small and holy

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you must do big things to be important.

Tuesday: pre-martial counseling: We are working on getting to know one another because, like most young couples, these two don’t come to church.

“When did your parents get divorced?” I ask, and two minutes later the tears have started.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she says. Because it still hurts, I think, but I only say, “The kleenexs are right in front of you, and crying is always okay in here.”

“It might be important to think some more about your parents' divorce as you prepare for your own marriage,” I say, “and if you can, find a way to talk about it with them because you experience the grief differently as an adult than when you were 14.”

She nods. And the quiet that follows shows we both know she has shared something deep.

Wednesday: evening prayer: I give my 5 minute, off-the-cuff meditation on the passage in Acts 4 where the church shared everything in common and people sold their private possessions so that there was no one in need.

After we feast at the table, a favorite 80-something approaches me and says, eyes pleadingly serious…”You don’t know how I’ve struggled with that scripture and others like it.”

I am surprised to her say she struggles with scripture at all. She is a doer. She wastes little time on theology talk or overt spirituality. She does, and does, and does. Her compassion and generosity are rarely equaled inside or outside the church but, she reveals to me, her spirit is never quite settled. Her eyes can always see more in need, her heart questions if she had taken too much for herself.

“Those are good questions,” I say, “they keep us from holding too tightly to our things.”

She nods. And the quiet that follows shows we both know she has shared something deep.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you must do big things to be important.