Not This Way

Not This Way

I’ve been meeting weekly with a man who is in hospice over the last two months.  It has been hard for me to watch him grow weaker.  I’m sure that it is even much more difficult for him to experience his own body giving out on him.  A couple of weeks ago, he said, “You know.”  There was a long pause.  Some of that is that he doesn’t have the strength for long sentences, but more of it was him taking the time to reflect and then admit out loud, “This wasn’t in my plans.”

The reality is that God allows things to happen in our lives that remind us that we never really were in control, even though we convince ourselves otherwise.  But it is never just a wrestling match, like our own experience of Jacob and the Angel.  There is always more to it.  God doesn’t need to see that He is in control.  He knows.  What we won’t know, this side of the resurrection, is how God works through us to call others back into, or deeper into relationship with Him.  There will be some gesture, some word, some small act in how this man walks this hard road, or even the reality that someday soon he will no longer be present here with us, that will significantly impact someone else’s faith journey. 

About three weeks ago, only about twenty minutes into my morning walk, I felt the sunshine that had been warm on my back suddenly cool noticeably.  I turned around to see that some dark clouds had appeared on the horizon and blocked the sunshine that had been flooding the morning.  I should have watched for a bit longer because I quickly came to the conclusion that I would have plenty of time to finish my usual walk at my usual pace.  I was still a mile away from home on my return when the rain hit.  I say “hit” because there were no preliminary sprinkles.  One step and all was dry; the next step the clouds split open and large raindrops pelted down.  By the third step, all was drenched.  But the air and the rain were warm, so in spite of the inconvenience of being soaked through, it wasn’t all that bad, even though that last mile wasn’t exactly the way I planned it.

Yesterday, shortly before supper, ominous steel gray clouds riding a burst of cold northwest wind, blocked the sun, as if day and summer were suddenly over.  The temperature dropped another twenty degrees during the night and a hard cold rain pounded down for a couple of hours.  I woke to listen to it and I was thankful to not be out in it.  I pulled up the quilt.  Surely there will be some beautiful late summer, early autumn days to come, but you wouldn’t hope it too loudly if you were looking out the window with me this morning.  Sullen would be a good one-word description.    

I have been watching the hummingbirds this dreary morning.  There has been almost a continuous parade coming to the feeder.  They migrate early; they are among the first birds to leave.  I know they are getting ready.  Because they are among the first it feels more in my heart like abandonment than migration.  I’ll leave the feeder out until I don’t see any hummers for a week.  How can something so tiny leave the world so empty with its absence?       

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan

Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash

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