Missing the Blessing

Today as we began worship, I had one of the kids hand out glow sticks, but only to one side of the worship space. I told him to make sure everyone on the one side had glowsticks and then to sit down with the bag until later. As we were finishing our series on the 10 Commandments today, today was the day to focus on the two coveting commandments. So after the reading from Exodus 20, and then a reminder of the dialogue between Jesus and the expert in the law, I asked if everyone on the one side had a glowstick and handed out one to the person who still needed one. I reminded the congregation of my personal love of glowsticks, and asked if anyone on the side without glowsticks liked them too, and a few people raised their hands. One person wondered aloud why they had not also been given glowsticks. So I asked what they would be willing to do for a glowstick. That’s what coveting is about. Someone has something and we want it, and we set out to figure out how to get it. Specifically how to get theirs. Whenever we do this we upset people’s lives.

It all starts with a look and deciding to act. And usually it involves bigger things than glowsticks. But whenever we try to get the things others have or change relationships, we cause hurt and damage. And it usually leads to those bigger commandments. And we stop trusting in God to provide for us.

Of course we also remembered we are to share and later we did handout glowsticks to the others because Jesus calls us to love and to share.

So then we were ready to move on to the rest of the sermon, but as a way of background, last Monday, a gentleman who worshipped with us week in and week out, died suddenly and unexpectedly of cardiac arrest. He was a quiet man who sat alone each week. A few years ago he had lost his voice in a bout with throat cancer but was able to communicate with an adaptive device. Having met his family for the funeral I learned there was so much more to this man than I knew, and I felt the sting of not knowing more in my three years as pastor. And I was surprised how little anyone else knew as well. I sat with that this week and wondered how God was speaking. And so today’s sermon was in part a moment to draw together as community and start a risky conversation, knowing everyone of us needed to. And for people to hear how a quiet man saw this place in ways he also never shared.

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Perhaps one of the most notorious cases of coveting is David and Bathsheba. Bathsheba was bathing on the roof, which I know seems odd now, but then it wasn’t. She was bathing on the roof and David caught a glimpse, and she was hot. It only took a look. From then on he just had to have her, and he made it his purpose. It led him to send her husband Uriah into battle to fight a fight he couldn’t win, which also means he sent a whole army into a fight they wouldn’t survive. And he had to because he and Bathsheba had already gotten together and she was pregnant. Today on Facebook, we’d say their relationship status was “It’s Complicated.” Massive destruction of relationships occurred involving killing and lying and stealing and adultery. But it all started with a look and a desire. To have something that wasn’t his.

Coveting itself isn’t about infidelity or theft- those are other commandments. But these two coveting commandments are given, according to Luther, to show us that it is a sin to desire or in any way aim at getting something of our neighbor’s- their spouse or their possessions. It’s about relationships.

Yesterday I conducted a funeral for Art and as a part of it got to meet his wife Elizabeth and his family. And you might wonder what on earth that has to do with coveting. Well, Art had been a member here at Holy Spirit since he was a child dropped off at the Childrens’ Home nearby. And as many of you know it was the practice of the late great Pastor Radcliffe to bring children from there to here so they could have a church home. They were adopted if you will into this church family. So much so that when Pastor Radcliffe retired and later died, it was like losing a Dad for those people. Art was 79 and had been worshipping here for about 70 years. He say over there in the last row, and was usually about the first one here. Week after week.

Elizabeth has been a lifelong Catholic. And the family was raised in the Catholic church. So many of the life milestones happened there. But over the years, Elizabeth shared with me that she and Art came to agree that though they worshipped in different places, God would give them the strength to respect each other’s faith. The most important thing was being active in their faith and church. And frankly I think that there were times when as a spouse she would have had a right to say the family ought to all be together. And maybe even times they did try to influence the other. But she recognized the role this church played in Art’s life, and that he was only really going to be a Lutheran, and that his being here strengthened him to be the husband and father he was. So she didn’t work at trying to get him to change. She saw that God’s family is bigger than we think.

That’s what these commandments get at. That even if by right you could obtain something, we shouldn’t alienate someone from it. And it was obvious that Art’s life was blessed by being here with all of you. But there is another aspect of this relationship that ought to be explored and I am going to risk discussing it.

In spite of the fact that Art was here for all these years, when I was announcing his death, it seemed that not many people really knew him or who he was. That most did not. And frankly I myself, as the pastor here for three years, had to ask why I knew so little. Yes, he was quiet, but still I wonder. And it makes me sad.

And I want to suggest a very subtle aspect of coveting that churches can fall into. When I first came here one of the things people wanted me to do as the new pastor was to get everyone back who left. And the truth is that some of them had found other churches. As much as I like you want the place to be filled, going after people who have other churches is coveting. And it was important to say that trying to lure them back would be wrong. We want this place full and sometimes we are very focused on wondering how to draw more people here. At the same time however, coveting skews our perspective. Because when we get so focused on the blessing we are so sure is somewhere out there, we lose sight of the blessings in our midst. That’s the consequence of coveting- missing the blessing.

And Art was a blessing. I have heard stories of how much he adored this place, and all of you. He kept coming year after year because of you. And the encounter with God in this place. Even if you never knew it. He talked about this place with love. I wonder how many of us knew?

Last Sunday none of us knew what Monday would bring but last Sunday I preached on loving the neighbors right in front of you. And during the sharing of the peace, I have heard several of you remark that Art made a point of shaking your hand, every hand, more than usual. Loving all of you.

And then we had anointing as we do on the last Sunday each month- for healing, forgiveness, wholeness. And Art has come to receive this before, but this past Sunday he was intentional, and stood ramrod straight before me so I could make that cross on his forehead. And he was obviously pleased- he smiled, there were tears in his eyes. He was overjoyed to be here.

And I think about the beauty of the Catholic faith where anointing is a sacrament. Last rites and anointing should be offered whenever possible. And I am struck by knowing that last Sunday, Art was blessed to be in this fellowship and at Christ’s table, and to receive that cross on his forehead, the same one made in baptism, one last time- like a bookend in his life. That cross that tells us we are adopted into God’s family, and that salvation is ours. What a blessing.

It reminds us who God is for us in Christ. And we’re freed, to live. Today I hope we can remember that we should never be so focused on looking elsewhere for the blessing we miss out on how God is blessing us right here. God’s celebration is better than we imagine. And if there is someone here you realize you really don’t know- reach out and ask. No one is going to tell you it’s too late. Don’t wait- let’s live into the blessing of God’s reality now.

So I’ll Bet You’re Glad to Have a Break..

I was worried about making the shift from full time asphalt warrior student to being home for the next three weeks. I had visions of relaxing and puttering in the yard and garden. My family has visions of all the things I am to do before I start CPE. I bravely contemplated polishing off the endorsement essay while I am still feeling academic.

So here is how has really started. Buddy the Beagle started throwing up grass on Wednesday night. Thursday morning as I was leaving for my last spring term class and picnic, he was still not doing well. I put the dog and the water bowl in the crate. I came home and he was disoriented. I carried him upstairs and went to look for the leash to take him out, when from the living room I hear violent wretching sounds. Exhibit A was now on the living room rug, in all its putrescence. But what was it? As I set about using paper towels and plastic bags, I read "JOE BOXER." Buddy, ever on the prowl for any snack, had eaten a pair of underwear and some pencil shavings and who knows what else. So I thought he would feel relieved, if tired. He would drink some water and feel a little better. Such was not the case, in fact the opposite was true. So I called the animal hospital and off my husband went with the beagle while I did the laundry of the Band shirt needed for Friday's performance by LC #2.

It, whatever it was, was some obstruction, involving X-rays and a stay at the vet hospital. On Friday we waited all morning for the call. Finally we needed to leave to go to LTSG for the eucharist service where I was in the choir. Just before the Great Thanksgiving, the call came that Buddy was doing better but needed to get his functions back in working order. He needed to stay until Saturday and we would hear more then. Surgery, once a real option, was now less likely.

In the midst of Saturday was a guitar lesson, and a homework project needing poster board. And I needed to get the garden plants in before the rain. Then we learned, there was an orchestra concert that night. No one even told us they had joined the orchestra. So one parent went to the concert. And one parent picked up the Beagle.

Sunday was dinner with my mother-in-law and two teenagers who swore there was nothing on the menu they would eat. There was and they did. Then a long conversation with my parents in FLA where I got the full medical update on all of their friends. And a request to go shopping for a dress for the dance, followed by a "never mind I have a performance in DC for Jazz Band- but Mom I need to be at the school at 5:45 am and I need white sneakers."

And there was a dentist appointment today, and the grocery store and the produce stand, and then I looked at the house and wondered when the last time I REALLY cleaned was. And "Mom when you take me to flute can you get me highlighting stuff for my hair?" "Did you remember you wanted to order the stuff for my 16^th birthday party before you start at the hospital?"

The dog needs medicated dog food, Metamucil and his antibiotic three times a day, and he must be monitored in the yard. And it is time to set up the screened in porch for the summer. My Beloved thinks I should fix the garden fence and mulch the beds, and…

It is wonderful to be home. Really home, not the superficial, just here to do school work and sleep thing. And I can do morning prayer in the Florida room and see my purple house finches, and goldfinches and the flicker. And I might get that essay done. I think of all of those who are missing their loved ones, or whose homes have been torn asunder by natural disaster or conflict. There is so much to thank God for, including the restored health of an incorrigible beagle, and the fact that no one had written "DUST ME" on the coffee table yet.

Lord, we give you thanks for the myriad of simple pleasures you create for us. Help us to slow down and savor them. Guide us as we love and care for those in our midst. May we never tire of praising you for our blessings. Amen.

 

Home Alone

The time before Christmas and the holidays are such a blur, and much happened on the homefront that I meant to write about as it was happening but it all unfolded too quickly in some ways. I have posted before about our spare teen, D. She has continued to spend lots of time with us, and in church on Wednesdays and Sundays. She is preparing for her baptism on Easter Vigil, and will be confirmed with LC#2 on All Saints Sunday. Her family situation continues to be very troubling and discordant. What happened recently made me think of the story of the Little Match Girl which I think was by Hans Christian Andersen.
Two weeks before Christmas, we had an ice storm. The schools dismissed early, but the public library was open. I picked up my two kids from school, but they told me that they thought D took the bus home. She had instead, walked to the public library in town to read and get a treat at the coffeeshop in the library. Unfortunately, about 2:00 p.m., the power went out in our entire town, and the library had to close. D. now had nowhere to go but to head for home. So she walked about two miles to get home. She is not allowed to have a cell phone and she did not think to come to our house which is only a half mile from the library( she is after all a teenager).
Her Mom is at work about an hour and a half away. Mom’s boyfriend was somewhere, but no one left a key out for her to get into the house ( she is not allowed to have her own key). There seems to be a pattern of the boyfriend locking D out of the house.
So now she is at her house, and it is windy and there is a light freezing rain, and the door is locked and she thinks her Mom will be home in a couple of hours. There are no neighbors at home, and she is cold and wet and tired. She sits down on the front step to wait. The power is off in town until about 5:15 so there is nowhere open she can go. And when it does come on, she could walk a half mile to the convenience store, but she can't stay there forever. Unfortunately her Mom is not home when she thought she would be, and the boyfriend had not come home... No one comes home until 9:00 p.m at night.
Now she is really cold and hungry and tired, and nto surprisingly, she gets sick- she had pneumonia. She misses the rest of school before the break except the last day. And her Mom could only stay home with her for a day or two, so she is home sick alone. And she doesn’t want to bother anyone, and so no one knows.
But by Christmas Eve she is well enough that she can come and sing with the youth choir at church. Before all of this had happened, I suggested to D that she invite her parents to come to see her sing at the service. She seemed skeptical that either would come, and frankly, so did I.
But on Christmas Eve, when we picked her up to go to rehearse, she says she thinks they are coming. And she has a new red shirt and she is excited. And in fact, her Dad and his new wife come for the whole service. Her Mom did come later, but had missed most of the singing by the youth- but she came. And for the first time she is dressed up and with makeup and it looks like she feels like a real person, maybe because she is there without the boyfriend, who D says is a “mean drunk.”
As I communed all of them, I tried to get a sense of it all. Did Dad come because it would be rude to say “no” to his daughter? How hard was it for Mom to tell the boyfriend she was doing something for D regardless of whether he wanted to come? D tells me she hears them argue about her and she knows the boyfriend considers her an intrusion. She tells me she asked for a microwave and a cappuccino maker for her room in the basement so she won’t even have to come upstairs to eat when her Mom is gone and the boyfriend is home. I worry what that really means.
I pray for this blended family that they can rejoice in the gift of each of its members, and that abuse, and fighting can stop, that caring can happen, and that permanence can occur. And I pray that D's Mom finds the strength to be the Mom to her daughter she needs to be, even if that means giving up the relationship with the boyfriend. Even though he is the father of her toddler. People who have known D's mom say she has really changed- she is not who she once was. Does she not care or is it all too overwhelming? I pray for her, and I pray for the safety of D who at least knows she can come to us, and that there is a light. And I pray that she would come to us if things were really dangerous and not just kind of tense.
What must it feel like to be 14 and know that most days, a choice is made which picks everyone but you? I have made sure D knows that she can always call us, and have asked the librarian to let her use the phone to call us if she is there and needs a ride. We have told her she is welcome at our house anytime, even without calling.
And for my part, I think that the next time I am picking D up and the key is under the flower pot, I am going to give her a gift- we’ll make copies ( we'll keep her spare) and she can keep it in her bag. No one needs to know. As much as I can’t fathom why the adults are not responsible, and why she is left to find others to pick up the pieces, I just can’t live with the thought that another day could pass when she can’t get in and she becomes a headline.

What is it that we are waiting for?

This is a season of the year when there is a palpable energy among people who are eagerly awaiting really big things. For the very young, there is the interminable amount of time that still must pass until Santa comes, which in our church is mirrored by the "Get Ready, Jesus is Coming" theme. Our annual holiday Mission Fair was again huge success, with a throng in the church basement social room scooping up yummy Divine chocolate, LWR fair trade coffee, tea and cocoa, and fair trade crafts for gifts that they cannot wait to bestow on loved ones. There was a surprise visit by St. Nicholas, who distributed chocolate gold coins and candy canes while little hands industriously made gift bags for gifts lovingly, if chaotically selected for their families. And the ELCA Good Gifts table had a banner year as well. I bought my mother a goat and secured the "I've got your goat" card to send. And outside the church is the creche with close to life sized figures ( but not Baby Jesus yet!)and a large sign that proclaims, "Prepare for His Coming!" which is set up each year by our Men's Group. And this week the Chrismon trees will appear and we light my favorite candle, the pink one.

At home, now that all of my tests and papers are done ( brief moment of rejoicing),cookie baking has begun in earnest, and cards are flying out the door, because it all must be done! We are all, I think, carefully marking off the things that make for what we call "the holiday season."

What if ... Jesus came today?
Before our Christmas. Before we knew what we got in the work gift exchange. Before we got to do all of things we think we must to feel fulfilled?
I wonder if any of us, myself included, would be tempted to say, "can you come back a little later?" Michael W. Smith's Christmas song, "Welcome to our World" states it well," Hope that you don't mind our manger, how I wish we would have known.."

Two events are weighing upon my mind this season. My friend with cancer, who I have blogged about before, has received good news, and not good news. The good news is the tumor in her liver is gone and the tumor in her breast is smaller! The bad news is that they think the cancer has moved into bone. Instead of sinking into despondency, my friend is an example of how illness has given her greater clarity and purpose and unbounding faith. There is an intensity of purpose. Why is it that usually it is only when we think time is of the essence that we do the things we are created to do- to love deeply, to share meaningfully? Sometime ago, I had given her the book Praying with Cancer. She recently mailed me a page in which the author talked about how cancer was in one sense, a gift, because it brought her closer to God. My friend is going to get everything out of life until it is pried out of her hands, but she is ready to go. If Jesus came today, she has her party hat- she is ready.

Then there is my cousin, who died this week. At the age of 41, leaving a husband and three children. And there are those who say how tragic it is that she died "just before Christmas." Does mourning have a season from which we should be exempt? The truth is, my cousin was an alcoholic. For many years now, there have been hospital visits, and downhill slides, and starts in rehab, and failures. And children whose hearts have been broken, and a husband who wonders where the woman he married went. We were a contrast, she and I. Growing up in the 1970's, I envied her- she could get her hair to do the "Farrah Flip." From a wealthy family, she got to go see Peter Frampton live! She married her high school sweetheart. She got everything she wanted. What happened? She once said that getting everything she thought she wanted just didn't turn out the way she thought it would. Family tried everything they knew to avoid this week- everything but God. Christmas was the time to get all of the stuff you just had to have. If Jesus came today, he must be looking for someone else. Somewhere after baptism in 1967, there was nothing to wait for.

This past week, as I was studying for the last exam, I was searching for comfort food, and was feeling neglectful of my family, and decided that if I could spare 15 minutes, I could get a loaf of bread going in the bread machine. That night, my family, who had been feeling the coldness of my preoccupation with school, sat down to dinner of soup and salad with homemade bread! There were happy faces not just because the bread was so delectable, but that it was symbolic of our love for each other. I had thought of them, and I was taking a break from the slog, and they were telling me of their day, in animated ways- we had all emerged from our routine existence to laugh, and joke and share in a meal and prayer.



Magazines and ads exhort us to get everything on our lists, see everywhere we want to see, experience everything on top 10, top 100 charts. And if we don't, will our lives be unfulfilled? Will they fail to have meaning because they are incomplete? Will we be judged on whether we "did Christmas" or any other aspect of our material lives correctly? A simple meal and a prayer. Something that can happen anytime. Not something we do once a year to show we care. Not something that is on a magazine list. Not something that should wait until we are ready. Jesus burst into our midst, not in a flashy show, but in a simple, humble existence. Breaking bread and sharing a meal. Not when we were ready or worthy, but when it was so desperately needed. Not in a one-time performance, but for an eternity of love, grace, mercy and forgiveness.

Will we tell Jesus to come back a little later, when we are ready? Let's hope not. And let's not delay in sharing what we are created to share- love for one another- NOW.

Prayer: Loving God, we rejoice that you so loved us that you did not wait until we were ready or worthy, to send your Son into our midst. We rejoice that your love for us far exceeds our ability to fathom. Help us to stop waiting for just the right time to show others we love them, and to tell them of your unending love for us all. Come Lord Jesus. Amen.

What if...

I spent my first "real" Sunday in my teaching parish, the church on the country road. Having been told I would fill in where the needs were, I knew I would be serving as lay minister, intoning the Kyrie, and the psalm, leading the Prayers of the Church and assisting with Communion. This was my first opportunity to wear my new alb which I had ordered "Qwik-Ship". It came on Saturday ( which of course is better than Monday after the day it was needed). I received comments on how "nice" my alb was. Which for a moment made me chuckle since one rule some women follow is not to wear the same nice dress to more than one occasion, I am engaging in exactly the opposite practice. But it did feel thrilling to be wearing my own alb. For the last many years of serving in my home parish, we all share a collection of albs available for that purpose. Some better than others.

And I was wearing the pectoral cross I got this summer from the Moravian shop nearby which my Mom bought for me. And this felt more than a little ironic since she has not been supportive of this journey of mine. When I saw the cross while we were together this summer, she offerred to buy it for me, not knowing what its purpose would be- to be worn in worship doing the thing she can't believe I gave up a perfectly good legal career for. What if I can't pull this off?

In my teaching parish the altar space is very different to me, and then there is the credence table. The home for all things to be placed on the altar before they are, in a kind of setting of the table. In 18 years I have never had to learn or carry out this practice of "setting the table" because my home parish does not have such a place. What if I make a mess of it, or worse, what if I drop something, or it flies out of my hand. Behind the altar is a framed piece of stained glass, internally lit depicting Jesus on his knees in prayer. What if, in a Monty Python-esque scene, something flies out of my hand and crashes into Jesus?

What if fear strikes me and I canNOT sing the kyrie, or ..

And then I am also to lead the Sunday school class which is made up of only middle school boys whose typical preteen behavior I saw last week. And with the pastor out of the room, they will surely give me a run for my money. What if...

I am sure God gets tired of my "What if I stumble, what if I fall" routine.
It all turned out just fine. In fact there must be grace sufficient because it turned out better than I had hoped. Even the teaching middle school boys part.

This Sunday I am assisting again, and there is a service for healing and laying on of hands. Something else that will be new for me. And something that feels humbling.
Like hearing in homiletics that we are God speaking. We are God healing. I thought I was scared before- that is truly amazing.

Did I think about this before? Yes and no. It is a lot to wrap your mind around.
Thrilling, terrifying. And hard to imagine being anywhere else.

As for the mountain of schoolwork it is there- a looming presence. And there is the new wrinkle of 13 year old angst. She does not want me around, but now that I am not ( i.e. on Sundays while she is still in our home parish for confirmation)- she feels like things are amiss. And we are jockeying for computer time.

This will keep me humble.

SO tomorrow I am off to the parish and then their youth group is going to a corn maze. LC#2 is invited come along and I hope she will.

It is finished! It is just beginning

Summer Greek ended Friday and I have now come home, introduced myself to my family again, and caught up on my sleep, my laundry and my snail mail. But rejoice with me- I made it! Prepare Ye and I were both convinced that we had pretty much messed up on the final ( which of course is closed book). The practical 43 year old in me sarcastically wondered when there would ever be a theological emergency requiring me to immediately translate in Greek from memory in order to save the day. And of course for those of you who have experienced the Croy book, I think he is need of serious pharmacotherapy. Sentences involving dead children, dead holy sisters and evil sinners start to get a little unsettling after a while. Joking aside, I LOVE translating Greek and envision conjuring up the spirit of the time when the texts were written that make up our New Testament. The subtle nuances are fascinating. Learning how to detect the true emphasis of a passage, which is sometimes different than I might have thought is thrilling. It feels vital.
If you are not familiar with the Croy book, say thanks to God and I do not recommend it for light reading.
On a lighter note, the intensity of the summer Greek two week class that jams what other longer classes would cover into a tiny stretch of time is a great way to bond in common adversity with others. We are all in this together is the thought, and, as the Marines put it, we will leave no man behind.
Indeed, we did all make it, and were sorted into two classes for fall. Much to my surprise and to the surprise of Prepare Ye, we placed into the advanced class.
Each day at the opening of class one of the students was chosen to lead prayer. On the day of the big test when we met for the review of the test, one of my classmates, after offering the prayer, closed with leading us all in the prayer Jesus taught us. It brought tears to my eyes as I listened to the instant sense of peace come across the room.
When I came to campus for Greek, I was more than a little stressed about being away from my family for two weeks. As I have said, every one else comes and goes on trips, but I am always the one at home ready to receive them back. To have this role switched was unsettling. Having my husband email to say that he never realized how many little things I do that he never realized was gratifying but bittersweet.
I texted the Chicks and emailed the family while I was away, but while this was somewhat of a respite, you know you just cannot hug an electronic device ( at least not safely).
I often believe that the things in life we experience are a chance to see what we have not seen before and give us tools for the future. This experience allowed me to greater appreciate how people who travel away from family for work regularly must feel in the absences. My father was one of these people, yet when he came home after sometimes weeks on the road, there was always some little trinket he had picked up, and even spending the day with him running errands was time I cherished as a child. I never felt that he was absent from my life. He once had a flight canceled because of snow and he rented the last rental car to drive 12 hours in bad weather to get home for Christmas Eve. I know he must have been anguished and exhausted. But by God's grace he made it to be with us.
And, minus the 13 hours in snow, so it was for me, as I packed my car before the final so I could leave right after class. I had gone to the bookstore and picked up trinkets. And I pulled into the driveway in time to get to the first fall football game where the Lutheran Chicks are in the band. I caught the pregame show. With tears in my eyes I was glad to be home.
My parents have just left to go home to FLA, and we went to church to hear LC#1 cantor, and it is 18 years ago that my beloved and I walked down the aisle together. Last night we celebrated LC#2's birthday 10 days early so we could do it as a family with my parents. A friend of mine has an old Lincoln Towncar stretch limo complete with steer horns on the hood which I decorated and drove us in to go out for Chinese- her favorite food. A spontaneous idea I had that was a great surprise for everyone else.
So this weekend has been kind of a watershed time. I found myself looking back across the years that my sweetie and I have traveled together. The ups and downs, the highs and lows.
We have received great blessings. We have each other, in all of our quirky humor, sharing a love of civil war history, the British Isles and Atlantic Canada. We have been blessed to travel to these places and share wonderful moments ( both before kids and with kids). We share a love of the comic strip "Get Fuzzy" and he will make sure every day that I get to see it. We enjoy books, and music and reading the personal ads in the London Review of Books.
I have learned to cook the things he likes including Chicken Paprikash, even with very potent paprika a co-worker brought us from Hungary. It does not require the same amount in a recipe. I learned this when proudly serving it to our interim pastor, and watching his face immediately turn red, and as he drank about three glasses of water I wondered if it might be too spicy. Miraculously the pastor lived. And my hubby has learned to eat things he would never have eaten growing up.
We share a love of the same music ( most of the time)and the milkcrate of albums he brought into the marriage is still upstairs. Along with the posters of the band "Rush" which are ( to his dismay) not displayed in the house. We have each been the one to bring home a dog who needed a home and you will find us telling stories about them almost as much as we talk about the kids.
But we have also walked the road of a terminally ill parent ( his father)whose service I planned and whose eulogy I delivered because I was the only one who knew his wishes. We have walked the road of getting a call that a parent is in the ER with heart issues ( his mom and my dad), we have walked the road of almost losing LC #1 at birth and diagnosing her learning issues, we have a child whose birthday is September 11th, which in 2001 was hard to deal with. We have walked the road of my uncle taking his life and me packing up my mother to travel a long distance to a funeral that was incomprehensible.
But through all of these things, God has blessed us with each other, and with more than we truly need. And as I have woven my way through discernment to now, he has been my biggest supporter and encourager, often telling me what I need to hear.
And all of this from the man who was not joining a church, just going to humor me.
I came home from Greek to find pizza on the counter, a glass of wine at the ready and flowers in my kitchen window. It doesn't get much better than that.
A time for endings and beginnings. A time to give thanks for the gift of family. And later today, a time to do my Greek homework.