Come (continued)

Cedar Newsletter No. 2

III

You see, what happened during the impossible years was an old-fashioned plot twist. When my Mom and my sister were both dying, I tripped over a very obvious thing. It must have been hiding in plain sight all along.

First, I should establish, that my mother and sister’s journeys through illness, their dying, were exactly the kind of nuisances those Brits with the big white hair were warning us about. Dying is obviously terrible! It’s the most menacing kind of hole. It can be very painful physically (as it was for my sister) and anguishing mentally (it was for both of them) and excruciating too to be its witness. It was wall to wall bad.

But, and this is a big But, so big is this But that it changed everything. Here it is --- my heart was strangely satisfied when I was intermittently, occasionally, mercifully able to draw near to them in their suffering, to help hold it with them or for them. Or when I was able to simply walk with them wherever they were, to come close enough to their holes that yeah, sometimes I fell in. And what was even more impressive to me was the absolute nuclear power of watching as other people came close too, drawing near to their pain. *There was an unrelenting, unquenchable beauty in it. This was like narrative whiplash – this plot twist made landfall at a full 180 degrees. And here I thought I was supposed to avoid the holes!

How ‘coming to the nuisance’, the idea of this dark and dangerous trench I’d first imagined, eventually transformed, first in my mind and then in my heart, to be a place of actual refreshment, a place of rest and even hope, and how a simple warning --- to use your noodle, assess your risk, hone skills of logic and discipline and self-control -- became instead an invitation to something much better, much stronger, a credible peace for my scattered soul, this is the question that keeps drawing me back and drawing me back.

I suppose I should admit that my acceptance of all this is halting and fleeting. It grows ever so slowly. Daily it seems I need to remind myself that coming to the nuisance might be the very reason we’re even here, that we’re born into this absurd cauldron and confusion, born onto this sinking ship.

But here’s the truth -- what I learned during those years when my Mom and my sister were dying is this: it might just be the case that our primary, overriding nuisance here on this blue-green ball hurtling thru space, is, quite simply…

Love.

And this might be why I felt compelled to turn a cedar closet into an office and throw up a shingle that says “Welcome”. (And then I throw that one away and get another one that just says, “Come”.)

So there we are ---- Love. That’s essentially the backstory. And that means that our purpose is also our nuisance.

---

IV Conclusione

(that’s Italian)

So, now, in closing, it’s time for my first editorial correction. I need to repudiate an earlier thing I said, in this very first newsletter. It was about the years my Mom and sister were so sick. This is what I said: ‘there was nothing for me to put in the tote for this’.

Well, while it’s true that I did not know then what I could possibly put in my tote for that situation, other than a California Bordeaux blend, I know more now. And many of those things are in my overstuffed files still at my desk in New York City. There’s some serious wisdom in those files. Not mine, other people’s! The work of great writers and thinkers, theologians and pastors, poets and healers and the Good Lord Himself.

My humble hope is that as I unpack all the files from my desk in New York and open them here in my cedar office and tinker away on my laptop over the next year or so, I might re-discover some of those nuggets of truth and beauty for this very wild ride --- that we can take with us as we go.

So, Come.

xok

---

P.S. Friends! One last thing!

Each newsletter will end with any cool links that the story might have generated as well as some tangible take-aways I’ve rustled up: one truth, one tip and one little thing for your tote. Why? Because I was a stay-at-home mom for twenty-two years. If I can’t hand you something at the door that’s practical to take away, well, I give up! In the end, life rolls out in moments and days. I, myself, need practical ideas for how to live the time —- well or beautifully or humbly or truthfully. Something good. So I’ll try to send you off properly too. Please, feel free to give some tips back to me in the comments. I need them!

Tip - Hanna Andersson PJ’s. Yes, they cost a million dollars. My mom friends and I would wait for the summer sale and then pull down several pair. They’re worth it! Why? They last forever. Through three boys. And dang. When the little rascals refuse to get in their beds, at least they look adorable and Swedish. Hanna Andersson

Magnatiles. Oh, the hours and days we whiled away on these! Get Magnatiles

Truth - Indeed, the greatest, most stunning example of anyone’s coming was God Himself, who did not pass by this dumpster fire (that was me, that was we, that was this…that was all the dying, hurting, needing and wanting, all the thirst and hunger and disease and shin splints) and accomplished the most dazzling rescue in the history of the universe, flipping the whole script and making everything sad come untrue. The truth is – it was He who Came to Me. I have placed you before an open door that no one can shut. Revelation 3:7

Tote – This is important, so stop scrolling your political blogs and listen up! If you’re someone currently experiencing deep grief or you’re just feeling depressed, skip the Bordeaux blend. You’ll just miserably delay everything, all the work and the healing too. I’m not being judgy or churchy. It’s just the deal. (I have more in my files on substance use for a future letter.) For now, try these instead, my new N/A faves:

Gruvi Red Wine Blend and Gruvi Sangria I mix them!

H20 Soft Sonoma Seltzer if you like bubbly white and light. Neither are cheap. But compared to a substance use issue!? That costs you, well, everything.

A TikTok that ended up on the family thread—-on a ludicrously capacious tote

*My very first newsletter is dedicated to Helene Cashin, Lucy Duffy, Jane Kelly and Eileen Olsen as well as Mary McKinney and Tracy Staines who cared for my mother and sister at the end of their lives and forever changed mine.