Making my way into the kitchen brought silence. It’s easy to enjoy the stillness within the confines of stability, predictability—an offering it is. Too quiet, I thought as it wasn’t all that early. I peered out the kitchen window and recognized the pickup parked in the driveway. All was well.
Familiarity offers stability as the recognizable pickup lay in wait for the day to begin—giving reassurance the owner of it was home and it would be a regular Saturday upon the farm.
It’s going on 40 years now of being married to the pickup man—and not all pickups throughout the years have been gray ones. Now, he sorta matches his and I like that. Did I mention that in all those years of being married, never once have we owned a garage in which to park the pickup? Best part about not having a garage is that I need not peer into it to know if he’s home. I need merely peek out the window to assess the situation.
Same sorta thing happens come evening. As the pickup lights blink their way down the driveway, it signals we will have yet another evening at home and for that I am grateful. Funny how that goes…the rhythm of life underneath the current of life…which ebbs and flows… I pause—trying not to take too much for granted. But at times I do take things for granted because I am mere mortal.
There have been times when the pickup has pulled in late and I’ve wondered if I’d have another morning view of it, much less the farmer within it. Not all have the luxury of lingering talks upon the porch from bird feeder vantage point like we do. Not all have the luxury of walking country roads in the not-so-quiet with new pup on leash as she unleashes energy much too powerful for our stage in life. Yet, the pickup man will not admit it. And that’s okay cause I think pup is an offering of stability signaling life will go on and we will be participants of.
The weekend will welcome a few chores, and just for today, the country roads are quieter than normal as the county fair is in full swing. Nothing is on the horizon for traveling here or there other than groceries. We buy instead of eat out cause we get more stability with the dollar when we do. Nothing on the radar other than calling dad who is now on hospice and each time he picks up, it is an offering of stability and I don’t want to take one second for granted—ever.
After the quiet of Saturday comes Sunday and it’s all an offering as we prayerfully respond to the invitation to come worship. Neighbors are counting on neighbors to show up cause they need us and we need them, and the offering of ourselves to others is a constant and I like that, too.
I suppose, though, neighbor-to-neighbor is no offering if one does not first go to be reconciled to our brothers at the altar of our hearts. Only then can we be poured out as an offering according to Matthew 5:23–24. As we still, as we pause, and as we go to a place within for examine—confessing will bring fruit which will be all His as it is only He who offers true stability both now and forever—in Jesus name. Amen.
This article was first published in Theology in the Trenches, a column written by oblate Kathleen Kjolhaug. Posted with permission. Read more articles on her blog, Theology in the Trenches.