dispatch from 06510…
we’ve wound our way to the place on the map by which i measure my distance. my orientation in space, the interval between points on the map. 864 miles, the span most often between me and my firstborn. but we are here today, in new haven, and will be together, kneel together, through the long hours of this afternoon, the vigil, the hours when millennia later we still keep watch on the cross, we enter into the imagining of that dark afternoon when Jesus was nailed, hands and feet, to the timber, when the crucified one cried out and surrendered his suffering.
he, my firstborn, has always honored this day with me, a day when my soul is dialed to somber. my jewish-catholic child has always known deeply how much this day, these hours, stir me.
and by the mysteries of the calendar, and a college tour that’s drawn us east, here i sit beside him, while he studies the law and i type on my itty-bitty screen, my weekly reach into my soul and out to the hearts i love.
that is not the only intertwining of this day, this day that also marks the beginning of Pesach, the Passover, the exodus from Egypt. and so at the end of the afternoon’s vigil, we will board a train into the city, new york city, and, side-by-side with family we love but don’t often see, retell the story of triumph over evil — another story of triumph over evil, of rising from despair.
it’s a holy day of intertwinings — of stories and loves that circle and weave, come together, part. mysterious rhythm, ebb and flow, as certain as the tidal pull, earth to its moon.
and my prayer is this: may the rhythms and the loves and the stories in your life always circle back to you, weaving you closer and closer to the soulful essence. that still point where the dance is. may the stories of easter and pesach, of resurrection and exodus, awaken you. and may you find yourself beside those you love this weekend.
typing on this little phone is not my forte. we are near the end of our long week of absorbing all things college. finding our way to here is the glorious exclamation. seeing the twinkle in T’s eye, the joy along the way. poor blair, father of said boys, took terrible tumble on a patch of ice in cambridge, and so early on our trip took us to the ER at mt. auburn hospital, where a dislocated shoulder was relocated, and morphine provided (thank heaven for that! and where oh where is the portable supply?).
what intertwinings stir you this day?