Tuesday, August 7, 2012


I did not write these words. My old friend Frederick Buechner (I know him well through his works)  did. I wish I had because they certainly ring true for me. Today and always.

A sacrament is when something holy happens. It is transparent time, time when you can see through to something deep inside time. ...In other words, at such milestone moments as seeing a baby baptized or being baptized yourself, confessing your sins, getting married, or dying, you are apt to catch a glimpse of the almost unbearable preciousness and mystery of life.

Needless to say, church isn't the only place where the holy happens. Sacramental moments can occur at any moment, any place and to anybody. Watching someone or something get born. Making love. A high-school graduation. Somebody coming to see you when you are sick. A meal with people you love. Looking into a stranger's eyes and finding out he's not a stranger.

If we weren't blind as bats, we might see that life itself is sacramental.

    The Daughter is on the cusp of pregnancy. Her belly is swollen with the child she carries. Her movements have slowed. She has become very purposeful in these last few days as she awaits the birth of her son. However her toddler, Little One, is still running and jumping and skipping through each day with the same rapidity and a seemingly unending supply of energy. It is a paradox to watch the two together. One like quicksilver and one who is gently turning inward as she prepares herself for what lies ahead.

    I see in both the elements of grace. The dance of life in its ever-changing beauty. Both moving inexorably toward what, for them, are uncharted waters. Little One will soon have the gift of a sibling. And The Daughter and her husband will stretch open the circle of their arms, their lives and their home to welcome another child, a son this time.

    The grace is that the love will not be diminished. It will only multiply, its fount the source of all being, the One who gives life and breath and everything else to His children.

     We are waiting, mindful to see with eyes wide open the "unbearable preciousness and the mystery of life" revealing itself yet again.

  Hands that cradle
Hands that are eager to welcome

Mother And Baby
Hands that will soon be open to the wonder of it all

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