Holes Too

When people move away, not just across town but out of it, they too leave holes. If family members move, these holes trap us even in our house; we step in them when getting out of bed in the morning or trying to eat lunch. We notice these holes in our daily hygiene habits when the toothbrush holder gapes and not as many towels hang to dry. These holes create hazards to our daily functioning as we must learn to navigate new patterns.

When these family and friends visit, they temporarily fill their hole, which of course doesn’t happen with the deceased, so these holes never become the type of black hole that can swallow us completely. Those who communicate while away keep their hole from growing so deep. And yet when they leave again after a visit, the hole gaping suddenly again can trip up even the most wary and seasoned.

Holes

When people die they leave large holes that scar the landscape of our lives and create hazards like potholes on highways that we must be careful not to fall into at risk of losing ourselves for a time. As some time passes and we resolve some of the circumstances the holes shrink somewhat. But they never disappear.

For those more distant to the person, they learn to drive other roads to avoid the hole except those moments they take that familiar turning so comfortable in the past that takes them down that road and suddenly they find themselves confronted with that gaping hole and must again confront the loss.

For those close to the person, that road cannot be avoided, it is the path of their life and that hole will always remain gaping and in some ways dangerous as it can consume that loved one’s day or week or life if they find themselves constantly falling within it. For some that happens, they fall into that hole of grief and like a black hole it swallows them and they never fully emerge. 

But the healthy ones come to peace with the hole. Some days, especially at first, they fall in and roll around and even enjoy the darkness because the glare of the world becomes too much to bear. On other days they learn to walk around the hole, never fully escaping it or wanting to, but learning to navigate the new landscape. 

The healthy ones learn to assimilate the hole into everyday patterns, including it without drowning in it, avoiding disappearing within it without denying its existence. But it’s always a hazard, and can be backed into unawares at any moment, especially during certain seasons and occasions.

Revelation tells us when heaven and earth are remade there is no longer any sea, and like the cavernous ocean these holes will also be filled and healed, the landscape once again whole and healed. O for that day we long and await.

Katherine Callahan-Howell, ©2015

Saying Good-bye

Someone said that aging is awful but it beats the alternative.

I feel that way about saying good-bye.

My mother died unexpectedly. I had seen her ten days prior, and spoken to her two days before, so I didn't have guilt about neglect, my heart was clear in our relationship. But when my dad died of cancer, the blessing of that dread disease came in the opportunity to say good-bye, knowing death was near and being able to find closure.

The difference in the grieving process between losing each parent doesn't even compare. I spent a year angry at the circumstances of my mother's death (physician neglect). Although I miss my dad as much or more, the sense of resolution prevented being stuck in a nightmare of confusion.

I hate saying good-bye, whether it's because someone is leaving this earth or just my city or church. But as sad and difficult as that can be, it beats those folks who just slip away, without explanation, simply fading from view leaving you wondering if they're gone for good, and even more, why.

So I've reached some good-byes lately. for which I grieve. Yet I am grateful for the opportunity to express love and gratitude, instead of just wondering what happened.

Makes me wonder how God feels, because I think most of the time when people walk away, they don't up and tell God one day, I'm through, although I'm sure that happens. Mostly folks just slowly neglect that relationship, not even noticing themselves the slippage from faith to apathy.

At least God gets it, when I'm sad from saying good-bye, or because I didn't get to.

Lament for the Fallen

This morning as I left my house and walked through my neighborhood and saw black men walking and working, I felt again the pain of ongoing hurt as we heard yet another failed indictment last night. I wrote this lament:

Lament for the Fallen

Prophets have been weeping for thousands of years
Watching people suffering, covering them with tears
Wondering where our God is while we shake with our fears,
And holding out hope for tomorrow.

When will we see a change, when will justice rain?
Why do the same people have to feel most of the pain?
When will righteousness roll down, when will we see a change?
We're holding out hope for tomorrow.

Meanwhile we can't be still, we must speak, and march and try,
Standing together, holding those who cry,
Doing what we can do so no more need to die,
And holding out hope for tomorrow.

New Vision

My eyes have monovision. One sees distance and the other works close up. My brain adjusts, and figures out how to use each eye’s strength and weakness for each situation. Sometimes when I'm driving on the highway, especially at night, it's easier to use glasses to correct my vision, so that I have improved distance vision. I pass the vision test without them, but it’s easier to read the signs, and my eyes don’t grow as tired when I use the glasses.

When I put those glasses on, it's like I can feel the gears in my brain cranking to a new place to adjust to the glasses. It's kind of hard to explain and really somewhat painful. It's not quite like physical pain, but almost. I always feel like just taking off the glasses. But if I'm patient, my eyes adjust after a few minutes and I can see better at a distance. It's well worth it if I'm driving on the highway for a while. 

Sometimes life requires mid-course adjustments. Painful, and yet worth it in the long run. We may have a passable approach to a problem, yet not the best approach, not the one that will sustain us over the long run. At times other friends provide the adjustment we need, if we are willing to accept the help. Other times a boss or supervisor or parent or even child may have something that cranks our brains but brings us to new clarity. Be willing to allow new vision even when it hurts. The benefit outlasts the pain.

Martyrs and Reformers

My husband and I had the privilege of traveling in Europe for the last two weeks. In addition to beautiful art and amazing scenery, we enjoyed the sweep of history. 

We stood where they believe Peter was martyred, and saw a moving painting depicting the event.

 We stood by the Roman Colosseum, scene of pagan revelry, just next to the Arch of Constantine, marking the new age of Christianity as the empire's religion.

 

In Prague, we saw a statue of Jan Hus, burned for his faith and also these crosses in the Square in memory of other martyrs of those days of early protest and reform. In modern times in Prague students burned themselves to protest communism.

 

And then in Wittenberg, and Luther's house, I had a moving experience reading one of his quotes and realizing the stream of history in which I stand. I would not pastor church today if it were not for the reformers of days gone by and the many sacrifices they made, with their very lives, others with their freedom, others with the honor that would have been due them had they not protested the system.

We do stand on the shoulders of giants (quoting Isaac Newton). As we serve faithfully, I hope others will stand on our shoulders. More women pastor today than when I started 30 years ago. And it’s not really about that as much as about being obedient to God’s call and having the courage to follow that call. That’s what washed over me while standing in Luther’s house, the great responsibility that I have been given. May we serve with the courage of these ancestors in the faith, even if our physical lives are not at risk, may we be willing to risk reputation, favor, popularity, to do and say what God asks. Then someday we can join these forefathers and mothers in rejoicing at battles won and souls delivered.

A Split Soul

Today I walked up Kennesaw Mountain, where the Confederate Army dug in to protect Atlanta from the advancing Union troops. They lost and the Union Army left a swath of burning and pillaging in their wake.

I was born in Kentucky, a border state. Kentucky was a slave state, a fact of which I'm not proud. But when the war came, we made the right choice. Yet that choice split families as brothers signed up for differing sides of the conflict. Imagine the parents' anguish.

I now live in Cincinnati, and our family never really claims the state of Ohio, living in the corner as we do, but I'm proud of many things about my adopted city. Yet being a pseudo-Southerner is like having a split personality. Living with guilt, yet pride in the positives about the South, like the warm hospitality.

I'm grateful the Civil War ended slavery. But when I'm in the south, noting evidence of the battles, it hurts my soul. It hurts my soul to see injustice fixed only by violence.  And it's still going on today, in the Middle East, Ukraine, other parts of the world. I'm glad we are once again the "United" States, but justice still struggles, as we sure haven't outgrown racism and its side effects. As we continue to attempt to solve injustice with violence, sometimes it's hard to say which is worse, injustice, or the remedy. 

Humans lose more than just lives to violence, we lose respect and trust. And yet so often, as in the days of Lincoln, hard choices have to be made. I'm glad I don't have to make this kind of decision. I want to be careful not to judge those who must. The Bible tells us to pray for our leaders, let us do so instead of judging their choices. And may God clearly lead them.