Sacred Relationships

The White Bags and the Ones that Hold Them

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They were everywhere.  Some were held tightly to the chest as if the heart needed it close by.  Some were laying on the ground as if they were too heavy to hold. Mine was in the chair next to me.  The white plastic bag held my husband’s blue pajama pants I gave him a few Christmases ago and his Wake Forest sweatshirt.

They had been stuffed in the bag as he put on the surgical gown for his emergency appendectomy.  All that he came into the hospital with was now in that white bag.  My mind wandered past the front desk, down the hall, through the secured doors, and into the operating room where he lay on the surgical table.  A doctor himself, he was not the healer in this moment.  He was the one being healed.  And all I had of him was stuffed in a white plastic bag. Continue reading

Friendship: the Worship of Our Very Lives

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On our way to our table for three, we have already begun our worship.  We open the menus and we begin with praise – sharing stories from the latest happenings from the day or tales of the latest mishaps in ministry.  We laugh and we nod in understanding.  We order our drinks, place our lunch orders, turn in the menus, and move into confession.

Taking turns, we look to one another and ask – “So, how are you doing?”  If the first attempt does not open the floodgate, we entertain the response and then prod further with another, “how are you really doing?”  Slowly and carefully, one will unpack the latest stresses, fears, and wonders of our lives.  The two listening will lean in and remain quiet.  Nodding their heads, they hold the words and feelings gently.

Avoiding the traps of advice or dismissal or belittling, we move into proclamation.  We seek to shed light on the darkness of our confessions.  We try to drain the power of the gremlins that too often rule our thoughts.  We ask questions.  We look for where hope is growing.  We hold in our hands the grief of one another.  We mourn our inability to grant another’s dream or fix another’s brokenness.  When we cannot find the words, we just sigh. Continue reading