It's a foggy morning in my city. I love fog. Today, though, as I looked out that window instead of at the candles or tapestries, it made me sad.
Life is in flux for me. Many of my friends are entering new chapters in their lives. They're moving, having new children, or returning to work. Sometimes all of the above.
One friend lost her mother on Friday. Another friend is starting her life over after the dissolution of a partnership.
Even this church with the beautiful trees on the hilltop is in transition. My pastor left and I'm nervous that the replacement will not understand that God (like The Dude) abides in nature and people and in my child's smile more than in a building. For me, anyway.
Throughout my childhood, I saw the candles next to the canned chilies and those special Mexican sodas when we went grocery shopping. I was always fascinated by them. Some images were so gory, so not Lutheran in any way shape or form. I never bought one.
Today, though, as I was driving home, I thought about the Madonna. She is the closest thing to the Feminine Divine that I know, and today I wanted to harness some of her strength. Clearly, I've been reading Susan Monk Kidd.
I didn't buy the candle because the boys were fussing. Instead, when I got home, I called my friend and asked him if I could bring his family dinner. They just returned from China with their new son, and the family is adapting to a lot. They are becoming a family of five, which is a beautiful thing. However, even beautiful things take time to settle into loveliness.
They allowed me the privilege of feeding them. The allowed me to harness my own divine mother-love. In a world that changes, I can still cook. I can still nourish.
So cook I did.
Shepherd's Pie, y'all. Comfort food. The good stuff.
I could have spread the mashed potatoes a little thinner. Not this mama. I made MORE.
I made Rice Krispie treats because yesterday was their son's birthday. I'll get him balloons, too.
This is such a small gesture, and I'm helping myself more than I'm helping my friends. But it makes me feel less powerless. It makes me feel like I'm doing my small part to lift the fog, and let the light shine.
And on the way home, I'm buying a candle. Just so I remember what's inside me. What's inside all of us, my sisters.