I guess it was appropriate to start Lent in such a way. The
worstest of days, that rolls into an entire week.
Some weeks - not just some days - are like that. They go from bad to worse to the worstsest.
It turns out, we were not the only ones.
Far and near, friends and family, the week unfurled its folds filled with unwanted surprises, one after another.
Somehow, we all made it to Sunday which to the casual eye looked like just an ordinary, humdrum Sunday.
But to us, nothing could be further from the truth. We were like survivors of a shipwreck, each clinging to something - anything! - until we were washed ashore, nerves shredded, souls banged up, barely holding it together.
As we stood in circle, recounting our hair-raising 'week from hell' experiences, a strange thought crossed my mind,
This feels a little bit like heaven.... Despite all odds we made it! Now we are finally together and telling and hearing each other's stories of life and death, unembellished, unedited...
In that telling, a thread appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. A shy, unpretentious gift of gratitude.
Not manufactured, obligatory, polite grateful. Definitely not faking-it grateful. But genuine, put-my-hand-on-my-mouth-in-awe-how-lucky-I-really-am grateful.
It's as if each of us, over the course of the worstest of weeks, lost something precious and gained a new set of eyes to see that despite the loss, there was still so very much we have that we don't deserve. That we take for granted day in day out.
And we almost became grateful for the worstest of all weeks...
Some weeks - not just some days - are like that. They go from bad to worse to the worstsest.
It turns out, we were not the only ones.
Far and near, friends and family, the week unfurled its folds filled with unwanted surprises, one after another.
Somehow, we all made it to Sunday which to the casual eye looked like just an ordinary, humdrum Sunday.
But to us, nothing could be further from the truth. We were like survivors of a shipwreck, each clinging to something - anything! - until we were washed ashore, nerves shredded, souls banged up, barely holding it together.
As we stood in circle, recounting our hair-raising 'week from hell' experiences, a strange thought crossed my mind,
This feels a little bit like heaven.... Despite all odds we made it! Now we are finally together and telling and hearing each other's stories of life and death, unembellished, unedited...
In that telling, a thread appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. A shy, unpretentious gift of gratitude.Not manufactured, obligatory, polite grateful. Definitely not faking-it grateful. But genuine, put-my-hand-on-my-mouth-in-awe-how-lucky-I-really-am grateful.
It's as if each of us, over the course of the worstest of weeks, lost something precious and gained a new set of eyes to see that despite the loss, there was still so very much we have that we don't deserve. That we take for granted day in day out.
And we almost became grateful for the worstest of all weeks...
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