The AT&T technician came yesterday morning–yes, a Sunday–to fix our DSL. We kept losing our connection.
By the time he left, it was too late to make it to church 20 miles away. I really wanted to go because I’d hardly been in the last few weeks–no, months, what with being gone so much.
But we had time, with time to spare, to make it into town just five miles away.
To the church my husband grew up in.
Where his mom elbowed his dad in the ribs many times during a sermon.
The one we used to go to when we first moved home from Georgia.
Where I learned to play bells and spoke at my first women’s retreat.
Where my daughter was Mary in the Christmas play.
Where we’ve since lost connections with so many.
Like Phil. My husband went to school with him. We didn’t know he’d had a stroke. This was his first day back to church in weeks.
Dennis remembers the evening Phil had just come home from a trip out east. Dennis mentioned on the phone that we had lost our power, and Phil was ready to jump back in his car and run to the store, after already driving 600 miles or so that day, to bring us flashlights or candles or whatever we needed.
We’d never even have thought of that.
But Phil is like that. Always thinks of others first.
Julia was there. We remember taking the kids out to pick corn at their farm. She remembered me singing a solo–and assured me it was a good memory. I think she was just being nice.
Another lady remembers a turnaround in her life that she attributes to my prayers. We didn’t know she’d lost her husband a couple of years ago. We didn’t know he’d taken his own life.
This is the church where Dennis remembers Mr. Saums giving the Sunday School kids a piece of gum and telling them, “This will give you something to do with your mouths while I run mine.”
Mr. Saums is gone now.
We’ve lost so many connections.
Today they started a new series called “Memories of Sunday School,” with plans to discuss a familiar Bible character each week–using flannel graphs, juice and cookies, Sunday School songs, and even Bible drills.
I wonder if the pastor will pass out gum.
Anyway, today he talked about Noah. And how he got the call to build a boat in the middle of the desert.
Noah, not the pastor.
Because Noah had connections.
He was righteous and blameless and walked with God.
Nobody else did. Their connections were corrupt.
And so Noah, almost 600 years old, picked up a saw and climbed ladders and pounded nails on a timetable. In preparation for a coming storm. Persisting in a sea of laughter and ridicule.
And then he and his family and all those animals went inside.
And God Himself shut them in..
I wonder if those on the outside reconsidered their own connections once it was too late, as the rain fell and the boat rose toward heaven.
God kept Noah and his family safe in the ark because He’d found Noah righteous.
Those who chose to break connections died.
The pastor suggested that discontent causes people to turn to evil.
But now I’m a little sidetracked.
Maybe discontent also causes us to break connections that matter.
I’m still thinking on this.
Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked faithfully with God. ~Genesis 6:9 (NIV)
“Discontent causes people to turn to evil.” I believe this and have actually been thinking so much along these lines these last few days. Only I would’ve substituted “grief” or “misery” for discontent.”
I’ve been skipping along the straight and narrow for awhile, but I find myself longing–in my grief and misery for unhealthy things. I wish I just meant food, but I don’t. I mean cigarettes and beer and people who make me laugh but don’t nudge me closer to Jesus.
I was thinking about you just this morning. Truly. Wondering how you’re doing, really, and if you ever want to put the smack down on people who say all the wrong things.
Oh, sweet Brandee. My heart aches for you. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve wanted to smack down on anyone–this time. Most are way caring and understanding. Losing a baby in the womb (or tube)–well, that’s another story. Others don’t always understand that kind of grief. It’s a loss that isn’t as visible, and people don’t always grasp that kind of pain.
Back then, though? Yep, there were a lot of people I wanted to smack down for saying the wrong things.
Wrapping my arms around you, girl. Hang in and hang on.
What a wonderful, meandering post. I truly mean that. I was with you all the way. And now I’ll go ponder for awhile.
HI Kathy!
Meandering. I like that description. 🙂
Maybe it wasn’t an accident that your DSL had to be fixed on a Sunday. I don’t want to even think of all the people I’ve lost connection to. Maybe I should, huh?
It hadn’t worked right for months, but I couldn’t set up a time until I knew I was home to stay. So I grabbed their first option. Crazy, right?
Been thinking on this one and the circumstances that led you to re-connect.
🙂
Brought tears to my eyes…only because I have connections that seems to be breaking and it’s breaking my heart… Fixing my eyes on Jesus.
I love your tender heart, my friend.
Love the way you wove this together… connecting the dots.
Kind of surprised myself at where this dot-connecting led. 🙂
Amazing how those connections can become corrupted. Time/neglect/intention/laziness – even grief/disappointment/rejection. Thought provoking meander here, Sandy. Very much so…
Yes, all of that.
“Maybe discontent also causes us to break connections that matter.”
Withdrawal is a normal reaction for me when I am overwhelmed by life and I have to be very careful about this. Setting boundaries and pulling back when rest and a break is needed is one thing, but ongoing disconnection, in the end, only adds to trouble. It isn’t rest. It’s now part of the problem. I know this about myself and need to be vigilant, to not follow my natural tendency to withdraw and keep on withdrawing. “Do not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing…” from Hebrews 10:25 is never far from my thoughts.
I felt I visited that church along with you. Thanks!
I love the thoughts this post is bringing out! Especially when I felt a little disconnected about even posting it.
I sang in a 100-voice choir in our Georgia church. The youth group was huge, and the youth choir traveled to Europe. When we moved, it was pretty much assumed that we would attend this church. But as our kids got old, we left for a “bigger and better” youth experience. Thing was–they never had an interest in getting super involved anyway. As much as we love where we are now, I’m not sure the connection breaking was worth it. It’s not as easy to minister to–or be ministered to–by a distant church family.
And I so hear where you’re coming from about withdrawing when overwhelmed. I have that tendency, too. Thinking now about setting boundaries vs. disconnecting. Thank you.
You had me back in my old church, sitting on those small wooden Sunday School chairs, listening to flannel graph stories told by many dear saints who have now gone on to glory. The connections in this body of Christ–something for me to think about today. You, and all the dear people I’ve met in this weird, wide internet world are connected to me and to all those dear saints who first taught me about Jesus. It all connects.
I never went to Sunday School growing up. 🙁
But I love going vicariously through the stories of others–and love how it all connects.
Just lovely. Truly a surprise blessing to be able to revisit with all those people and bring up those memories.