It is three in the morning and I should be in bed! However, I believe I just had one of the best nights of my life and am too excited to really sleep.
How can this be so? How can I have such a wonderful time when my heart aches so? I do not understand. I truly did not.
On a scale of one to ten, the evening was a ten, despite a few key missing ingredients I had to scramble around for in order to serve the dinner I wished to gift. To combat my diseased brain, I had made three lists: one by dinner course, one divided by what I needed to pack from home and one for everything that I had to purchase, and one that was a shopping list. Despite my precautions, I left the lemon, the crescent roll dough, and the dried cranberries at my home. Pizza Man's bride fetched the dough on the way home and had the other two items in her pantry. She also fielded many a call from me trying to find what I needed in their kitchen or to reduce my panic about what I forgot. Each call she was gracious about helping me and never once referred to the repeated calls.
One reason, I believe the evening was wondrous is that Pizza Man and his family are so utterly peaceful to be around. Truly, I can not say as if I have ever met any more welcoming, accepting, and safe folk. I had brought my comfortable clothes with me, wondering how I could manage an invite to change into them, only to have his bride come downstairs after she came home in her own sweats! Clothing aside, sometimes I wonder if being in a family is what it is like being around them. Nothing they know about my past matters to them and they are willing to talk about it if I want. Nothing I say is stupid or selfish or wrong. Nothing I do is stupid or selfish or wrong. As utterly strange as it sounds to me, they take delight in my presence. I do not understand that when I am either crying to Pizza Man, lying on their floor trying to recover from illness, or running away from their company. They put their boys on the phone to talk to me, they call me, they welcome me, they changed plans to be at my baptism and longed to see my Augsburg moment almost as much as I. They take me to the doctor's office. They accept my silence. They welcome my voice. Even when I was JUMPING UP AND DOWN AND TWIRLING AROUND in their kitchen because I discovered that I got the bible study homework quiz RIGHT. Pizza Man merely picked up the phone to call 911 in case I hurt myself leaping about. When I started looking wildly about the kitchen, he chuckled to his sister that I was surely searching for my green phone so that I could call Pastor and demand my prize. I chortled wickedly over my victory and all they did was laugh with me. If I told them I wanted to hide in the laundry room so that I could listen to bible study but not have to see people, I know...I just know...they would somehow make it happen without batting an eyelash, all the while encouraging me and uplifting me, but never requiring that I be anything other than who I am. I do not understand them. They puzzle me.
They did find all my food choices sumptuous and were properly overwhelmed with my wine selection. While I could have been better at packing, my cooking was no where near the disaster I feared it might be. The homemade (now chutney) sauce was favorable and a perfect change to the recipe. They heartily enjoyed the sweet goat's milk and fig cheese and found the applewood smoked bacon wrapped baby asparagus tasty. Even my wild greens and herb salad was a hit. Truly sating an appetite is a welcome thing.
After dinner, I cleaned the dishes, while Pizza Man and his sister sang hymns to me and his bride readied the boys for bed. Standing at the sink was excruciating for I had already been on my feet too long. So, the hymns were even more welcome. I did not have to clean; I just wanted that to be a part of my thank-you gift. When I was finished washing up, I was privileged to read a book to each of their sons and sing a song over him. The youngest crawled right into my lap and I could have stayed there all night with him. Then, while Pizza Man's wife took the boys to bed, he and his sister and I sang more hymns...I actually taught them some of the ones I am learning from Pastor's audio files. I will say, all three of them really liked the idea of having audio files and would like some of their own. Caught up in their own wistfulness, I found myself offering to make files for them of the songs I know. I care not for how I sound on tape, but I know how much they mean to me and I want to share the wealth that is the hymnody Pastor is bestowing upon me.
Then, they indulged me in the teaching and playing of Rumikub, of which I managed to eek out a win even with the rather stiff competition. Once they play a few more hands, I suspect all three of them will be winning like Bettina's husband. I shall be losing a lot, I believe.
We finished the final chunk of the evening doing the Close of Day office of prayer, singing more hymns, reading Psalms (Pizza Man read psalm 103 and then we all read Psalm 136), and praying. Pizza Man's sister has many an interesting perspective and I wished that I knew her better.
I did share with them the bit about Romans 12 that Pastor said I missed in my exposition on Friday. Remember how in 1Peter that "be holy" was actually a passive verb, not active. We are not to set about making ourselves holy but rather we are holy because Christ has made us so. Well, that is the same for the renewing and conforming part of that passage. They are passive verbs. I am not to do them because God has already done them, is doing them, and will do them! His sister commented that that was pretty important, those passive verbs, and that we should be reminded of such truth frequently. I heartily and absolutely agree.
Another reason I enjoyed the evening was that it ended with hugs. I fled from them after the night of the concert. They were too hard to bear. But I miss, for example, how Pastor's wife used to always hug me when she saw me. She's really the only one who does so and...well...human contact makes me feel less the leper at times. But how can I tell her that it is okay to start hugging me again? That sounds a strange combination of childish and selfish to me. Tonight both Pizza Man's sister and his lovely bride hugged me goodbye.
I awoke this morning to find another hymn in my inbox, one Pastor thought might bring solace. I thought that it was in response to my post of last night, but he had not read it. From his message, I do not believe he understands why I feel such anguish, which makes me sadder. Still, having another hymn was a truly unexpected pleasure.
Abide with Me
Abide with me, fast fall the evening tide
The Darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fial and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
I need Thy presence ev'ry passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
Who likes Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.
Come not in terrors, as the King of kings,
But what kind and good, with healing in Thy wings;
Tears for all woes, a heart for ev'ry plea,
Come, Friend, of sinners, thus abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changes not, abide with me.
I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies.
Heav'n's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee,
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
(LSB 878)
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