I attend a small church.  By small — I mean — 100 members give or take.  We may be a small community but rich in many ways.  Recently, two of  our members passed away within six months of each other.  Granted, they both lived long lives, but the wisdom vacuum they leave behind will definitely be hard to fill.

Then this past weekend, we lost a single mother in the prime of her life.  This summer, she shocked us all with a stage-four cancer diagnosis and before we knew it — she was gone — leaving behind a teen-age son.  All this loss seems to be taking a toll on this tiny little church, shaking well-established paradigms of faith and posing all sorts of questions.

What does this all mean in the long run?  Who knows?  Everyone’s journey is different.  Unfortunately, however, growth rarely happens during good times.  Opportunities for new life seem to come when the old container of understanding can no longer hold the new realities in front of us.  Jesus referred to this as a new wine skin.

My own container was stretched — or rather — shattered at nineteen when my mother died.  Certainly painful and not something I would wish upon anyone, I remember thinking I had come to a crossroads:

I could either seek my mother’s love elsewhere  OR

I could shrink away, isolate and become fearful and bitter

Luckily, I chose to seek her love elsewhere!  To my surprise, however, I found out that the love I was seeking wasn’t “out there” somewhere but something I could find within myself.  This loving, motherly presence I sought for comfort and guidance was closer than I thought — it was inside me!  Who knew?

This certainly wasn’t what I learned in Sunday School — and it sure as heck wasn’t anything I learned at church at all.  In fact, this mysterious loving presence  within didn’t awaken until I chose to see it.  I guess she was hiding out in a lot of ways.  I can’t say I blame her.  The church loses her in translation and Jesus (who honored and adored her) is mostly “talked about” rather than “experienced” as a real, live presence in our everyday lives.

So why did I choose to meet this loving presence within?  No special reason, really.  I basically ran out of excuses.  Besides things fell apart for me to such a degree after my mother died that it laid me out flat.  It broke down my barriers and made me vulnerable.  I was like a baby again in need of tending pronto!  I remember sitting in my college apartment and throwing my hands up, getting on my knees and pleading for help.

It is this kind of adoration and humility that I now crave on a daily basis.  To be laid out and open is something I desire so deeply yet it’s something I continue to find hard to do, especially when I get comfortable with the way things are going.  I mean, why rock the boat, right?  It’s much more comfortable to assume that I’m in control and that my life will follow the path I prescribe.  Not!

Luckily, I learned at an early age that life can change on a dime.  It can change in ways that can leave one gasping for breath.  The good news, I find, is that a loving presence is available and waiting whenever I let my guard down long enough to notice.  A presence that loves me so much that it’s willing to wait to get a moment alone with me.  A presence willing to wait for eternity if necessary just to show me that all is love, love is all there is and love is forever here to stay.

Now, I don’t know if the young man from our church who lost his mother will seek out a loving presence in the same way but I do know that if he opens himself up to love, he will most definitely receive it.  It’s as close as his breath and as near as a hug.  My hope is that he will choose love again.  That he will want to mend his broken heart and that he will come to know a loving presence that promises to hold him until the end of his days