“How long do we hope?” “How long do we hate?”

     Today marks an important milestone for me. Today I have come to understand that I’ve been asking myself to try to look in opposite directions at the same time. I’ve been expecting my heart to stay focused on what has been and what is present now.  Today I have come to understand that I can’t do it, it’s just not possible. And today I’m living into the truth that I no longer really want to.

     “How long do we hope?” “How long do we hate?” These two questions were asked in A Trick of the Light by Inspector Gamache. And I find myself wondering the same.

     How long do we hate? Five year ago today I lived through a life-changing event. I was, without any warning "let go" from a job that I loved and that had come to be home for me. Five years ago I lost my home row (Editor’s note: When I took typing in high school a hundred years ago {back in the days of white-out} our teacher taught us that “if your fingers started wandering off and your typed words were no longer comprehensible, then return to your home row: a s d f j k l ]. That Monday morning five years ago, I found myself devastated and had lost my home row. When the dust began to settle, I realized that I experienced a life-shift. What had been true and certain the day before was no longer that. The job that I felt called to do was gone. And I felt so much hate. How long?

     And in the hours, days, months, years since I have learned so many life-lessons. I’ve learned about grace and mercy, about strength and resilience, about grief and healing. And I claimed these five truths: 
          I didn’t die that day (even though I truly felt that I had). 
          God is bigger than the institution of the church. 
          Children listen and follow your lead. 
          Things are stronger in the places they are broken (another Armand Gamache quote).
          Love is greater than hate.

     How long do we hope? This morning, five years to the day that I believed my world had ended, John Brogan was confirmed. This morning he joined NDPC where our family attends. He’s struggled long and hard with this decision. But/and what brings balance and thankfulness, joy and hope is that his struggle doesn’t seem to have been much about my previous struggle from years’ past. This morning his struggle has been about the three questions of faith asked of him: renouncing sin and evil, believing in Jesus as Lord and Savior and entering fully into the community of faith. As it should be.

     Hate. Hope. Home.

     How do we find our way home again? Today has been a good day, an important day, a rejoicing day. Today I was reminded of the strength of our sons, both Brogan and Sam. Today I felt the gift of family and graceful friends who continue to love us in and through life. Today as I held Linda’s hand I was so very grateful for the life we have created and continue to create. Today I felt held in God’s grace, and I felt that I was returning back home.

     We plan, God laughs. How long do we hate? Too long – the cost to ourselves and those who love us is too great. Too long – we waste our precious lives and miss out on so much beauty and laughter. Too long – we forget the priceless gift of trust. 

     How long do we hope? Just a little bit longer...This morning in church five years to the day, I was reminded that we are all being carried by a river of grace. We've been invited into this great Mystery and called to attend to it as it is always attending to us.

     If your story knows my story, I wish you courage and strength enough to find your way home again. Today I can truly say that I believe anything is possible, because as John Brogan wrote in his statement: "I believe in the compassion I see whenever I'm in this church." As it should be.

   Here's to you, Barbara Ann. You continue in my heart and on my mind.
   Began working on the next book and the working title is "Grief and the Psalms: Companioning the Moon for 29 Days."  It makes perfect sense to me that Mom's was the first chapter written. Thank you, Mom for loving me so well. I miss you everyday.
                             +++++++++++++
(First day in the Waxing Moon Days)
Psalm 90:12   Teach us to count our days that are ours, and we shall come to the heart of wisdom.

                                           Time is Different Here
     A few months after my mother died, I heard her voice as clearly as if she were standing beside me. “Time is different here,” she said. Four words. Simple, clear. Powerful, reassuring. And her words have been a comfort a guide ever since.
     So much of our days are spent racing against the clock or wishing for time to stand still. We long to be in control of these days we’ve been given. Chronos time is wristwatch time, calendar time, measureable-time. Grief time, God’s time is chairos time. It is the time in-between time. It is the time holding time.
     Sitting vigil with a loved one who is dying is chairos time. It can be exhausting and also the most precious, most holy time of our lives. We find ourselves breathing with the one who is leaving. There is so much to say and our words feel both so very intimate and yet not enough. Time is different….here.
     Counting our days and then coming to this time when we find ourselves counting our breaths, draws us unto the presence of the Holy. It is here in this place closest to the heart of wisdom that we draw near to the comforting grace of God. It is here where we catch a glimpse of the lifelove that has held us with each breath and will hold us until our last. And (as I’ve heard from Mom) beyond that.

                                        “time is different”   “here”

Wondrous God, teach us to count our days and to live into the beauty of this day. Draw us closer to you and to the grace and mercy as close to us as our next breath.  Amen.