Weaving Small Graces Through Big Life
Recently, I gathered with some very good friends in support for one who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. It felt good to be together as we perused the lunch menu, ordered iced teas, and chatted about whether soup or salad sounded better.
Our friend shared her challenges in how hard it’s been to navigate this initial stage of her diagnosis. She was still in the midst of medical testing, doctor’s appointments, and more testing. It’s all about waiting, she noted, which is hard. Our conversation was gentle and supportive. There was a palpable respect for her and this very fresh projection into her new normal. Our conversation was comfortable; weaving concern and support for her with more frivolous respites of chatter. We balanced her heavy sighs of burden with the delight of her cherry blossom pink fingernail polish. We wove her talk of angst with talk of watching her grandson play basketball. As our conversion flowed, I couldn’t help but note this very personal time of trial for my friend coincides with the season of Lent.
Whether or not you’re Christian or believe in the sacredness of Christ’s journey, if you live long enough, “The Cross” will find you. Grief, difficult medical diagnoses, unmet expectations, or trauma can catapult you to a place where all semblance of predictability is lost. Heartache hijacks your easy breath. Having the rug pulled from under you can leave you reeling with the challenge to find new footing. So, how do we navigate? Perhaps more poignantly, how do we re-establish trust in the unknown when the known is so hard?
The scriptural accounts of Jesus’ journey of the Cross are harrowing. The pain and torture of his journey to death are difficult to reflect upon. Connecting our personal passage through adversity with Easter’s promise of new life is hard. How can we be so sure resurrection will find us? Often times, blinding ache mutes our ability to see anything but pain in our rear view mirror.
We are called during such challenging times to literally keep the faith that good will reign. I’ve learned when big life is especially hard, it’s the small graces that can be like a restorative balm. A brilliant red cardinal resting upon a barren tree limb reminds me of better days to come. The brightness of a child’s infectious giggle might reach into a place of quiet darkness igniting a chain reaction of smiles. And at least this past week, the influx of warming breezes calls us to awareness of Spring’s encouragement. Even opening the windows can breathe new life. The weave of such serendipitous joys into tough times helps us keep open to goodness in spite of suffering.
For my friend who’s learning to live in her new normal, my prayer is that she can find small joys into her road ahead, so that in tandem with her angst are reminders of simple graces that reach the lonely places of worry. As we continue to move through this season of Lent, I wish for all who are in the throes of hardship the ability to entwine God’s sweet and sustaining grace into wobbly moments of uncertainty. Spring officially begins this week. Many among us find ourselves bearing uninvited burdens. I hope your very personal Lenten journey will weave through the surety and emerging beauty of Spring. Therein just might be a pretty heartening pathway towards Easter joy.