Friday, April 11, 2014

A Thin Place

Dear John,
 
Drat Glen Campbell. I still have that song running around in my head and I can't get rid of it. There were a couple of times at work today, when I was alone in the house, that I actually cried a bit. By the way, it's not a good idea to cry while you're eating a baked potato. There is a significant choking hazard involved. Important safety tip.
 
I've been remembering something you used to talk about. You'd read somebody - I have no idea who - that talked about life having thin places, places where the separation between earth and Heaven was thin and Heaven was close. Those thin places are good to find.
 
It seems to me that the calendar has thin places, too, but they're not good. That's what makes this part of April so hard. It's a thin place. But it's a different kind of thinness - it isn't Heaven that is close, it's the past. This day two years ago is so close that I'm only a hair from being there. And that's the last place on earth - or in time - that I want to be. I don't ever want to feel the way I felt that day.
 
But it seems that I don't have a choice - what a unique situation. Tomorrow I'll go to church for the liturgy for Lazarus Saturday. Then I'll come home and clean the house and maybe work in the garden some. I'll see if things stay this thin. I hope that I'm close to you, too, and not just those days two years ago. If you're near, I could use a bit of comforting.
 
Aching for you,
Joan.
 


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