Ala Carte

 I was in the WalMart this morning. It was my first big Church related shopping trip since my strokes. My list was made out in zones, so there would be no crisscrossing the store - hopefully  allowing me to conserve my energy, so I could get it all done. We are having a Family Adventure Day on Sunday - cookout, games, a lesson, crafts, singing, sugar and more sugar, so there was hardly a section of the store that I didn't hit.
   I had the first few items in my buggy when I noticed a middle aged woman staring me down. She took a step towards me, backed up, hesitated, then came towards me - little pamphlet in her hand. "I would like to invite you to my Church" she said - pushing the tract about Salvation into my hand, the name and address of her Church printed in large letters. "How nice of you" I replied, " I am a Children's Minister at another Church here in town - they don't let me out much on Sundays, but thanks for the invitation". I smiled at her as I went past.
   And it hit me....she hesitated before giving me the invitation...she changed her mind, and then she changed it back. What was it about me, that gave her pause....I will readily admit, my white eyelet lace shirt had a wide rounded neckline - a little low, but nothing was showing. My skirt was mid calf length. I was short and roundish, just like the Lady in question. My makeup was light and my jewelry was simple....so just what exactly was she looking for? What made a person worthy of one of the Golden Salvation tickets she had stacked on top of her pocketbook?
   I let my list fall to the bottom of my purse as I walked behind the Lady - interested in seeing who she would invite to her church....she passed right by the group of three young men looking at the peanut butter....they had tattoos. Down the cereal aisle, she went swiftly past a Mother and her 2 children when she heard the Mom say "Put that cereal back...it is too expensive". She didn't even return the brilliant smile of the Black woman in the snappy purple dress topped with a jean jacket and statement necklace. Up and down I followed her....past the Hispanic family laughing and joking with each other, quickly past the group of women sporting Middle Eastern heritage.
   She took a detour around the ragged, grizzled looking man in the wheelchair, and zeroed in on another Mother - faltering only when that Mom backhanded her daughter square in the face because she wouldn't look at a notebook when asked.
   I couldn't follow the Lady anymore.
   As I filled my buggy to overflowing, I looked...really looked at the people I passed along the way. Happy people, dejected people. Dirty, smelly people, overdressed for WalMart people, beautiful women in Hijab, weary looking young Mothers, and sullen, leering men. People of every color, and multiple languages,  A Mom, Dad and two cutey cute children - The Dad was bombastic and overbearing...the Mom quiet, afraid and flinching when the Dad stood by her....old couples, both holding on the buggy, so as not to fall. A woman wearing oxygen and smelling of cigarettes coughed her way to the pharmacy. A girl, younger than any of my grown children, pushing her baby towards the diapers, a homosexual couple, carrying paint chips and arguing over color, a flustered single Dad trying unsuccessfully to deal with three children under 5 - the middle of whom pulled his pants down in the middle of the aisle and demonstrated that he had really meant business when he said he needed to go potty....all different.....all in need of an Assurance - a Hope of Divine Love.
    Who was worthy of the Woman's invitation?
As I headed to the checkout - exhausted because despite my best efforts, I had crisscrossed the store multiple times - I saw the Woman, pamphlets still at the ready, searching seemingly in vain, for the right kind of people..... people that were suitable salvation candidates...

   It is late afternoon, and I still have the lump in my throat...the sick, sad feeling in the deep of my gut. As Christians, we should be dealing in the currency of Love, Grace, Peace and Rest for the weary. We don't get to pick - who is in, who is out.....If we are to live by the Red Words in the Bible, Ala Carte is not an option.
        I despair at what we have done to our world, at how we have perverted and distorted the Gospel....the divisiveness, the hatred of the "other" - humanity's certainty that God hates who we hate.....It may not be politically correct to sing these lyrics anymore, but I have been singing them all afternoon...."red and yellow black and white, they are precious in his sight"...perhaps this old song should make a comeback.
 
   
 
 

Empty grocery bags.

   We got a late start. I fully accept the responsibility for this. The car was loaded, pets fed, breakfast dishes in the dishwasher...John was behind the steering wheel, and Babiest girl was wedged in the backseat - surrounded by pillows, cactus plants and pre-cut, pre-drilled wood planks for the desk hutch. I just stood at the kitchen sink,staring out the window - unable to make my feet move. I knew that the minute I closed and locked the backdoor, nothing would ever be the same again. More than just securing the house against our absence, I was closing the door on 24 years of Mothering - years of unending sleep deprivation, scraped knees, wait to the last minute science projects, Harry Potter movie marathons, puppy piles of kids on the floor, tears, life giving laughter, public fits (theirs of course, not mine) behavior contracts, a front seat sitting schedule - affixed to the dashboard of the van - designed to put an end to the fighting, toy jail, rowdy supper tables, did I mention the laughter? trips to the park (did I take them enough?), chicken pox, bedtime stories and prayers, learners permits, snow days, singing, lazy pool days..... and the love.....oh so much love.
    And while one, or all may come and live here for bits of time in their Adulthood....it will never. be. the. same.       Never. Ever.
   Their new names are Peace Corps boy, Word Traveling Au Pair girl, and now....my babiest....College girl.
   All day yesterday, Freshman move in day at the steamy, dreamy University in the deep south, the soundtrack relentlessly playing on a loop in my mind was that song.....the one that plays while Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are deep in grief at Ron Weasley's desertion in Deathly Hallows part 1....the scene where Harry removes the Hoarcrux from around Hermione's neck, and they dance in the tent....it is a dance full of the sorrow of the moment, yet it captures the joy of being young and dancing - dancing even when the music is sad....perfect for just such an occasion as moving your youngest child into her new home....
   This morning, I woke up with that epic anthem of the 70's "Bluer than Blue" rattling around in my exhausted, stroke riddled brain, and I just can't shake it.....even though I know it was written about a lover, it is so pertinent to this day. "Because I'm bluer than blue, sadder than sad....you're the only life these empty rooms have ever had. Life without you is gonna be, Bluer than Blue".
   It will take me awhile to get accustomed to having adult children....and who the heck is that guy in the chair beside of mine in the den? He has white hair....what?! Didn't he used to have Jet Black hair and dancing eyes? We were sweethearts once.....I remember....but who are we now? In these empty rooms? And what the heck do we talk about? And fill our time with? And how do I just cook for two?

       She will not be happy with me, but I have to share one of my favorite Mother moments.....When she was about 7 or 8, the newly minted College Girl, in that earnest way she had of eloquently expressing herself, took my hand in hers and rubbed it saying - "I love your hands Mommy" (Now let me be clear - I thought she was getting ready to say something about how much they worked for the good of the family, or how she loved it when they brushed her hair, or some such mushiness....). She continued - "They remind me of old grocery bags, that used hold alot of good things, but then somebody took all the things out of the grocery bags, and now they are kind of wrinkled and empty".

  And that is how I feel today....on the first of my empty nest days....like something that used to hold alot of good things, that is now wrinkled and empty.

I marked the page in my Jan Richardson book....the one that has served me so well since my strokes...the page titled "Blessing for coming into an empty house". I marked it, but left it unread until this morning, so that I could reap the full benefits of her wisdom, as I struggle to learn how to dance, even when the music is sad. I offer some snippets of it here, for all of my friends who are entering into this new stage of life....

  "I know how every time you return, you call out in greeting to the one who is not there. I know how the hollow of the house echoes in your chest, how the emptiness you enter matches the ache you carry with you always. I know there are days when the only thing more brave than leaving this house is coming back to it...On those days, may the delight that made a home here find its way to you again, not merely in memory, but in hope, so that every word ever spoken in kindness circles back to  meet you, so that you may hear what still sings to you within these walls, so that you may know the love that dreams with you here, when finally you give yourself to rest - the love that rises with you, faithful like the dawn that never fails to come."

So let it be said.....so let it be done.
Amen.