It was ANZAC Day 2020.
I had set the alarm for 5.30am No one in the Close where I live had mentioned a thing about gathering. Nevertheless, I felt an urge to recognize and remember my fellow Australians, both living and dead on that morning. Lighting my candle at 6.00am, I closed my front door and walked to the end of my drive. I could dimly make out that the flag on my neighbour’s flagpole, was at half-mast. I was not surprised to hear the sound of the last post coming from a nearby radio.
But I was surprised to see a small candle lit at the bottom of the drive of every home in our Close. There in the darkness, I could make out the silent respectful figures of one or even three gathered, in their drive, heads bowed, while the sound of two radios, one at either end of the Close, broadcast the remembrance, the Oath and the National Anthem.
Gathered together there, as the sunrise began to lighten the darkness, we drew strength from one another. We seemed to be saying: “we are all in this darkness together; but there is light. We each share our light. We are present; we are listening and attentive, holding in our corporate memory the courage to go forward in the face of suffering”.
This too is my prayer and hope for our Parish.
The Reverend Judith Peterkin