Tuesday, December 22, 2020            (today’s lectionary)
On the road again
Mary remained with Elizabeth about three months and then returned to her home.
Can I go home again? From Austin to Urbana, from Urbana back to Austin, where is my home anyway? I look through the rooms, out the windows, gather and arrange our stuff, and wait for people. Where is our home? It’s where our people are, and in particular, where the young people are. The older I get, the more I want to be around young people. Like grandkids, when I get the chance.
I prayed for this child, and the Lord granted my request. Now I, in turn, give him to the Lord. As long as he lives, he shall be dedicated to the Lord. And she left Samuel there.
We were talking to Andi, Miles’ mom. Seemed like Miles almost grabbed the phone from her and asked slowly, with his carefully crafted words, “Grandma, when I come to your house, can I mix colors?”
And Grandma told him, “Yes!”
And he said, “Because God made all the colors in the world, and I want to see them.” And in Grandma’s smile, rainbows begin dancing on her head.
When we walk through Andi and Aki’s front door, Jasper walks to me with strong intention. He reaches out his arms. His smile is a mile wide. I pick him up and tickle his nose, and he throws back his head and abandons himself to laughter. Rainbows are dancing on my head, too!
The Lord giveth and he takes away; he is the Lord of death and life. He casts down to the underworld and raises up again. The Lord makes poor and makes rich. He humbles and he also exalts. He raises the needy from the dust.
In the car I’m listening to Johnny Cash and  Willie Nelson sing about the highway. As usual last night when I checked in to the Texarkana motel, there were no families. No women, either. Just a few guys working, driving, settling down for a long winter nap. I pray for them, and in the morning before sunrise I’m on my way. From family in the north to family in the south, I am always heading home.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior. He has mercy on those who fear him and scatters the proud in their conceit. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.
Nothing lasts forever except joy. When Mary rejoices in God her savior, she invites me too. She whirls in the forever-dance which has no end. But God gives and he takes away. I began as dust, and to dust I shall return. In my quiet hunger, yearning for food from the Lord, he fills me with good things and has mercy on me. My body notwithstanding. The dance where Mary leads me lies within my soul.
Alone in a motel, laughing with a precious child, or driving up and down the highway, at the beginning and in the end, we’re all in the forever-dance together.
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