Holy Ground.

I spent the weekend with my mom in Virginia and felt really strongly that I needed to write about it. I haven't been here on the blog in over two years but no better place I guess.

Mom's brother - my uncle - Tom was diagnosed with a brain tumor less than a month ago. Some named mass that I can't pronounce or spell that is slowly stealing him from the life he loves. He had surgery two weeks ago and it didn't go as expected - those angry tendrils are still reaching further into his smart, healthy brain - a brain that has guided this man through a life of projects, work, raising a family, and meeting adored grandchildren. I haven't posted about it much other than a vaguepost because it isn't my story to tell but we covet your prayers all the same.

But, I didn't come here to write about a brain stolen. I came here to tell you a story about Holy Ground in a hospital room.

Tom and his wife Eutanaha have been married 46 years today. I know they never thought this year's celebration would take place in a hospital room but I want to tell you about what I saw, born of those  years. He told the story of how they met and how she ignored him at college graduation. He told the story of getting married in record breaking cold in Birmingham, Alabama and claimed my mom was his best man. He talked about moving to North Carolina and then Virginia, always side by side. He spoke a lot about his children and grandchildren and all the things he still wants to do with them.

And then he told her that he would still choose her all over again. That she's still the only one for him.

I jokingly asked her if he was always so romantic and she laughed and said "No." And you know what she did? She served him. She fed him. She loved him, guided him, and spoke calmly to him in his frustration with being dealt a hand he cannot win . She was love with hands and feet.

There are moments in our lives when we don't realize that we are being allowed to glimpse the ground where Jesus has walked. You wouldn't think that room - full of wires and beeping and needles and broken hearts would be but let me tell you --- it was Holy Ground. To bear witness to their lives, filled with love and joy and grief - and watch them stand firm in a peace that passes our understanding and to know that in the midst of this storm, there is still a good Father. Oh friends, that is Holy Ground.