Come Back To Me

I am cleaning house today; erasing the evidence that five people and two pets live in this home. Everywhere I look there is pet fur and pet nose prints, lost socks and scraps of papers awaiting recycling. I wonder how on earth we could have accumulated so much detritus since I last did these chores just the other day. And I wonder if these bits and pieces of others ever actually leave me, or if they are somehow fixed to my being like I’ve been tattooed by my life choices.

img_1352On my shower door is a handprint. Several actually, but one stands out in relief. The Mister and I often pass by the shower while it is in use and place a palm against the glass…waiting for the other person to reach out and cover the other’s palm. Palm prints, warming the glass and leaving a reminder that even when separated, we are still connected. The odd thing about these handprints  is that they resist removal. As part of my cleaning rotation, I scrub the shower doors. And yet, ever so often I find that one still appears in the fog, days after it was placed there. It is as if when Mister Soandso and I take the time to connect even in this silly, small way, it leaves an impression. I like this possibility. And I like this tradition we seem to have created for ourselves.

I don’t know who started this tradition only as old as this house, but I do know Mister Soandso doesn’t know that when the light is just right and I catch a glimpse of one of those smudges on the glass, I put my hand over it and whisper, “Come back to me.” It is the same thing I say when I drop off my kids at their schools; “come back to me” I whisper to their backpack-covered backs and their youthful conviction of permanence and optimism.

Come back to me.

Life is filled with uncertainty. For every goodbye said has the potential to be the last time we say those words to that person. I am never not aware of that fact. And so I am always asking them for one more time–please come back to me.

I think we are all in the same boat as we find the souls we cherish – the people who make our lives better for having been a part of them. The challenge is letting folks walk away and knowing that someday they won’t return.

That is the type of thinking that can suck a day’s joy from me in a hot minute. If I let it. But one thing that helps me is remembering that just like how Mister Soandso and I leave our fingerprints on our shower door, no matter how far my children travel away from me in their lives and how many hours the Mister’s job takes him away from home, they are still with me.

This is true because no matter how far they go away, their fingerprints are tattooed all over my heart.

Just as it should be.

 

Giving and Receiving Sanctuary

At 3 am on Wednesday, May 25th, a 3 Alarm fire was set outside the sanctuary of First Congregational UCC Vancouver. Fire crews did amazing work to contain the fire to the western end of the sanctuary and also saved the church steeple and cross. The church is insured and will begin the process of rebuilding.

These 56 words may tell the facts of what happened this week, but they don’t tell the whole story of what happened, and they don’t capture the feelings of the many people impacted by the fire.

What remains of our sanctuary and the million dollar renovation we did on this stained glass.

What remains of our sanctuary and the million dollar renovation we did on this stained glass.

And they certainly don’t answer the question a 4 year-old boy asked me, “But why, Miss Kristina, did somebody do this to us?”

When he asked me that, I did the only thing I could think of…I knelt down, held his tiny hand and said, “I don’t know. But I do know we will be okay.”

I’ve fielded many questions as best I could since I first arrived at the church Wednesday at 6 am looking like a person does when they are awoken to the news that their church and place of employment is on fire. (It’s not my best look, to say the least.)

Most of the time I give the same answer to the 44 and 84 year olds as I do for the 4 year olds.

“I don’t know…but we will be okay.”

But the truth is, okay is also going to be different. The space will never be the same, and the people who regularly use this space will change.

This particular sanctuary, and the sanctuary our whole church and building provides has been a sanctuary in our community for 125 years. It wasn’t just the congregants and holiday worshippers of First Congregational UCC Vancouver who are impacted by the fire. We offer meeting space and office space to many organizations in SW Washington. And we are all homeless and adrift right now.

Weight Watchers, Sierra Club, Martha’s Pantry, MCC of The Gentle Shepherd, Vancouver USA Singers, AA Fireside, the Samoan Adventists, Clark County Music Teachers Association, 6 Rivers Mediation, a disabled young man who works in our building as part of his occupational therapy, and two homeless people/families who shelter on our property are a handful of the groups and folks who no longer have a sanctuary.

Some of those organizations have lost everything. Some have lost only scheduled events and meetings. All will need to find new homes.

All around the world there are people who are homeless and adrift, looking for a place to settle down and settle in. They are looking for their sanctuary in which to take shelter from life’s storms. Up until Wednesday, First Congregational UCC Vancouver was happy to say, “Come, you are welcome here. Sit awhile and know that there is always room at our table.”

Today we have to say, “Come, you are welcome to take sanctuary here…under this tent. Sit awhile on this rented plastic chair. There’s plenty of room for all of us if we sit close enough together.”

We’ve always been more than a building giving sanctuary, but for right now we can’t be that. Instead, we have to be a living sanctuary for one another as we get through this day and the next and all the days after. Together…

Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary
Pure and holy, tried and true
With thanksgiving, I’ll be a living
Sanctuary for You

Tested by fire, the cross remains, symbolizing our commitment to peace and justice for all.

Tested by fire, the cross remains, symbolizing our commitment to peace and justice for all.

RBF Versus RBG

Let me start out by saying I’ve had no “work” done aside from the sort of work that life does to you via too many late nights and too much stress. Probably the most effective work that life’s done to me is giving me a serious case of myopia which has had the effect of a lifetime spent mostly squinting.

What I’m getting at here folks is that I have wrinkles. I’ve got some lovely smile lines around my eyes, this one weird ass wrinkle that showed up about 3 months ago above my lip, and a super impressive set of Elevens plus a friend between my eye brows. Continue reading

Pooping May Kill

I know, I know. That title may come off as a bit extreme and even perhaps misleading because we all know that its far more likely that not pooping would be a more probable cause of death. But recent events have led me to believe that all those famous folks who are reported to have died on the toilet were probably not simply victims of bad hearts or poorly timed drug overdoses. Nay, they were most likely victims of poorly aligned vertebrae. Anecdotal evidence only holds so much credence, but seriously, it is possible to put your back out while using the toilet. And when that happens, you may just want to die right there on the commode like the rockstar you are. Continue reading

Things Are Puzzling

IMG_0288I try to get Mister Soandso or my family a puzzle every year at Christmas. For some reason, this feels like a good tradition to continue as both he and I grew up in families that completed jigsaw puzzles over the holidays. This year was no different. Christmas morning  Mister Soandso unwrapped his puzzle and then set it aside. Several days later, it made its way to our coffee table and we started working on it.1000 pieces of various types of candy. It seemed like a pretty sweet deal. Me, the kids, and Mister all puzzling away with cups of cocoa and Christmas musical in the background. Continue reading

Everything Is Silent

Last week I developed laryngitis. In my world, laryngitis is a seasonal thing I know will show up at least a few times every year. Normally I don’t mind it terribly because I’m not a big fan of my voice, it being rather stupid sounding and all. So having a different sounding voice is always a bit like a nice change as far as I’m concerned.

But this was not that sort of laryngitis. This was the sort that instead of making me sound Lauren Bacall-esque, it made me sound silent. As in I lost my whole voice. And, of course, I was scheduled to be talking on Sunday. Continue reading

Groot And The Family Dud

You know how they say opposites attract? Well, Mister Soandso and I knew from our first Halloween together that we were opposites. He’s a Halloween sort of guy and I’m pretty much a Halloween dud. He got dry ice and black lighting to spookify our front porch. I bought candy. And then consoled him which chocolate when we got 1 Trick or Treater.

I know I’ve written about that before but this past weekend served to remind me how much of a dud I am when it comes to my family. I’m not really the dud of my family. Not in the bad pancake sort of way. Much. But I’m not as much fun as everyone else, so in that way, I am pretty dudly. Most times I don’t mind being the dud, but sometimes life reminds you of your shortcomings and life has a bit more sting than usual. Continue reading