I’ve been in a funk for awhile now. It mainly impacts my motivation to get the little things done…the laundry and the dishes and the making-dinner-kind-of-things.

The thing with a funk is that it is hard to pinpoint. I’m not completely depressed, or completely overwhelmed, or even just completely sad.

I think a funk has a touch of all those things. Plus tiredness. And mopiness (how on earth do you spell that?!)

Maybe, possibly, this is because I’ve heard of so many little ones lately who are struggling simply to survive. To live through the weeks of infancy.

There is Andrew who was waiting for heart. He received the heart transplant, but now struggles to get the kidneys back in line and the heart beating to the right rhythm. I can’t imagine the stress of his journey on his family.

There is Asher….he was born with his intestines forming on the outside of his body. He had one AMAZING surgery and seemed to be growing and doing well. But now, at just 5 months old, he has been diagnosed with leukemia.

Baby Pearl was mentioned in our prayers this morning at church….that God would be gracious however many days she has.

There are many more in the list of people who need our prayers, who are struggling through the days with mind-numbing illnesses and pains and fears and struggles.

The funk settles in.

I think, as well, my mom’s dementia impacts me more than I want to admit. There is that sense that if we begin to weep or mourn or allow the fullness of the situation to impact us that we won’t be able to stop. And we have to stop because there is laundry to do and dishes and making-dinner-kinds-of-things.
That is why my Dad amazes me…because he never gets a break from the situation, and for the most part he wouldn’t want one. There are times it is frustrating, and times he is glad to go to the office, but for the most part he wants to be with Mom because he loves her. Even though it is overwhelming sometimes and sometimes it just flat hurts.

I think I am beginning to understand that the funk settles in when the needs around us are overwhelming and we don’t allow ourselves the freedom to feel. To mourn. To weep even though it may be hard to stop. Because, I think, we are meant to feel the weight of our brokenness and to know that we need to help. We need to not run from it.

We need to declare that this is not right, this is not what we are meant for….this brokenness is….broken.

There is something deep in us that knows that there is something more whole, more beautiful, more full, more pure, more life-filling than anything we can imagine…and we long for it when we are faced with babies whose intestines are on the outside or whose hearts don’t work right. Or when we are faced with strong, amazing, beautiful, wise women who don’t know that the baby in their arms is their grand-daughter…the only daughter of their only daughter….

And it’s okay to feel funky on Monday. But maybe we need to let ourselves feel more than funky so we can move to feeling the impact of a God who saves us from the brokenness and who will make all things new.

I am aware that I have not written for almost a month. The fact is, I have not been able to bring together my thoughts clearly, at least not in a way to write on a blog.

Since the last article I’ve prayed deeply for a little baby waiting on a heart. Waiting on another to not survive, so that little Andrew might. What a terrible ache both parents must feel…and what a piercing example of the brokenness of our world. He did receive his heart and he is recovering. And his eyes still capture my attention.

He has been the reason I pop on FaceBook, breaking my fast. To check and see if he survived another night, another day. Then, when I flew to Albuquerque with Maddie to celebrate the life of my Uncle who had passed away, late at night I saw the post that Andrew was on his way into surgery. Great delight. Great sadness for another family…a nameless family.

So, I did not make it cleanly in my Facebook fast, although I did refrain from posting and commenting other than just a few important moments.  The fast showed me something…I’m not sure that I contemplated Jesus as much as I had hoped (although, I did contemplate more than I have in recent months)…I realized how much I had been caught up in thinking of activity in light of how it can be shared.

Hmmm…I should share this on FaceBook. I wonder how I could word this to be witty or sincere or somber….how can I condense the important things of the moment into a blurb that grabs attention.

It actually took me a few days, even weeks, to get out of that mindset. I am not avidly on FB, but I’m on a fair bit, and I was a little taken aback that I had stepped into that type of thinking. There is more there that I want to think about…but not today.

Today is Maundy Thursday.  Lent is almost over. Passion week is coming to its climax.

I almost missed it.

Even with fasting and thinking and reading and contemplating and waiting….I was startled today that it is Maundy Thursday.

The disciples are about to celebrate the first Lord’s Supper. To hear the news that one will betray.  To walk the path with Jesus to the cross.

To deny Him.

To see Him beaten.

To hear the crowd cry Crucify.

To see Him die.

It’s now. All the rambling about Lent, all the discussions about whether fasting is worthwhile or self-righteous…it is time to be quiet.

The moment eternity hinges on is upon us. That is staggering. It should make our hearts race a bit.

The Savior of the world. The Creator of the world.  The baby has grown, His hands are calloused, His feet have walked miles, His mouth has spoken wisdom and compassion. His moment has come.

I almost missed it. This has been a hectic week, and although FaceBook has not been a distraction much…life has.

I want to whisper….I want to be quiet….I want to listen.

I want to listen to what they are saying at the table….I want to hear their confusion as Jesus says one will betray Him. The confusion as He washes their feet. The confusion as the guards come to the garden.

All the preparation of fasting and thinking….it’s about to explode in the celebration and the remembrance and the moment of everything changing.

The Son of God on a cross. The Chosen One.   He changes everything.

Maundy Thursday.

Here is the source of every sacrament,

The all-transforming presence of the Lord,

Replenishing our every element

Remaking us in his creative Word.

For here the earth herself gives bread and wine,

The air delights to bear his Spirit’s speech,

The fire dances where the candles shine,

The waters cleanse us with His gentle touch.

And here He shows the full extent of love

To us whose love is always incomplete,

In vain we search the heavens high above,

The God of love is kneeling at our feet.

Though we betray Him, though it is the night.

He meets us here and loves us into light.

Malcolm Guite