Author: alwaysbridging

Day 3

We made it to Iona on this, the third anniversary of Rob’s surgery for bladder cancer. He is well now. Thank God.

I miss Rob AND I am very grateful, over-the-top grateful, simultaneously.

This is my home-away-from-home, a B & B down the lane from the hotel where we share our meals and where most of the others are staying.

Day 2

I signed up for this trip from the wait list and learned I had a space to travel in late April. For this reason, I flew to Glasgow

(pronounced Glaz-go, by Londoners at least) on a later flight than the others.

That meant I had a longer layover in London.

To think this multi-faith prayer space was directly on my route in the giant Heathrow airport while I waited. People like me feel lonely here every day; they get lost…and found.

I took off my shoes and joined the pray-ers, welcoming their quiet company.

Day 1

It takes several traveling legs to get to the island of Iona in Scotland. I started the trek with others from my church today.

My morning question for this pilgrimage is,“Why am I here?” My evening question is,

“What were the gifts?”

In the 11th hour of packing, it occurred to me that I could take along the tiniest stone hearts from the collection I used before I retired, when I counseled kids and their parents. I imagine I will leave a few on the beach as I pray—for the friend who’s waiting for biopsy results, and another one who is suffering complications after surgery. For Rob’s dear brother. For my elderly mother.

Can I offer part of my heart for you too?

My Roe v Wade story is complicated and private. They all are. Suffice it to say: Me Too.

Aching feels crystalline. Yes, the shape in and of itself is vulnerable. It can break. We know that. Likewise, light shines through a crystal. It bounces. It warms and radiates.

Her story of the woman going into her tent that evening in downtown Portland, wagging her bum, with three men watching and licking their chops, has stayed with me. Every time it surfaces, I literally shake my head and try to dis-remember. It hurts that much.

And the institutional overlay: Recently someone asked if I was going to watch the hearings and I responded, “Absolutely not!” I know better. These days, I am too fragile for live-action and in-your-face. And now, my God!, Roe vs Wade overturned. Under the rage is sheer heartbreak.

I hope there is a way to heal this deep ache. I want to pace myself, honor what I know about warmth and radiance. I can wait here on the porch beside the garden watching and absorbing the light. I can share stories. What are yours?