living lives of justice, compassion and service. Community does not just happen: it is built, tended, strengthened and sheltered. I have re-discovered the treasure of community. We cannot build community without the efforts and gifts of each one. If it’s the work of a few, it’s not community. We are the branches, Christ is the Vine. We are not simply ornamental: we are called to bear fruit.

A third treasure which I have found here comes from jumping over mud puddles (yes, it’s mud season in Vermont too). It’s the treasure of finding new ways to sojourn. This has been for me a year of learning new paths and new routes, both geographical and spiritual. Slowly, with such generous guidance from the Spirit as takes my breath away, I am learning how to avoid being immobilized and getting stuck in ruts. I am learning about making choices to stay on high ground. I am finding out who my angels are: who will come and lovingly help dig me out if I get stuck or lift me up if I slip. And, I am learning how much fun it can be to bend at the knees, center one’s energy, and leap off over the mud onto dry ground. And how, at the end of each day, the boots which will inevitably pick up some mud no matter what, can be washed clean and made ready for the next day’s travel.

I told the clergy last year, during the Renewal of Vows made at the Chrism Eucharist, that God has called me to be your bishop in order to form me as God willed to. It has been a year of formation for me — and I sense for us all. Something about love, community and new paths... something about buried treasure, truth and fun. I recall Bennett Sims’ advice to me about being a bishop, given one year ago just before I was consecrated: 1. Love them. 2. Say your prayers. 3. Have fun. Yes, Bennett, been doin’all that.

As our second year together begins, I will continue to do all that I can to fulfill the promise I made to +Fred before he died: I will care for you. And you are caring well for me, too: you are learning to be honest with me, to listen to me, to grant me the respect which attaches to the office of a bishop regardless of who occupies it, and yes, indeed, to love me. Thank you for being the Body of Christ who is God’s Love made Flesh. It’s good to be hiking together.