I started to write the last night. I had thoughts in mind, things stirring in my heart, but no time to get them down on paper.
I planned to sit today and enjoy a cup of coffee, giving time and space to these thoughts and grabbing a chance to write here on the blog again.
Then I woke and heard the news this morning.
Heartbreaking, overwhelming news.
I thought about what had sparked my desire to return to writing.
And then I realized what I wanted to write last night was exactly what I needed to write this morning.
That cookie, and my eating it, is a sacred act.
You see, I ate that cookie to hold a memory my mother cannot hold any more. The memory that she loved macadamia nut cookies. The memory of things that brought delight and a moment of splurge. I could do the same with a Payday candy bar. That cookie is sweet in a deep way…because it holds the reality of a broken world, of a woman who delighted in good things, and memories.
That’s a lot for a cookie.
We need those sacred moments. Walking through the grocery store and catching sight of something which can bring you up short. Allowing the pain of what is lost, and the delight of what has been, to mingle in the act of eating a cookie.
That is sacred.
So what does it have to do with today?
Mom’s Dementia, the horror of Las Vegas last night…they force our awareness of the broken state of our world. We know this, of course, but sometimes we are struck forcefully by how fragile we are, and how desperately in need of rescue.
We have to watch in the midst for grace, for humor and for rescue. We have to carry on. (Yes, I’m listening to Rich Mullins at the moment). There will be moments the brokenness is so raw it will break our hearts.
There will be moments we need to weep. Moments we need to see those around us and their pain…and in those moments we need to be so thankful for those we can turn to for comfort and grace.
“The mercy of the world is time. Time does not stop for love, but it does not stop for death and grief, either.” – Wendell Berry
There will be new memories, and there will be another sunrise and another sunset. I like very much, however, what Berry says here:
“New grief, when it came, you could feel filling the air. It took up all the room there was. The place itself, the whole place, became a reminder of the absence of the hurt or the dead or the missing one. I don’t believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and grieve alike endure.”
We carry on. The next sunrise helps us. But then we see something or hear something and our breath is taken away afresh.
But we will dance again.
We will laugh again.
“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” – Buechner
I know…probably the tenth time I have used that quote. Maybe Buechner can say that because of this…
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be r I g, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Rev 21:4
So. A cookie and a tragedy and a mother who cannot remember. They are all tied together because of a God who sees, who knows and who will one day set things right. Today, let’s find the sacred around us, let’s comfort those who weep, and let’s carry on. Grace upon grace for those around us today.