You know the mean time. Not the time when you are upset (like the time between 4 and 6 in the afternoon). No, the time between the big events.
Andrew said yesterday that there was nothing to look forward to. He has his iMac, he has his camera, Allie (his girlfriend) has been home from college for the weekend and gone back, classes are normal, work is normal. I know that feeling. I’m seldom there, but I know that feeling.
However, I’m not sure there ever is a mean time, not for everyone, not all at once.
Last night I was privileged to be asked to anoint a grandmother, a woman with not much time left, a woman who protected her grandchildren from the kkk in Alabama years ago. She had 5 daughters around her morphine-induced rest, and two granddaughters and I was there to pray.
Today I got a call wondering what to do about a guy who seems to be hinting at suicide. As soon as I finish this post, I’m headed to the hospital to pray with a woman headed for hip surgery, a woman with more years than I’m guessing I’ll have.
And so I’m not sure I get to think about having a mean time. I’m thinking that the more I am open to other people and to being open to their lives, the less I get to decide that nothing important is going on.
Life and death keep happening. I (and you) get to walk through both with them. Unless we decide that nothing happens in the mean time.
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