Thank you for the STD and other DIY

Okay there are 2 do-it-yourself (DIY) projects done.

Our Assistance were: Cardstock, punches, 12 sticks of glue, rubber bands, and some time.

The first (and one of the least important) project that we have finished is 200 Thank You Notes. I'm not sure how many thank you notes anyone need, but if we run out we'll figure things out from there. Doing this project, and similar ones, are such a gift to me. I find more and more that creating is such a centering activity for me. This is a crazy busy time for me at work so coming home and creating something has been a relief and a pleasure.

More recently Beloved and I made 70 Save the Dates (STDs) We aren't sending them to everyone. We want to hold on to some flexibility with our guest list in case things change. Besides that we aren't sending ANY to my family. Sending any to my family means sending a ton. I'm just going to count on them to talk to each other! Our primary purpose in sending these is to give ample time for anyone who needs to purchase a plane ticket. That way they can try to find a deal ahead of time. We really want to make it so our friends who aren't from Pocahontas (we don't have any friends from Pocahontas actually) to be able to come to the wedding.

Among both of these projects were logistical details and complications. But more intersting than these details was the conversation overheard while copying in Staples...

At the copy center there were 2 men, probably in their 80's both with hats on, canes, comfortable shoes and faces and hands with history etched into them. While doing business at the copy center they were talking about how great life was in 1927. Their two critiques of contemporary society were how corrupted all young people are and how people just go to prison to get an education! My prison chaplain self nearly flipped a lid. The arrogance and somehow the brokeness of these two men infuriated me and hurt me. I sense the way that they must feel terribly threatened by contemporary society, underestimated, and unknown. Yet their response, as a I see it, is not one that is grace filled, but is filled with bitterness and lament.

It makes me long to be with Beloved when he is old. And it makes me long for grace as we age. That we can see gifts and find graces no matter how deeply they are buried. Is that perhaps the real DIY project. To seek this in our age. . . We don't make ourselves exactly but our choices are contributors as is our perpective.


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