Are You The Walking Dead?

Are You The Walking Dead? An apropos question for the day before Halloween. In the midst of your daily grind are you walking around in a blur, with no central focus, no mission, no hope? I find myself in this state every once in awhile when I get too focused on the “stuff” of life instead of the miracles that take place before me daily. Walt Whitman wrote, “To me, every cubic inch of space is a miracle.” He hits the nail on the head with this observation, but how often do we really look for and see miracles in our everyday lives? When we aren’t looking for them, we are essentially “the walking dead”. When we look for them, we might be surprised by what we see and how we can be instantly transformed from the walking dead to the spiritually awakened. It happened to me just yesterday. I was driving to church and heard Third Day’s song, “Revelation”. The lyrics go,

“Give me a revelation, show me what to do.

‘Cause I’ve been trying to find my way, I haven’t got a clue.

Tell me should I stay here, or do I need to move?

Give me a revelation, I’ve got nothing without You.”

So, I’m belting out the song, knowing that something is missing in my life. I’m the walking dead. I don’t know how to “move” but through this song, I asked to be shown. Sitting in mass, the gospel reading hits me like a ton of lead. I feel as if the spotlight is on me. I’m exposed. It was Matthew 23: 1-12, which our priest later deciphered as “the masks we wear”. Without being able to describe it myself as I drove into town listening to “Revelation” I realized that I was being burdened by all of the masks I wear. The only consolation was the reminder that we all wear them, but I’ve been particularly burdened by mine, and as our priest said, ”it’s exhausting!” That’s the truth. Instead of being who we truly are, we put up these masks to protect, to hide, to perhaps give the illusion that we’ve got our act together. Exhausting, to say the least! So, as I went up to the altar to take the chalice and then distribute it to the members of our congregation, I saw my reflection in that golden cup. And it was just Cindy. No mask, no hidden self. Just me. What a lovely miracle. As I walked outside after mass, I noticed a single, solitary, perfect red maple leaf smiling up at me on the steps. I went to pick it up and saw another miracle. It was the miracle of change, of letting down my mask, of hope, and of revelation.  I got into my car, and set the leaf down on the seat beside me, turned on the car, only to hear the song “Beautiful Things” by Gungor:

“You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us

All around

Hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make me new, You are making me new.”

It’s a miracle, and I am new. Make that transformation for yourself today. Let every cubic inch of space be a miracle, remove one mask at a time, and be transformed.

Life Around the Kitchen Table

When Tom and I moved into our first home 20 years ago, we bought our first, real kitchen table. It was sturdy, solid oak, and had room enough for six. At the time, it was only Tom, Kenzie and me, but that table followed us as we added Taylor to our family, moved two more times, invited people over for meals, and used it as a place to do homework, roll out Christmas cookies and dye Easter eggs. Last weekend, I said goodbye to our long-time friend, as we passed it along to a family with four young kids. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched the table and six chairs leaving on the back of their truck, knowing that it would be well used and loved just as much.

That very same weekend, we ventured out to find our new table, and it got me thinking how this new table would be a central part of our next 20 years. It’s a glass top table – now that the kids are older, no worries about someone falling and breaking a tooth on it (well, we still have Taylor at home). It is counter-height – no need to pull a high chair up to it. The chairs are leather – don’t have to stress over them being torn up . . . well, again, we still have Taylor. And, it only seats four, nice and comfortably. Sort of like the next phase of our lives, or so I imagine it to be.

Like the song Landslide goes, “time made you bolder, children get older, and I’m getting older too.” Well, I am. Bolder and older, that is. Bold enough to get rid of the past and move confidently into the future as our family morphs into a new phase. Older as I watch our kids become adults. And, when we all come back together on one of those special evenings where we can sit around our new table to talk, eat, and laugh, I think, go ahead and get finger prints all over the new glass table. I just love spending time with you.