I looked in his direction, what do you mean? And then he told me. Not what I wanted to hear. I wish I could write now right here what that feels like, but I know I have to wait. Still I have to say something today. Nothing in the world is permanent except God. His words reminded me of that truth. Nothing outside of God is reliable or trustworthy, nothing that can't happen or won't happen. Some people can read those words and grow sad. Others will read them with renewed energy. And I was filled with emotions and awe at how life plays itself out for each of us, bringing things we want and things we don't want...but all of it is gift. And it is always our job to say thank you.
I was just looking at some amazingly beautiful pictures of a recent camping trip and thinking about the times I visited those places and what was happening back then, the smells, the feel of the air on my face and in my lungs and how...it seems that every place I go, I never want to leave. There is just never enough time for me to absorb it all....all that God has to offer in each moment daily. The only option I have is to drink deeply from the well, pick up my back pack and move on. There is no real standing still when living life. What I mean is not that one rushes through life, but that even in our stillness, we are moving always...closer to or farther away from God...only when the blood stops flowing in and out of our heart and our bodies wear out...and even then, if we have faith...we don't stop moving.
My heart hurts at the thought of some changes ahead. But that is the nature of loving people. And good love never really holds on or stands still. It is like breathing...and unceasing taking in and giving away. And by receiving it and letting it go, we live well.
The boy I carried on my back, my son, in the beautiful cave one Sunday morning back in 1983 now has a wife and five children...and a dog. It's his turn to carry life around, to love that life and then let it fly.
He told me I would never be a nun. I told him I knew that already. He told me he visited with people I had prayed with. He told me I was gifted and that my work would be different. And then he told me so much more. I kept glancing at the clock. He probably thought I was getting bored. I wanted the clock to stop. I didn't talk much. Too many thoughts. And I realized how he had gifted my life even when I didn't know he was there.
There is so much risk when we enter into each other's lives. We don't know what will happen when we get there. That is the really cool part about being a priest or a minister. We have been given the grace by God to enter intimately into other people's lives. I recall Garrison Keillor telling a story about how unpleasant it was to talk with a priest or a minister: "You know those guys, they take your hand...they look you in the eye...and you can't escape" They ask how you are and mean it. They look for your truth. And they want to help you to see it. So you can dance again.
In my heart I have pictures of yesterday. The whole day. All the people in it. And I know that he was right. He taught me so much yesterday. Lots of theology and law and a whole bunch of opinions about the world. It will take me a long time to assimilate it all. To understand what God might want me to do with all that new data.
Great and holy moments of this sanctuary God gave me, to bless and be a blessing. What was, is no more. Tomorrow waits with its gifts, asking me to go there.
Only next time, I must remember the potatoes.
Love, Cindy
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