in which we circle and become broken Bread

The loop of us, we become like children again.

The Cheez-its wind their way, over and under, sprinkling the one-year-old's open palms, then into the grip of the three-year-old, whose father cautiously guides.  The old and the young partake together.  The box goes on and on, until all are invited.  And even with the snap of sharp cheddar, they taste like the broken Body of Jesus on my tongue, because I sit circled among the wounded.  But the carnage and the pain, the stress and the pretense, they just drip right out of the holy and real.  Making room for crumbs to constitute healing.

And all that is left, when the box is empty, is Life.

We remember that we are but dust, and don't try to be more.  Talking and loving and questioning and listening and laughing.  Oh, how the laughing heals.  We laugh because we hurt, but we hurt less as we laugh.  Because our laughter isn't alone.  It echoes in our circle.

Just like the pain.

There are tears and there is passion.  I am mostly passion.  Because I am a fighter.  And I used to fight the wrong battles, but the familiar face of Compassion shows me how to walk with a limp.  That victorious limp.  And now I fight to set captives free.  For those who along the way opted for slavery and lost the desire for freedom.  Because I am one of them. 

Masks come off with our shoes, as we discover where we stand.

And What burns in our hearts.

We let go of all the smothering adult proprieties, the ones holding us back and keeping us bound.  Lack of courage (such a famine in the land) and right answers and fearful silence -- these calloused, metal arms entwined around our wrists -- hit the floor.  With the crumbs. 

And we fall, too.

Loose from the chains.  Free from the fear.  Absolved from misguided piety.
Breathing cheese crackers and knowing what it is to partake of the Bread.

It feels so curious.  So dangerous and safe, at the same time.  Like a disciple who leaves all behind and never looks back.  Not because he knows where he's going, but because he knows the One who is The Way.
For, indeed, "all who wander are not lost." (Tolkien) 

And we land in the circle of each other's arms.

The broken Body of Jesus has never been so strong
                     -- so beautiful --
as the day the brave share Cheez-its through our tears.

And Wholeness entwines hearts.

Sharing today with Ann, Jennifer, Jen, Duane, Emily, and Laura.