From the Rector…
The other morning, after my swim, I settled into a pool lounger and looked up. A vast cloud formation stretched across the sky in the unmistakable shape of a dove. The half-moon, still visible in the early light, was a mere speck beside it. Even a plane flying beneath the great white wings seemed no larger than an ant, though I could still see the curve of the plane’s wings and the silver glint of sunlight along its underbelly.
I was captivated. The sight filled me with a deep and quiet peace. My mind turned immediately to Scripture: to the dove descending at Jesus’ baptism, to the dove that returned to Noah with an olive branch of hope and promise, to the Spirit alighting on the disciples at Pentecost. I could not look away from that immense cloud-dove in the sky. It seemed heaven-sent.
As I gazed upward, the dove seemed to shift ever so slightly. Its head, breast, and torso lengthened, stretching into the form of an angel. Not a cherub, soft and sweet, but a fierce divine being—radiant with strength and grace. It carried a kind of fearless assurance, as if declaring, “I will protect you. You are not alone.” I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I needed to hear those words—how much I longed to be reminded of God’s presence and power.
The world seems heavy with anxiety right now. The changes and chances of life have come so quickly, so chaotically, that they can leave one feeling powerless. And in that space of powerlessness, despair is never far behind. We may not simply lament that sense of powerlessness; we can begin to feel threatened by it. Fear makes us vulnerable to thoughts and choices we might not otherwise embrace. So, when the angel in the sky offered reassurance, I wanted to accept it fully as peace and hope painted by God’s own hand in the sky that morning.
A dove and an angel—it was enough for me, but not for God. As I continued to gaze upon the heavenly being, the angel shifted once more—this time into the shape of Christ upon the cross. The wings stretched into crossbeams, the body twisted and suspended upon them. The vision carried power beyond words: a reminder that through Christ, all is redeemed, all is held, all is well.
We are not left to face this life alone. We are surrounded—by Christ himself, by the Spirit moving among us, by the unseen company of heaven. The Spirit does not remain in the clouds but moves and breathes through us, drawing us nearer to God and God nearer to us.
We are not alone. We are braver than we know. We are capable of deep love. We are enough. Live into that truth and share it with the world—for in doing so, we manifest the presence of God.
We’ve got this. And, more importantly, God has us.
Light and Life,
Candice Frazer+