The woman moves forward in the line. It was moving slowly. The day was hot. The air was heavy and dry. And there were many people. She could feel their impatience, grumbling at the slowness of the pace, frustrated that their time was being eaten up by this ritual, this duty, this act of obedience.
Polite behavior was giving way to mumble under the breath and little brushes of the shoulders-not so gentle shoves here and there. She could sense their resentment, infecting what was supposed to be a reverent atmosphere. She recognized it, even though it was a feeling that was foreign to her. She felt like an outsider, sharing the line with those who were so hostile on the inside, because on the inside she was at peace. She felt nothing but gratitude-or rather-gratitude and love.
As she stood in the line, patiently waiting, inching forward to take her turn, she began to remember. She thought of her life as a young girl. She was happy. She thanked the God of Israel then for the gift of life. She loved to spend time in the fields-her eyes feasting on the many flowers-her nose delighting with the smells brought by the breeze-her tongue tasting the sweetness of the clover and the fig-her ears surrounded with the musical sounds of the air through the trees-and her body enjoying every texture that existed. It was a good life, and it was all because of God's goodness.
As she grew, she continued to notice how God had blessed her. She shared life and faith with a family filled with love. There was laughter and there were games and even tricks. There were times of trouble and sorrow, too, but God helped them to bind even more closely together. Her family trusted and worshipped God, and they passed those qualities along to her. Perhaps that was the greatest gift of all.
When she was of age, God blessed her with a husband. He was strong and hard working as well as faithful and kind. Like her, he loved the land of God's creation. Together they worked the land. It was hard work, but they were young and in good health. They loved each other and they loved to work side by side; plowing and planting, weeding and watering, harvesting and milling. They made a good team. It wasn't long until their team expanded. She and her husband had children. There were five of them-three boys and two girls. They, too, were healthy and strong, loving creation and the God who made it. The children grew, married and had children of their own. They had food and shelter and happiness. They had faith. Life was good.
But after some time had passed, there was sadness. It was a great sadness, unlike any she had ever known before. He life partner, her loving and kind husband, grew frail and weak. His strength gone, she cared for him, thankful that he was still there to share her days.
And then one day it was over. He was gone from this world. She was a widow and she had feelings that she had never experienced before. She was alone and she was lonely. She could not feel a love for the land. She could not remember happiness of laughter or joy. Al she felt was emptiness. She was not longer thankful to her God, and could not feel God's love.
One day, her youngest child came for a visit. This child was always special, a quiet and loving girl, quick to serve and eager to please, but shy and reserved. As a child, she was always off by herself and her family often wondered if she heard anything that they said or was even aware of family happenings.
They walked in silence, the mother and daughter. The mother followed where the daughter led, unaware of where she was going, merely placing one foot in front of the other. And when the daughter stopped, the mother stopped as well. At first she didn't notice where she was, but gradually her senses were awakened.
She felt the grass between her toes and the earth beneath her feet. She saw the many shapes and colors of the wildflowers. As she breathed, their fragrance tickled her nose. She heard the song of the wind in the trees. She awoke and knew that she was home.
For the first time that day, her daughter spoke. "Mother, I know how sad you are. I can feel your grief and I share it with you. We all miss him. But, it is time for you to wake from this time of sleep, for that is what you have been doing-sleeping. You have not noticed the world around you or even allowed yourself to dream. I want you to look around at what you see. Take it all in." And they did. Together they surveyed all that God had made.
Her youngest child continued, "Now I'm going to ask you a question that you always posed to us when we were children. I'll bet you thought that I wasn't listening, but I was. I remember every word you ever spoke, and these words are important ones. 'Who does it all belong to?' you would ask. And like the children you raised us to be we all chimed in, 'This is God's creation. It's just on loan to us!' You would tell us about coming here as a child, immersing yourself in what belonged to God, amazed that God would share any of it, it was so beautiful.
Then you told us how to look at life. You taught us that we are able to farm because God has made the earth rich and our bodies strong. You taught us that we have children to love and care for because God shares them with us. You taught us that we have food to eat and shelter for sleeping because God has provided. God has given us the gifts and talents that make our livelihood possible, so that we may enjoy this life we have been given. 'We have never had much,' you would say, 'but we have always had plenty, thanks to God. We have each other, to share laughter and faith because God has made it so. We are a part of God's creation, of all that is on loan to us.'
That is what I heard, mother, when you wondered if I was listening. And today I thought that you were ready to hear those words again. Your own words." The girl's speaking ceased. And together their hearts gave thanks for the gift-the loan-of their husband and father.
The woman smiled as she thought of the wisdom that God had shared with her daughter. Her feelings of gratitude increased yet again.
Suddenly, the woman heard a gruff voice and felt a rough push. "Get going lady! You're next!" IT was her turn. Her turn to give back to God some of what God had given to her. She dropped the two coins into the treasury. She didn't have much, but what she did have she would share with God. It didn't belong to her after all. It belonged to God. Amen.
Peace,
Rev. Cynthia Bacon
Minister
You may email at:
cbacon@heritagemadison.org
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