Sacred Things

One of the mysteries of my life is my brain. Why I crave a chocolate croissant and tea on hard days is beyond me but, I can’t argue with the comfort it brings my heart. I had this from a Parisian cafe almost everyday while Steve was in ICU. I hardly ate anything else during those two weeks but this…it was my daily meditation when words were hard to find. God and I just sat, ate, sipped and cried. Three years later, as I found myself waiting in a hospital room holding my husband’s hand and wondering how I’d survive without him, I walked to the 1st floor Starbucks, everyday, for 10 days and partook of my sweet but bitter sacrament again. Maybe it tied my heart to a miracle that I so desperately wanted. Maybe it just offered a few moments of relief from the pain and fear I saw in myself and in my kids. Maybe it just tasted really good. I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet.

Today would be my anniversary. 34 years of love, laughter, pain, sorrow, and beauty. I miss holding Steve’s hand literally and figuratively. I got up but went right back to bed today. I treasured the texts of love and remembrance I received and then wished no one would have reminded me. I felt motivated and excited for the plans of the day and, suddenly, just wanted to be alone and do nothing. And it’s only 11 am. Like I said…a mystery.

In spite of all those feelings, (or maybe because of them), I found my way to the local Starbucks and here I sit, in a crowded room, typing this post, tears running down my face, embarrassed but proud…sad but thankful…lonely but loved…and this silly chocolate croissant is grounding my soul in this place and time. A place and time I never thought I’d find myself in and one that is as ambivalent as my own thoughts and feelings. It’s hard to hope and dream but it’s somehow harder not to. It’s hard to remember and be thankful but it’s definitely worse (and impossible) to forget. So I’m choosing to finish this sacred meal and trust that God understands this mind and heart of mine better than I do. With this bread and this tea I remember that He was broken and poured out for me. And for you. Yes, for the forgiveness of our sins which I am ever grateful for, But, also…I think…to be our companion in the brokenness and sorrow of life. To sit with us when we really don’t know what we want or need. And to remind us that he understands and he loves us desperately.