Today is Good Friday, one of the most important days of the Christian church calendar. I would love to go to church today, if I had a church I felt I belonged to. I remember the first Good Friday service I went to, taken by a family friend because I was in confirmation classes at the time and it was "required" but my parents had to work, and it was the first time in my memory that the crucifixion actually registered in my mind as to what this day was all about--the horror, the pain, the suffering, the ugliness of the act, and it nauseated me, but it also filled me with awe, being the precursor to the ressurection and the Easter celebration. To this day, my imagination fills in the blanks of what the scripture outlines in ways no graphic movie could (and I still refuse to watch the movie "The Passion of the Christ" by Mel Gibson, because of it's graphic nature). It leaves me with a sense of awe and wonder at that kind of love, that kind of sacrifice. Just as being pregnant with Liisa over the Christmas season that first year of my marriage in 1983 clarified for me the thoughts and experiences of Mary and the birth of her son, so the year my son was in Iraq, willingly taking on the role and responsibility of a soldier, clarified for me Mary's struggle as her son also took on the burdens of protecting those he loved (in a much smaller, and less finite scale, of course). But I too have stood at the foot of the cross as a mother and prayed for grace, for mercy, for forebearance, and for acceptance of God's will, whatever it might be. It is a place we all, as human beings stand from time to time, a place where our own helplessness forces us to raise our eyes and our hearts to God, knowing he has a plan for us and that the outcomes may be far different than what we foresee for ourselves.
Brie asked the other day if we were going to church on Sunday. My thought is "probably not" because I don't want to be a hypocrite and attend service in a place I am only doing lip service to, and I haven't yet found a church "home". I have been reading my devotional daily again, something that is helping to ease the space in my heart that has been restless, and my faith is the bedrock of my existance. But I want to be somewhere that reflects the love of God in word, actions, and emotions, and I haven't found that place yet. Still, God is bigger than any one building or community, and so I come to Him sitting outside on my swing with my knitting or handwork, or walking the neighborhood with Skye in her stroller, as well as sitting quietly with my thoughts here in the house, lifting prayers as people cross my mind, events occur that I am unsure of, or to offer thanks and praise for blessing large and small. My faith permeates my day and my conversations with God are constantly in the small recesses of my thoughts.
I had a conversation along these lines with Rei and Patrick yesterday as we ran some errands. At the orthodontist's office was a teen who was developmentally disabled. She was playing in the playroom when we arrived, and she seemed captivated by Rei. He responded to her so gently and genuinely that I saw her mother smile in relief at his acceptance of her attentions, and when I commented on it afterwards to him in the car, he said that he has come to enjoy being around, and helping the special needs kids in the special ed classrooms he has to interact with during certain activities with his current school program. He has made friends with, and has been asked to partner with specific students who are developmentally delayed and he finds satisfaction and pleasure in seeing how they progress and respond under his assistance, and it made me smile, which is when I shared with him that it is in activities like those my faith, values, and belief systems are being lived out rather than just being talked about (walking the walk). I explained that that was how I viewed my work at the treatment center, and at the hospitals and private homes I worked in in the past; and how it costs so little to treat others with dignity and respect, especially when they are often not treated kindly because of their obvious differences. It was such a nice moment to share with them, and even though Patrick didn't participate in the conversation much, he was there taking it all in and nodding his head. I love those opportunities when they come up, to share, to teach, to explain. Especially when I don't always fully understand myself, until I am trying to struggle to put it into words.
This Lenten season has been a season of thoughtfulness, along with the stresses and changes and uncertainties it has also contained, and I find the older I get, the more I appreciate the messages of these seasons in the church and the sureties they offer to those who believe. In spite of my homesickness at times for MN, I feel blessed to know that my family celebrates and shares the same stories, values, and morals we were brought up in, and it is a reward in and of itself to see those being passed on to the next generation of children, and this is equally true of my bonds with my "new" family, things I hope I am sharing with the children here, that are being passed down to Skye as well. I am not even close to doing it "perfectly," but I am doing it with love, and with honesty. That is the best I have to offer, but it is enough.
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