Or at least that is our hope.
I spent today in meetings intended to ease the passage of broken humanity towards their final journey.
A family torn apart. A strong man laid low at the end of his life by dementia. His wife in a nursing home. His daughter brain damaged and bed bound. His son sitting in the wreckage wondering how it all came to this.
In many ways these are such ordinary things. Life begins, it may stutter but it also flourishes…
And finally- it all will come to an end.
The meaning we search for in all of this is often obfuscated and elusive. Seen only in the corner of our eyes. Glimpsed in small things and magnified by love.
Like this son, and his shaky hands. Committing himself to care.
Paul told this story the other day- about the Emmaus Road. How two men were on the road- getting the hell out of Dodge. Running away from disaster and defeat. Away from the end of all their plans and hopes. It was finished.
Little did they know- they were heading away from Grace.
But in the story, Grace was not directional- it was not geographical. Or available only to the accidental tourist.
It went after the men.
And walked with them.
Shared some stories and shortened the miles with laughter.
And this is our hope my friends- that all our roads lead towards grace.