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Dear Church Family,

May arrives with flowers, gifts of beauty, and memory. In my work, flowers often mark both celebration and loss. They remind me that life is a gentle mingling of gladness and sorrow, each petal holding a bit of both.

Mother’s Day deepens this mix. For many, it is a celebration; for others, it brings longing and gratitude. I feel my own mother’s absence and know others do too. May is a time when these feelings meet.

Lately, I have found myself under heavy skies mentally and emotionally. There have been hurdles, and sometimes I catch myself growing impatient, not from frustration with others, but from a deep longing to reach those in need. Even at home, as our family feels the pinch of the grocery bill, I find myself thinking of neighbors who walk through each day with even less. The ache to help is a quiet companion.

I carry your stories with gratitude. Holding them with my own experiences, I’m reminded we are made for community to help bear each other’s burdens.

Yet amid these weights, grace has found me unexpected, quiet, and sure.

I see grace in the steady hands of volunteers at Camino Rising, who show up again and again with quiet compassion. I see it in the lay leaders who have taken time to know me not just as your pastor, but as a person who, too, needs care and rest. Their gentle accountability is a balm.

Recently, a member sent an email that brought me to the brink of tears, sharing their view of this ministry from the quiet of their pew. I have heard such words before, but this time, they settled differently in my heart. When I mentioned it to another who had shared similar encouragement, I joked that they must be in cahoots. But maybe, in truth, I simply needed to hear it anew.

It called to mind my mother, a strong and gentle soul, and how her strength, care, and compassion echo in the lives of those God places along my path.

All of this returns me to a simple and tender truth: we never truly know the burdens another bears.

As your pastor, my role is not to place my needs on you as a congregation. My needs are met in serving alongside you. My calling is to tend to the life of this community, helping us become a place where care is shared and honesty is welcomed.

During this Mental Health Awareness Month, I invite you: be gentle with yourself, and check in with your heart. Reach out to someone who may need support, or offer a listening ear. Take one step, however small, toward caring for your own well-being or for another. And if you are struggling, let your first act be to reach out. Speak with a friend, a family member, another member of our church, or even me. You do not need to share your full story; just let someone accompany you. You are not alone; choose connection this month, and let us walk this path together.

And for all of us, may we continue to grow into a community that truly bears one another’s burdens with compassion and care.

Remember: You are loved. You are enough. You belong.

Peace and grace,
Rev. Gilbert