A gift of time and other discoveries...

Today, as I sat on the end of my mother's bed, and gave approval for what she chose to keep, and encouragement for what she suggested might be thrown out, I realized that I had slid again into my parallel career. What could I possibly call it? Trash overseer? Encourager of the faint hearted? Garbage bag junkie?

When my children were little we had a ritual that took place at least twice a year. I would go to their bedrooms with a garbage bag and a box and we would sit together and sort through their 'stuff'... We'd review it all lovingly: the favourites (to keep), the slightly-tired-of (to put aside in the box and bring out again in a few month's time) and the unredeemable! (There were actually 2 categories for the unredeemable - some went directly to the trash, and some was given away to the charity de jour.)

Through the years I've sat honour guard on this same ritual for a long list of friends, one husband-to-be, one step-daughter, 2 retiring priests and seemingly endless bosses and acquaintances. What in the world do you suppose fits me so well for this roll? I'm thoroughly nonplussed ... sometimes it's pretty boring, but mostly it's surprisingly interesting, as folks share their stories and their treasures and I offer some appropriate support for their decisions.

BUT ... while spending this unanticipated week with Mom, first playing Nurse Nancy, and gradually moving out of the way as she recovered from her crisis of low heart rate, I have discovered Madeline l'Engle! Where has she been all my life? Sure, sure, I heard of her before: great author, really ought to taste her writings ... but she's incredible! I can't remember when last I was so totally and completely captivated by an author! Thank you, thank you, thank you...

PS
I have also rediscovered why I had to give up reading when my children were born: gotta read to the finish line!
What a week!
What a gift - of time with Mom and time with Madeline l'Engle!

Musings...on Holy Saturday morning

Yesterday, at the Good Friday service, I heard again those words about the guards casting lots for Jesus' tunic - the seamless tunic. And what really struck me was what was it like to be the person who won it? What did it feel like to wear Jesus' tunic? Did it change who that guard was, what he thought or did? Did he hear, later on, about Jesus' Resurrection? Did that 'spook' him - was he afraid to wear to wear the tunic - Jesus' tunic?

Why the specific mention that it was seamless? Yes, that explained the guards' reluctance to tear it up, I suppose, and it makes it sound special, perhaps even perfect . The writer must have attached some special meaning to that garment to make note of it like that...

And what about the hands that made it? Where did it come from? Was it made especially for Jesus - a gift from a devoted admirer, or perhaps someone who had been healed? Or was it passed down to Jesus from someone who no longer needed or wanted it? How many people wore it after Jesus, and did they always have a special feeling when they wore it? Isn't it strange that the emphasis has been put on the shroud of Turin - Jesus' grave cloths - rather than the tunic that he must have worn when he was healing and teaching...

There was another important cloak - Joseph's coat of many colours - and again the story doesn't follow the coat, but it seemed important enough to mention...

So many things to muse about on a sombre Saturday morning...