Friends are saying goodby to parents and spouses and siblings and cousins and nieces. Friends are wondering how interviews are going to turn out, how to take the next turn. Friends are recovering from surgeries. Friends are wondering about the new guy. Friends are wondering how much of the pain in the world they can absorb. Friends are wrestling with what Lent means to them, and are struggling to keep up with those choices. Already.
You are among those friends. Because I’ve been having these conversations with you. I hear you. I’ve been talking with God about you.
And as I sit writing this between conversations, drinking the tea in the photo from the mug in the photo, I know that I don’t have enough energy to hold all of that pain and uncertainty, to offer enough answers and hope. At this moment.
But what I know is that in the same way that Jesus needed a break, we do. For a moment today, whenever today is that you are reading this, go make a cup of tea.
Seriously. Because as I wrote several years ago, the process of making tea slows me down enough to think.
And at the moment, many of us need to slow down enough to think and to lament and to grieve. There will be time for doing. Large significant transforming doing.
But for you, I think, I give you permission to grieve.