Treasure the Invisible.
Some time ago, we had a working bee here at Christchurch Hamilton. The day was overcast and coolish, but rugged up and looking like a bit of a dag, I cheerfully joined in.
The aim was to smarten up the grounds, get rid of excess vegetation, show the community that we take our care of the environment seriously, and offer a manicured ‘welcome mat’. There were heady discussions about the logistics of what needed to be done, the right equipment, and who would/could/should apply for these much-sought-after positions.
The skip filled easily and quickly. In fact, there is probably another skip waiting in the next-door departure lounge ready to go. The distraught and hapless flag pole was moved out of harm's way, and plotting began for a slightly different version. It now looks very hospitable, and you’re always welcome to see what we accomplished.
It was leading into the footy finals, so there was a bit of chatter about who might win and who might lose. Who had despaired of their team and whose heart had gone into arrhythmia with hope and excitement.
But there was something else that happened, and while it was invisible, I sensed it most keenly when we all stopped for a well-earned cuppa and delectable homemade scone.
The sense of camaraderie and teamwork, co-operation and conviviality was almost palpable. Together we had achieved much, and the sense of pride blended with mirth and jocularity was just as enjoyable as looking over the well-cared-for and much-loved grounds.
These invisible threads of companionship, encouragement and community are the deepest and sweetest treasures for me as a parish priest. They are not quantifiable, touchable or seeable, but it is these invisible things that I treasure most.