Saturday, August 18, 2012

Another Stone Laid in the Path

I see myself standing there in the foyer.  Watching.  Taking mental pictures.  Immersed in the give and take of the laying of this stone.

A gentlemen says, “I can seat you now, if you like?”  He knows I am waiting for someone, but wants to take care of his responsibilities.

I smile and respond, “I’m fine.  I’m ok to wait here.”  I try to reassure him and add, “Besides, I’m writing.  Can’t you see the words?”

He smiles in complicity, “Yes, I do.”

And I believe he may.  He is, after all, a reader and understands the importance words play.

I’m back to watching the scene before me.  They say there are six degrees of separation between us all.  If we could extend our lives six people out, we are all connected.  Watching the picture before me, I realize there are far less than six degrees separating all of these lives.  We are a Kandinsky of colors swirling and mixing from north to south, east to west.  A portrait carefully painted by a Master artist.

Aptly, a song rises above the crowd.  Over and again the chorus is repeated, “How are you?  You look beautiful!  I am so glad you’re here.”  Melodies of friendship crescendo as the choir moves slowly into the sanctuary.

I find my particular friends and move inside to wait the perfect moments, the perfect music, the perfect promises.  Together and alone we watch the drama play.  We can’t help but compare this day with other days we have witnessed.  The lace, the flowers, the signed license and kiss for luck. 

Sometimes, like this one, the day is enveloped with laughter.  The kind that makes your sides hurt, your voice hoarse, tears running down your face.  It’s with this laughter we tie our hearts together.  It’s an unspoken promise that should our paths cross elsewhere, we will find a friendly smile, a genuine handshake, a place to rest from the cares of life.  It uplifts us, this laughter, and carries us over the hard days.

I watch the mother of the groom from across the way and see my own happy sadness in her eyes.  I understand the joy she feels of sons grown and the sadness of an empty nest.  The guards are slowly changing in our lives.  We are leaders, it’s true, but ever so tenaciously we hand off the baton to them.  They are the next generation and we trust them with the Good News that changes lives. 

They are beautiful, these grown children.  The platform is decorated with their joy and empty picture frames.  This new family will fill the frames with the story of their life.  To either side of the bride and groom are their closest friends.  Those whose hands have held them up, carried them, and implicitly join these two paths.  The weaving of these many lives has not just begun. They are a strong fabric which has been tested and found to be true.

We measure the days of our lives with these events.  Having the same faces to share the mile-markers gives us identity, purpose, family.  We joke the next event will be a baby shower. 

We don’t share only the ceremony, this band of mothers, but the set-up and clean-up, too.  Not only of the event – but of the lives celebrated by the event.  We are those who will be cheering these children’s successes.  We are those who will stand beside them when they struggle.  We are those who pray and love and hurt with these children.  And with each other. 

This wedding is a perfect day.  The sun shines, the music shines, the brilliance of their pure love shines.  We send them off in a shower of lavender, waving them on to their future.

I see myself again, standing among the crowd.  I am holding the hand of a child whose mother I have prayed with many times while she was yet finding her place.  Over the many years, our paths crossed hither and yon, an example of foundational acceptance.  The child understands this and walks this space with me, also, making my heart smile.

Looking at the portrait the crowd makes behind the newlyweds, I see more than swaying hands.  Each life its own brush stroke.  Survivors, overcomers, those who refused to let the dips of sorrow steal their zest.  I am aware that I am made stronger, gentler by standing in this crowd.  

Together we pave a path for those who follow.  

To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, please visit my website:  Writer's Pages

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1 comment:

  1. I was not there yet your words transported me and I could not only "see" but feel the unfolding of the scenes of life. God is good. Thank you for sharing your blessed "thoughts".