Take a breath today...

Yesterday we kicked off the week with shouts of Hosanna and the waving of palm branches. We remembered the peaceful walk Jesus made into Jerusalem—the kind of walk that stirred up the whole city. And we know that next Sunday will culminate in joy and shouts of Alleluia… but we’ve still got a while before we get there.

Life moves quickly, and before we know it, we can stumble

from Hosanna to Alleluia without ever pausing to reflect on what happens in between. Do we rush through Holy Week because we’re busy? Or because it makes us uncomfortable? Maybe it’s both. Sometimes it’s simply because the hard parts are… hard. And it’s easier to move past them than to sit with them.

I say this not to guilt any of us, but to invite awareness. None of us has to do everything—thanks be to God! But we can experience the depth and goodness of this week if we’re just a little intentional.

Of course, we would love for you to join us for one (or more) of our Holy Week worship opportunities (see below). We also have a Lenten devotional (check your newsletter) with reflections for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday (spoiler alert—you can read them any day). Or you might watch a short overview of the Gospel of Matthew on YouTube (https://youtu.be/GGCF3OPWN14). And we shouldn’t overlook the simplest practice of all: sitting quietly with God and opening your Bible.

So often, we overthink this. We make it more complicated than it needs to be, and in doing so, we make the journey with Jesus feel out of reach. This Holy Week, let’s be gentle with ourselves and with one another. Let’s give thanks for the journey we’ve already had with God—and make just a little room to notice God with us now, even if it’s only for a breath.

Cole Arthur Riley offers this prayer:

Inhale: I won’t be rushed from grieving.Exhale: I can rest in this silence.

So this week, as we meet God along the way to the cross, I hope you find space to breathe—and grace to hold you.

In Gretna Grace,

Pastor Marissa

Dearest Gretna,

I have often said that God’s middle name is surprise, because it is a lesson I have learned over and over again in my life (often the hard way). And so it feels especially true as I write this letter to you.

I have been appointed as the Senior Pastor of Rayne Memorial United Methodist Church, effective July 1, 2026. This news comes as a surprise to me in many ways, and at the very top of that list is my deep love for ministry with the people of Gretna United Methodist Church. This was not what I expected, and I know it may not be what you expected either.

And yet, I am reminded once again that if God is good—all the time—then we are called to trust. To trust that even in the unexpected, God is at work, doing a good thing that we may not yet be able to fully see.

We still have meaningful time together between now and July to continue the ministry we have been building and to prepare for what God has next for this incredible community. The privilege of being your pastor, and of glimpsing the kingdom of God here with you, has been one of the greatest joys of my ministry.

With love and hope,

Pastor Marissa

Gretna Family,

And the news continues… Just as the season of Lent calls us into a time of preparation, we find ourselves in a season of transition.

While we begin to prepare to say goodbye to Pastor Marissa, we also prepare to say hello. Rev. Rosmery LaFontaine has been appointed as the Senior Pastor of Gretna United Methodist Church, effective July 1, 2026. We are excited to welcome Pastor Rosmery and her family, trusting that God is already at work in this next chapter of our shared life.Below you will find a brief bio for Pastor Rosmery and her family, offering a glimpse into who she is as we begin preparing to welcome her.

Transitions like this bring many emotions—gratitude, sadness, uncertainty, and hope. Each one is valid, and each one is held by God.

In the coming months, we will have time to celebrate all that God has done in and through our shared ministry. And when the time comes, we will also extend the same warmth, hospitality, and “Gretna Grace” to Pastor Rosmery and her family.

We believe that the Holy Spirit continues to move in and through Gretna United Methodist Church—guiding us, sustaining us, and calling us forward as a community rooted in love, grace, and a deep desire to grow closer to Jesus.

With Gretna Grace,

Nann Galloway (Staff Parish Relations Committee Chair) and Pastor Marissa

Tell Me Something Good…

We’ve gone from “Throw me something, mister!” to something much quieter.

From beads flying through the air to ashes traced on our foreheads.

And just like that, the Church calendar turns.

This Lent, our series is called “Tell Me Something Good.” It may sound like a strange theme for a season that begins with the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Not exactly a Hallmark-card holiday. You don’t hear many people saying, “Happy Ash Wednesday!” with the same enthusiasm as “Happy Mardi Gras!”

But here we are.

Each year the palms we waved in praise become the ashes we wear in humility. Last year’s shouts of Hosanna! are burned into this year’s reminder of our mortality. On the surface, it feels somber—even a little morbid. Ashes are honest. They don’t let us pretend we are invincible. They level the playing field.

And yet.

There is something strangely hopeful about a cross traced in ash.

Because even as we remember that we are dust, the cross reminds us that dust is not the end of the story. The promise of resurrection is quite literally burned into the sign we wear on our bodies. Ash Wednesday only makes sense because Easter is coming.

Living in south Louisiana, we understand something about balance. If you have Mardi Gras without Ash Wednesday, you’re missing something. Joy without reflection can turn hollow. But the reverse is true, too. Without the revelry, the music, the laughter, and yes, even the king cake, Ash Wednesday can feel unbearably heavy. The Church, in her wisdom, gives us both. Celebration and confession. Beads and ashes. Brass bands and bowed heads.

They belong together.

Today, as I marked foreheads with ashes, I looked into the eyes of toddlers and great-grandmothers. I met people I may never see again. I traced the cross on those who live alone and those whose homes are full. On the healthy and the weary. On the joyful and the anxious. On those carrying diagnoses, grief, secret struggles, and quiet hopes.

Ashes are a great equalizer. In that way, they have something in common with Mardi Gras. No matter who you are or where you come from—dust.

And also—beloved.

Ash Wednesday reminds us that life is fragile. That loss is real. That time is not guaranteed. But instead of leading us into despair, this holy honesty invites us to live well. To love fiercely. To seek justice. To repair what is broken. To tell the truth about ourselves and about God.

And that is where the good news begins.

Lent is not a season of doom; it is a season of depth. Over the coming weeks, we will listen again for the goodness of Jesus—good news that meets us in ordinary moments, at wedding feasts and dinner tables, in parables and everyday encounters. Good news that insists all are invited. Good news that grows like yeast and surprises like water turned to wine.

So yes, today we wear ashes.

But we also carry hope.

If Ash Wednesday teaches us anything, it is this: there is no time like the present to live the kind of life that matters. To forgive. To reconcile. To show up. To tell someone something good.

Come get some good news this season.

And then go share it.