Monday Morning Musing: More

This week I talked at length with a friend whose father had died suddenly, without warning, and by today's actuarial schedules, too young. And then I checked in on a parishioner whose beloved wife did the same. And today I will check in on a mother in her thirties battling a brain tumor. In all three cases, these dear people have been made aware of what they no longer have - their beloved by their side, a certain future.

Our grandgirl has mastered the sign for "more" in sign language. She doesn't use it often for food, but she uses it frequently for experiences. More reading of the book. More playing outside. More music and dancing. More Momma. More Dada. Her Dada told me that on a recent trip to the coast she was so enamored by the seagulls that at night in their hotel room she would sign more and point to the door. He would take her outside to the parking lot where they would watch the loud birds squawk through the skies above.

I remember a season when everything around me told me I needed more. More stuff, more things, more cars, more square footage in my home. More jewelry, more clothes, more fancy but generally useless things to put on the shelves in my big house.

Turns out, none of that is true. I don't need more stuff or bigger things. As I've really learned about myself I've learned that I love a small home and my five year old car with the houndstooth seats. I love having things on my shelves that hold memories and meaning. And I love using them - the china tea set (missing a few pieces) that was my Nanny's. The candlesticks that belonged to my Beloved's mother. We light the candles in them almost every night. Because some day we won't have more time. And we'll want it. More time to light candles and talk to our beloveds and remember together the fun we've had not, how much stuff we'd accumulated in our big houses.

Reality Check: I have more than most people in the world. I'm aware of my privilege and of the economic realities of living in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, with an education that has afforded me a job I love, even if it is not a job that will ever produce material wealth. I mean, that's how it should be - Jesus has a lot to say about wealth.

Reality Check, #2: I have BINS of Christmas decorations and Fall decor in my basement. Bins of it. And I'm not adverse to having more. I confess.

Reality Check, #3: I love paper napkins and old linens - tablecloths and napkins. So, I have more of those than I really need too. Oh, and purses and bags. Yep. More of those than I need, too.

Thanks for allowing me that little birdwalk; my musings were getting a touch sanctimonious there.

My point, on this first Monday in August, is that the things I want more of aren't things at all. I want more days where the scales tip toward gentle joy than worry. I want more days with my kids and my grands. I want more moments with my Beloved who is still the greatest surprise of my whole life. I want more time in ministry that is holy, rather than time listening to people complain about something I am doing or not doing, or the church is doing or not doing. (Sometimes, if we are very lucky those complaints can turn into holiness). I want more hummingbirds visiting the feeder on the porch while I sit and read. I want more poetry and music. I want more first leaves falling to the ground and first snowfalls and first flowers of spring.

Some of this is within our choosing and some things just happen unbidden - bringing more joy or sorrow or heartache all on their own. More life. More love. More.