Inside Out. A Note From Jan.
It snowed Sunday…”The Lord’s Day.” Again. Good news for those who wanted to break the all-time snowfall record in Boston. Broke it with over 108 inches…making it the snowiest “evah.” I’m into Spring more than records. At least it covered the dirty, sandy mounds with fresh frosting. Ocean went invisible for awhile. Fog, I think. Not a white out.
Must be under more stress than I realized. As we were leaving church, Kristina, loving truth teller, said, “I believe your pants are on inside out.” Well, she believed correctly. Made me wonder what else is inside out about me and if that’s all bad?
I blame it on speed. Not THAT kind…the hurrying kind I was doing to get to church on time. Turned them inside out last night to freshen them up. “To (air) is human.” Slipped them on quickly this morning. Obviously.
Cried on the way to church. Miss Jud so much on Sundays. Parked. Blew my nose, then smiled when I saw the family arriving. Not trying to fake it. They know I cry and blow my nose a lot. Smile came from the joy of seeing them. Kris and Mike Reid and their brood of four joined us. Felt good to be squished together in the pew.
Old friends were there, as well. David and Joyce Dixon (Babette’s parents for Gordon alums) sat down front with Alice and Randy Matthews. Those four served many years as missionaries in France. David and Jud grew up together in Fall River. Comforting connection with history. Jud’s. And mine. Reminisced over dinner with them last Saturday night. Missed Jud.
At the conclusion of the service we stood and sang, ”Lift High the Cross.” Since we attend the family service, words show up on a large screen. The bad news is that the person attending to the projector fell behind, swirling verses back and forth. So the words on the screen never synced with what those holding onto hymnals and history were singing.
The good news: all joined in with gusto and relief when it came to the refrain at the end of each verse. “Lift high the cross The LOVE OF CHRIST proclaim, Till all the world adore HIs sacred name.”
Rev. Dean Borgman preached. His message underscored “the love of Christ proclaim.” Easy to catch that message from him, even without words, since the love of Christ comes through him Sunday after Sunday and in between. Now in his eighties, Dean exudes such love for each of us, especially the young. He preaches every Sunday he’s there, through his smile, kindness, compassion, and unconditional love. I marvel that he kneels and gets back up. Easily.
I’d like to be more like that. Christ visible. Not good enough for just my pants to show up inside out.
4 Comments
We loved the service -- and seeing you again. Did not notice the pants. I guess we were just looking at your face, so lovely, and those of others.
About eating alone on Sunday. In our first months in France, though we were two, we were far from our families and missed them so much on Sundays especially. I guess that is just a time when families want to be together, a time to share. We had been married only six months, so had only a slight accumulation of memories to share. Discussing the difficulties of French verbs grew old very quickly. Ours was not at all your experience, but still, we can grasp a tiny bit that Sunday afternoons can be lonely. And I wish we had been able to meet that need.
We love you, David and Joyce
well at least you remembered to put the pants on….
;-)
Meg
To "air" is human..... You crack me up! :D
Jan, with each entry, I see two small books in your future:
1. Dealing with terminal illness as a family
2. Dealing with the grief process
Your journal entries are already 80% of the books that would help so many who haven't been blessed by this Caring Bridge.
When you get your pants on right for 4 weeks in a row, you will be ready! :)
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