Scripture: Ps 95,69, 73; Genesis 43:1-15; 1 Corinthians 7:1-9; Mark 4:35-41
Scripture standout: Ps 69: "29 But as for me, afflicted and in pain—
may your salvation, God, protect me. 30 I will praise God’s name in song
and glorify him with thanksgiving."
Ps 73: "21 When my heart was grieved
and my spirit embittered,
22 I was senseless and ignorant;
I was a brute beast before you.
23 Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
24 You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory."
1 Corinthians 7: "But each of you has your own gift from God; one has this gift, another has that."
His Deed/The Day: Today' deed was going to make some cold, soothing cherry jello for my Marley — who came home from school sick with a fever. But more on that in a minute.
David and I went to Dale Regan's memorial service today at Episcopal. It felt strange to drive on campus and see so many of the images I'd be seeing on the news and in the paper. The makeshift memorial of flowers. The school marquee. Still after this many days, the whole thing did not seem real in any way.
The entire community came out on this beautiful sunny day and sat under the old oak trees in front of Parks and Lastinger halls to listen, reflect and convene — every Episcopal priest in town was there. There was a sense of all being in this together. Relief. Sort of.
Dean Kate Moorehead gave the homily. Like many people, I was ready for some well explained closure to this whole mess. And we all got that and then some. She reminded us — in a voice that was authoritative and clear — that the resurrection was on the third day. Remember that? When Jesus rose from the dead on the third day? "Well this is the third day," she pointed out. Yes it was. You could see everyone making a quick calculation. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Yup. Three days, sure enough. It was the third day since that a-hole flipped and ruined it all. Three days since that freak burst the secure bubble we'd all enjoyed for decades.
Dean Kate didn't say that though. She reminded us gently, yet firmly, that God promises to make extraordinary things out of utter darkness. On the third day, we rise up and start new. Things are messy and horrible and impossible. Then we get to work, we clean it up — and something far better emerges. That's when the rainbow appeared in the sky.
I did not see it, I was too busy blowing my nose. But it was there. God's promise in the sky for all to witness. This one, from Facebook, proves it!
As I mentioned earlier, Marley came home from school sick today. I was supposed to be at a vestry retreat in St. Simons this afternoon. Her sickness threw a major kink in the plans. It's not too easy to pawn off a feverish, sick 10-year-old off on healthy friends or family. Especially the ones who want their mother to sit with them. I smelled a deed lurking. "Marley," I said, "I'm going to make you some jello. The cherry red jello you love so much." Jello, it seems, puts everyone back on the track to wellness. I went into the kitchen to prepare it.
I filled a fluted glass bowl with a sloshing helping of red hot jello water. I put it in the fridge, but tentatively. I noticed that perhaps the bowl's edge was catching the door. When I opened the door to check, the bowl sneered at me and tipped — sending a slow, steaming cascade of red hot jello water all over the refrigerator interior — and onto the kitchen floor beneath, where it quickly oozed into crevices and corners that hadn't been touched by a mop in years. There was red EVERYWHERE. You might not know this, but the refrigerator has itty bitty joints and folds and tiny gutters that are perfect jello water traps. The red liquid, now beginning to congeal, was pooling around yogurt containers, sticks of butter, the milk — jars of pickled green beans. It seeped into the meat drawer and settled on the bacon, the lunch meat bags, the cheese singles. There was a puddle on the floor and my feet turned bright red. I had it in my hair.
Worst of all, just as the bowl tipped — David walked in the back door from work.
In close second for worst was David's biggest nightmare: jars and bottles ringed in red, staining the countertops where I had tossed them in a panic.
He got out the bleach. I got out the cleaning spray and paper towels. He filled the bathtub with water and bleach. We got to work. In silence, we turned our kitchen upside down scrubbing and wiping and rubbing. After an hour, our kitchen never looked so clean! The crevices that were dark and moldy — some hairy, yikes! — were now shining.
Our darkest kitchen hour in years, turned into something far greater and cleaner. I understood what Kate was talking about.
Deedcslousure: Make jello for someone you love. Carefully.
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