Crossing Boulevard

with Rev. Rachel


A series of events, a window of time, can be as a meat tenderizer to one’s innermost parts. If life is not for the faint of heart, neither is it for those who insist that for a heavy and perhaps hole-ridden heart, there exists no relief.

I heard about two friends who saw to it than someone’s only daughter made it home for a surprise and timely visit. Word also has it that a man walked through the doors of this church and dropped off $100 because he said it wasn’t his—he found it—and if he couldn’t restore it to the pocket from which it fell, it would most certainly not find shelter in his.

Did you know: A candle can go out over pasta (and cookies with sprinkles on top), re-illumine an hour later, and whatever the science, the magic can take the moment? Or that a pastor can attend another’s church to thank God Almighty for a Sunday to spend like a “normal” person and still feel what it feels like to miss her own flock?

‘The things that have taken place’ have not been all bad. Even pangs of concern could not rob the beauty from the chance to peel shells from my father’s shrimp. His fingernails may be at the mercy of medicine’s most powerful drugs, but all was well in the way that it can be when into circumstances less than ideal, grace comes.

We have lived enough to know that the relief is temporary—that never are we fully free from the swells and storms that are just part of it. Over time, we learn to keep the good times at a distance; or, and because we can’t count on much to last, we take the spells of relative ease and own them without apology.

Here’s to the latter of those. If Eastertide is a time to search out the ripple effect of one man’s standing back up, might it also be the season to fully claim what is light-hearted, care-free…not because these bits of beauty are earned or because we are naive…but because to not embrace them would be to deny the element of surprise that is the marrow of our bones as the body of a risen Christ?

Sure, it’s a heavy load. We all carry one. But standing still with the weight—what does that do? My stance: We are better off listening for the music; and dancing, baggage in hand. Not only because we can but because we just might shake the devils off our backs as we do. I say, have at it.