Bearing our Grief; Carrying our Sorrow. A Note from Jan. Jud's Journal Entry Thirty-nine.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Something to be said for habits. Routines carry us when our thinking’s muddled. Today was Sunday. Church.

Jud loved The Church, pews filled with the curious and anxious. Filled with sinners, sick folks, outliers and liars … and even some who seem ok, at least from the outside. No surprise there. Folks like us … since WE are The Church.

Lily and I led the caravan of family to Christ Church in Hamilton, where we attend. Our membership’s still at Grace Chapel in Lexington. Both places anchor me these days.

Last night, Judy Gaede, my friend for the better part of 40 years, pressed some Sunday into Saturday night when she delivered dinner to us We feasted on roast beef, REAL mashed potatoes, green bean casserole. I was a preacher’s kid again. Mama’s Sunday dinner showed up except for her red Jell-O with fruit cocktail trapped inside.

Last night’s expanded table welcomed Amit and Para, Marshall and Yadira, Chad and Kristina, Heather and Matt, Lily, Luke, Fred and me. Younger ones, fed earlier, watched a video downstairs.  DESPICABLE ME, I think, or, as Kate calls it, “Miss Pickable.” Which she is. In the afternoon, John and Dawn scooped up these little ones so old friends could enjoy uninterrupted conversation … adult talk  … complete sentences. Part of the Gloucester NET!

Bound by love for each other and love for Jud, we gathered from different backgrounds and religious traditions. Jud loved these times with friends of our children. The good food.  Lively conversation.  Easy banter. The not-so-easy questions. This time, they came bearing the gifts of our shared history AND gourmet doughnuts from NYC. We stayed long at table.

I love the word STAY. Coming to the table and staying a while. The Italians know how to do that. Something reinforced for me in Orvieto, Italy. No rushing through a meal to get to an event. The meal IS the event. Talking, discussing, disagreeing and staying.

Jud helped me learn to sit, to stay, be still. At least Still-er. He modeled a grace-full resistance to fear—whether fear of the unanswerable, or of different opinions. He was untroubled by contradiction, change, loss of control. Comfortable with silence, mystery.

His life showed me a better way. Riskier but better. Stay. Listen. Learn. Love.

When the evening ended, Amit and Para and their two little girls drove to Gaynelle’s house In Rockport. A few days before, Gaynelle had said, “If you have friends and family who need a place to STAY, I have two bedrooms.” Warmly welcomed, they stayed the night. So like a NET holder. So like The Church. Welcoming strangers. A sleeves-rolled-up kind of loving.

This afternoon, I stayed back while the family went to Salem to see Maggie perform as one of the WHOs in Seussical, the Dr.Suess musical. I needed to withdraw from crowds, even small groups. One person felt like too many today.

Drove home from church. Straightened up a bit. Then put on a CD before heading to Jud’s chair in the Snuggery—a very small room just big enough to read or watch the Patriots.  (They won! Matt, Luke and I watched a recorded version tonight.) The Snuggery got its name after I saw a similar room at Hyde Park. Jud never uttered the word; just gave me ‘that look’ whenever I did.

THAT LOOK. Come back! Roll those eyes. Look at me again, until my sight clears of this mist and fog.

When I fell into Jud’s chair, it hit me. Again. That missing person. The chair stayed. But Jud’s gone. Weeping. It endures for more than a night. “I can’t do this, Jesus.” “I can’t do this, Jud.” So intertwined in my prayers Jesus/Jud.

Then some more Sunday showed up. Strains of glorious music from The Messiah on CD. “He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” Surely. For the better part of an hour I slept, enveloped in sung truth. I sensed Jesus listening with me, singing His heart into me. Sharing my sorrow and grief. Staying.