The depths of mercy...

I wanted to write this more fully, but I cannot find the words, so I am merely re-posting what I slapped up on Facebook (with an edit for clarity at the end).

I want to write a longer piece on my blog, but I also wanted to just briefly say that, today, our triune God deepened my understanding of mercy. Something about the way Bonnie wrote that what Steve wanted was chocolate for his men made me want that, too. [And not because of my deep, abiding belief that chocolate is a bit of heaven that survived the fall.]

I haven't given gifts in so long because all I do is charge things and then pay it off with retirement funds that, until the next withdrawal, were heavily penalized. It didn't make sense buying *things* when soon I won't be able to buy medications. Only I bought GREEN nail polish and a rather silly red hair color. I am so confused of late about money.

But Sandra, again, took me to Target (even after being tortured at the doctor) and one of the things I bought (in addition to the coconut milk, Mary) was enough chocolate to fill up a flat rate mailing box. At the post office, there was a long line so I simply sat down on the floor. I had my wheel chair with me, but it is impossible to maneuver it in the space around the center post.

This woman--a stranger--next to me sat down, too, so I was not alone. Long story short, she has battled a different sort of innards misery and has lost everything, really, and yet had only mercy for me there. Standing to fill out the rather confusing customs form was too much, so this woman filled it out for me. She made my little chocolate gift possible, really, for I would have fallen and probably fainted and then ... well, she made it possible.

And, well, the depths part of the mercy came in the most perfectly timed, rather persistent effort of my pastor to reach me, who is now coming on Thursday to bring me the Lord's Supper and to pray for my father. Thank you, Sandra, for letting him know. The sweetest Gospel bit about the call was that my pastor said he would write things down for me.  I had never asked him to do that, nor had I talked with him about the rapid changes in my cognitive abilities, especially memory.  He offered all on his own, because the truth is I wouldn't dare ask him to write things to help me the way the signs do.  So few see the help I need.  Most choose to see the parts of my ex-professor brain that are still there.


Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.