Holy Week

Today was Palm Sunday, and it was a beautiful service. The kids danced with palm branches, which got Myles' attention, since we sit in the front pew. It was a hard week at church. A beloved member of our congregation who possessed the secret of joy and lived a life advocating for justice and peace passed away on Thursday. He was 68. He went into the hospital 12 days earlier with pain in his leg and they found a blood clot. In preparing to surgically remove it, they discovered he had acute lukemia. Just like that. I went to visit him early on in his hospital stay, and as soon as I entered the room his face lit up and he said, "Amanda!" with a laugh and a twinkle in his eye, just the way he always said my name. I said, "Tough day Andy," and he said, "could be worse." On Thursday, I went to visit again, knowing that the doctors thought he had just days, and I arrived very shortly after he died. I have a lot to learn about offering pastoral care to families who find themselves struck with this kind of grief. But I did my best, giving hugs, offering words about Andy that were kind and true, offering to pray. Leaving them in the good and capable hands of the hospital chaplain, who also attends our church. I was glad that I got to see Andy this one last time. His son said that his death was easy and peaceful, that he was glad to have been with his dad when it happened. I'm learning from my community of faith that a death like this re-opens old wounds, and we relive our grief at losing close family and friends. It stirs up fear in us, as we look at Andy and see what might happen to our husbands, our brothers, our fathers...as we look at his wife Trina and see our mothers, our grandmothers, ourselves. It's a lesson about the exquisiteness of the human spirit and the frailty of human life, the latter being what the season of Lent is all about, in my mind. This week of Holy week, when those of us who are Christian remember Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a humble donkey, his last supper, his betrayal and trial, his death at the hands of the Roman empire, and finally, his resurrection, is a journey through the valley of the shadow of death. We often say in our church that you can't get to Easter joy without wading through suffering. On a week like last week, I know that I am grateful for this Lenten journey which speaks to the realities of life.

I am trying to learn more and more how to be present in the moment and stay close to the ones I love, remembering life is such a gift. Myles has been incredibly sweet this week, Seth calls him the "3 second snuggler" because he will come over and lay his head on my shoulder, my lap, or my hand, and give me the sweetest hug. Often it lasts for 3 seconds, but sometimes it lasts for 3 minutes. One of these little snuggles and it's crystal clear that all those sleepless nights were nothing in exchange for this sweet love. Today he did the cutest thing. My shoes were in the middle of the living room floor, and he took one of them and crawled to the closet with it and put it away in the closet.

The weather was rainy yesterday and a bit cold today so we didn't get to work in the yard like we had planned. We did, however, get Myles his first scoop of ice cream (sugar free butter peacan). He was in heaven! Then we went to the play area in the ice cream shop and he discovered match box cars. Oh, life's little pleasures...