Connected

Laying the Granite Treads

The concrete pad was laid, and extra step constructed, then the bricks and cinderblocks put in place. All that was left was the treads. Because brick and granite priced out the same bricks a cheaper material with a higher labor cost, granite a more expensive material with lower labor cost), we went with the granite. The eight pieces of granite used were beautiful, but heavy. Getting them to lay flat and aligned was quite a task. The seams were mortared, then it was just a matter of time for them to set. A day later, it was just a quick rinse with a hose to finish the job.

New, Safe, Welcoming

I doubt many people will pay much attention to the new steps. They aren’t remarkably different from the old ones. But noticed or not, they are an integral part of how we live and welcome the world into our home – and how we go out into that world. We are connected again, for our goings out and our comings in. And that is a gift.

In the next couple of years, we’ll take on the walkway. That will require skill beyond me or my husband, so our mason will be back. Sometimes, we need someone else to help connect us to the world outside the door – even if few visitors will ever notice the skill and effort that connection required.

What is important and necessary isn’t always obvious. Thank you, Brett Alden, for your work.

Work In Progress

Necessary Supplies

The front steps finally gave up after seventy years of loyal service. They were falling apart, listing to the right, with one step separating from another. Beyond repair, they were removed Wednesday morning.

It’s important, this set of stairs that connects home to the world. It needs to be solid, not too slippery when rain and ice fall, and it needs to look like it belongs on the front of this 1950’s Cape.

It’s a lot of work, this clearing out what is no longer working, this replacing connections. It requires time and effort, and no small amount of skill. And it won’t last forever.

That sounds a lot like life…let’s take a look…

[Part of the Work In Progress series. Click the tab above for more information.]

What If?

Christ is Risen! Death does not have the last word. So what now?

My mother thought that people didn’t find faith because they were afraid that God would ask them to die for that faith. That might be true for some. I’d bet that people are more afraid that God will ask them to live for that faith.

What would my life be if I lived as God’s beloved child?

What would my life be if I loved God rather than feared some kind of afterlife punishment?

What would my life be if I loved myself for the unique person I am, shortcomings and all?

What would my life be if I loved you for the unique person you are, shortcomings and all?

God. Self. And you, my Neighbor. What if…?

There’s no better time to live out that what if…

Three Things…

Good Friday – one of those euphemisms, a way of glossing over the horror of crucifixion and death. There’s nothing good about it. Sure, it will turn out right in the end, but the end isn’t here yet. Calling it Good doesn’t change that.

How do we get from a horrible death and so much darkness to a place of light and peace not just in the Holy Week sense, but in our every day living? There is so much that is wrong, that is painful, that is evil. How do we dream of something better, and find the strength to work for that something better?

Faith. Hope. Love. These three things.

Have faith that God-With-Us is with us.

Find hope in unlikely places – despair doesn’t have to win.

Love yourself and others because you are so loved.

Hold on.

Where Would I Be?

The Palm Sunday parade through Jerusalem, with Jesus riding triumphant as he entered, is past. The final meal with his disciples and friends is fast approaching. It’s so close to the end of Lent, but the hardest part is almost upon us: betrayal, denial, death.

Judas betrays Jesus, the religious leaders sacrifice him to keep the peace and their power, Peter denies knowing Jesus, and God-With-Us dies on a cross. Only a handful of women and the disciple John stayed with him, the rest scattered in terror.

Every year I wonder where I would have been. Would I be among the women who stayed or among those who ran? I hope I would have stayed; I fear I would have run.

For the first time, this year I wonder if asking this question really matters. There’s no way of knowing its true answer. If I think I’d have stayed, perhaps I overestimate my own faithfulness and courage; if I assume I’d run, how does that help me live a life of faith?

Maybe it’s time to let go of that question, whatever the answer, and love what is truly amazing: Jesus loved them all, the runners and the steadfast.