Sunday ... the fifth Sunday in Lent. Renewal? Maybe not yet. Redemption? Yeh ... ongoing. What am I feeling today? What am I thinking today? Where am I today?
My children are young adults ... and they are both in love. That takes me back to when I was their age -- 20... 21 ... 22. I got married when I was 22. Oh my ... just a month shy of 23. Scare me.
David was 21. We were babies, at least in today's world. Not so much back in 1987. We knew we wanted to be together "forever." We wouldn't dare disrespect our parents or our Lord by living together! We got married. It was wonderful. True love and all that. A lost idea in today's world ... today's world. Ugh. What a disappointing world.
I've been enjoying getting to know the ... what do we call them these days?? Boyfriend/Girlfriend? Other halves? Hmmm. The lovely young adults with whom my children are currently involved. Ugh. That's a mouthful. But I have to protect the identities of the innocent. Ha. Innocent. I hope so ... nonetheless. No names! I have protected my own kids, so I have to protect the offspring of others -- those whom I have never even met. So, I'll call them my extended beloved. And I do love them. :-) Will you be a part of my life in the future? How far into my future? Gone are the days where forever is forever. Enter the days where "forever" is maybe. Kind of. Who knows? Whatever. I'm so sad about this.
And yet I have come to know and love these two beloved who have become constants in the lives of my children. I think they love me, too. With what wisdom or constancy can I embrace them? My home is your home. My God is your God. Will they accept that? Will they love, too? The dog is easy; our God may not be as easily understood.
It's Year A in the Lectionary. Today's Scripture ranges from the raising of Lazarus to the flesh vs. the spirit to the dry bones of Ezekiel. These are all really tough ideas -- what do I believe? What do they believe? What do we believe? We are a family -- I think -- perhaps -- maybe. Joshua 24:15b: '... but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.’ Get used to it.
In the not so distant past, I thought I sort of kind of had a "boyfriend." I never used that term. He used the term "girlfriend" once -- by accident. Then immediately altered the comment to "a girl who is a friend." Ha. I'm no girl. I am entirely woman. Thank you. But there was a hiccup -- a hesitation -- an unsurety. Of course there was. I still kind of sort of feel married! but I'm not. I'm widowed. So is he. He is also a broken person -- one who has known great sorrow -- and great loss. And a bunch of other junk. The junk made him dangerous -- a risk. Good grief. Literally -- grief. He got a pair of handmade socks, a great Bible and a favorite movie -- and some of my heart. His cat got in a few good scratches (I still have the scars) and a catnip toy. He thinks he's still in love with someone else. Aren't we all? David Bailey is no one with whom to be reckoned. I don't think he cares enough to be reading this anyway, so he'll never know. Ironically, it IS in his nature to care. I know this and that's why I gave him as much of my spirit and attention and affection as I did. But he's way behind. Who knows when he'll catch up. Most likely when it's too late. Okay ... where was I going with this?
I dabbled with online dating the other night. Okay ... let's take a moment to collect ourselves. Yes, I know. I can't believe it, either. Two beloved -- very close to me -- have encouraged me to do match.com or whatever. I've always eschewed them. I believed God had someone in mind for me -- would handle this -- ya da ya da ya da. I'm almost 50. For heaven's sake.
I did the whole thing -- the whole profile wizard, etc. etc. etc. -- and even the payment process. Then I totally freaked. I searched high and low for the avenue through which to cancel -- no such luck. I finally found a phone number on the west coast through which I could cancel. I cancelled. I emphatically told the lovely lady on the phone that their billing process was tricky and lacked integrity and I cancelled. Cancelled. Cancelled. She was sad. She commented on how much effort I had put into my profile. OMG. I wept and wept and wept. Is this really my life?
I hope my kids don't read this post. First of all, I don't want them to worry about me. More importantly, I don't want them to be as disappointed in this person for whom they have feelings as I am. I know he loves them. How does he manage this? How can I manage this? I prayed for him today. I can't wish any ill-will upon him. I care about him still. Jesus, help me.
But there's a greater purpose here -- a commentary on friendship -- on relationship. I've been contemplating relationship -- friendship -- lately. What comprises a relationship? A friendship? What do you think? I know what I think!
Does relationship require a certain degree of attention? of communication? If you've read any of my stuff, you know that I think that it DOES. Friendship requires attention, affection and communication. We say that certain people are our "friends," but isn't that really short-changing true friendship? Sure, some of my friends live far away. It is more challenging for us to regularly regard each other. Okay ... but "friends" who live in close proximity to me are people for whom I extend attention -- regard -- care. These are beloved for whom I constantly care. What is constant? Daily? Weekly? Monthly? YES. Any and all of the above. Sure, some are souls who are in my daily or weekly life. Then there are those with whom I spend a little less time -- monthly, perhaps. They don't attend my church, work with me, live near me, etc. But I love them and care about them. Then there are those who, perhaps, live outside of my weekly or even monthly life, but whom I care about a great deal. Of course there are those who live really far away, but for whom I have great affection.
What do we do with those who used to be within that "regular care" circle but who are no longer a part of that circle? Ok ... they're still friends, but distant friends. I have a few of those. Not all of those distant friends are because I wanted them to be "distant," but because they deemed us to be distant. That's life. Move on ...
So the question looms: Who do you love? Who are your true and lasting friends? To whom do you extend your time, attention, affection and grace?
Good question.
How full is your cup? Upon whom do you empty your cup? Who fills your cup? What is your cup?
Just when I think my cup has been "emptied" by a certain friend, she fills it. That's how I know she's a keeper. She's not the only one. There are a few. Most of them are women; not all. My son fills my cup from time to time. David filled my cup just when I thought I couldn't go on. My new pastor fills my cup unknowingly. A sister fills my cup daily. My daughter does, too. But a whole bunch of other people drain it. Some days I am truly running on empty. These are my darkest, lowest days. Those who fill my cup are truly blessed. I hope they know what a gift they are to not only me, but to others who are blessed by the filling of my cup. Does this mean anything to you? The cup?
Yesterday I didn't get dressed. My cup was decidedly empty. I got up. I had breakfast -- and lunch -- even dinner. But I did little else. I did some devotions -- I read a little in my Bible -- I was in touch with a friend, a sister, my kids -- but I wasn't fruitful. No, wait! I took my dog for a walk. I exercised. Got some fresh air. To me, this is a victory. What did you do yesterday? Mow your whole yard? Clean your entire house? Do your taxes? Something huge? When all I did was go for a walk and do the dishes and these were victories? See? Our realities are different. I used to be an achiever. A doer. Now if I get dressed, it is an accomplishment. How does that make you feel? I'm embarrassed.
But not really. I've been "down" here long enough to know that when I actually get out of bed, it's a victory. If I get my dishes done, yay! Some of you understand and are cheering me on. Those of you who don't understand, God bless you. I hope you never have to understand. I reach out every day to my Lord in thanksgiving -- some kind of thanksgiving -- so that I can be in His presence and clamber at that elusive joy that is promised to me. To those of you who don't have to claw and clamber, rejoice wholly. I wish I were in your shoes ... really. But in my own shoes, I know the grace of God's mercy to the least of us. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.
Isaiah 53;5 But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
6 All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have all turned to our own way,
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
