Month: February 2018

An Odd Thanksgiving: Two Powerful Lenten Experiences:

The year Zekey died, it snowed all winter. We had snow on the ground from November well into March. Andy and Breena had been with us since the preceding August. Cyrus and Eisley were in school, but that winter it seemed like they rarely went because of school delays or closings. Bexley (then 2) spent her days lying alongside Zekey who was camped in a bed by the window which looked out at the woods in our front yard. It seemed like they watched an endless loop of Lightning McQueen and Daniel Tiger. There was so much laughter coming from that bed – Bexley giggling and Zeke laughing at whatever show he was watching at the time. He couldn’t talk with words, but his laugh was riddled with meaning.

I cannot now remember when Easter was that year, but I’ll never forget Ash Wednesday. By this time we knew that Zekey would not be with us long. Andy brought him forward during our service that evening to receive the ashes and to hear the words: “From dust you came, to dust you will return”. Most of the church watched as Andy carried him forward, and we all wept at the reality of what was being done and said over him. His mortal body would soon be gone, but his immortal soul would be eternally yoked to Jesus – the one for whom we walked this Lenten journey.

The second profound Lenten experience happened a year later for me. My great friend and mentor had fallen and broken her hip a week after Zekey’s funeral and the next year was spent trying to find good care for her and to be with her as she prepared to leave this world for another. She had spent her life helping people prepare for death and resurrection. In her books and in her ministry the message of the Cross was central to all she did. In my own life, it was her message and ministry of Christ’s coming, his suffering, his death and resurrection that fully awoke in me the promise of wholeness. I remember hearing her speak for the first time, and thinking to myself – I have no idea what this woman is talking about but I desperately want what she has. It was like listening to the beauty of another language (French in particular!) and saying to myself – I want to, no I need to, learn that language.

She died on Ash Wednesday 2015. As she left this world for the eternal company of God – she brought home to those of us gathered around her, that indeed from dust we come, and to dust we return. Just as she had done in life, she did so in death: she bore witness to the promise of wholeness for the whole of our beings – our minds, our souls, our bodies, our spirits. She suffered, as Zekey did in the last months of her life, but it never diminished her soul’s capacity for joy.

These two Lenten experiences have made me very grateful for the walk to Resurrection Sunday. I can acknowledge my great dependence on Christ, and I can acknowledge my body’s frailty. I can yield my will’s inability to be who God has called me to outside of that total dependence on him. I can affirm that while the body may die, my soul like Zekey’s and Leanne’s will be tethered for all eternity to the great love of the Father, through the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ.

I’ve been waiting to be inspired for this week’s gratitude prompt – and a part of me thinks – “how in the world are you going to come up with 52 “original” prompts for gratitude this year?” Of course I need to be original and profound – which sorta sets me up for failure – since being grateful is not about profundity but about grace. It’s grace to be present to all that is going around us and to see God’s hand in it whether or not we bubble up with joy.

A hot topic these days (the cold snowy days of February) is of course the weather. How much snow, just how cold is it going to be, and what, another day off school (great for teachers, not so great for parents!)!

When I was eight years old my father moved us from our hometown of Charlotte NC (in the heart of the Southeast) to a suburb outside of Philadelphia. My mother agreed to go but in our eight years there she had a deep disdain for “Yankeeland” as she called it and the people who lived there – “those damn Yankees!”.  My mother was also an alcoholic and while the weather obviously wasn’t the cause of it I do think that if she had lived here in the 21^st century she might very well have been treated for depression or quite possibly with SAD (seasonal affective disorder).  The dark cold days after Christmas do indeed affect people in so many ways. I personally love the moodiness of rain (blame my Scottish heritage), the deep drifts of snow (as I look at it from my nice warm chair) and the crisp, sometimes sunny air of winter! If you were to ask me what season might drive me to depression I would have to say the hot humid 90 degree temperatures of August!

Please know I am not taking weather related depression lightly; I grieve for my mother thinking she might have had a very different life if she had been aware of her seasonal triggers. So, where am I going with this? Perhaps those of us who struggle with winter might find something to be grateful for in the midst of it? Many of us find it no struggle at all to thank God for bracing winds and snow capped fields. For that we can give thanks. Like last week’s prompt there is something liberating in looking up and out of our circumstances and be grateful in the midst of those circumstances. Perhaps you’ve found a secret to making it through to May (let’s face it, we have had snow in April before!) And the rest of us might pause and think about and pray for those people for whom Winter is truly depressing.  What do you think?