Jeremiah 28:5-9; Matthew 10:40-42; Fifth Sunday after Pentecost; July 2, 2023
In the summer of ‘86, a boy and his family moved to a new house and neighborhood.
The home was larger than he could have imagined. Everyone had their own bedroom. Everyone had their own bathroom! There was of course a kitchen and a living room, and even what his parents called, “a family room.” There was a nice sized yard in the back, a wide driveway for sledding and for coloring with chalk out front; and there was a bonus room, a huge playroom for both him and his brother, full of toys and movies and every little thing any spoiled boy could ask for.
Best of all though were the woods across the street. For the trees were like giants, and the leaves numbered the millions, and there were paths that went this way and that into seemingly endless directions. In the early days, the boy would explore these paths and get hopelessly lost, and then follow the breadcrumbs laid down in Legos in the form of a cross. It was all so wonderful, and fanciful, like a story his dad would read to him at night; and he couldn’t have been happier even though he sometimes wondered if he might.
And then in a handful of years he was proven right, for she moved in. And moved in right next door! And she was the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen, prettier than a princess, fairer than a Disney queen. He would stare out of their family room window, and wait for her to come home, and one day, he promised himself, that he would ask her to play.
But when the moment would appear, he never quite knew the right words to say. And so, he would get shy and run away, or stammer out something in a pitch so quiet that not even a dog could hear it. But apparently, she enjoyed all of this. For soon she was knocking on his door and inviting him to play, inventing games to do her bidding and somewhere in between saying things like:
“Could you catch me a butterfly?” Oh, of course! He would say.
“Could you bring me it tomorrow?” Absolutely! He would say.
“How about some water?” Warm or cold? He would ask.
“Cold, she would say… Will you marry me someday?” Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! He would say.
One day she gave him a vase, that had a painting of a boat. And the next day some flowers, with some water for their moat. And every night he gave thanks, and every morning he prayed. And every afternoon they climbed trees, and every evening they ran races; and other times they went to church and at others, laid on blankets. And one day saw they fireworks after enjoying a picnic, with cold cuts and grapes, because, as she would say, “that’s how grownups would do it.”
On the last day of summer, she promised this wouldn’t end; that at the end they would be friends, if not love each other therein. She took out a Magic-8 Ball and said, “make a wish.” He instead offered a prayer rehearsed from his morning list, saying: No matter what happens, no matter what comes, I will remember, both now and forever.
And after that they held hands, and they traced pictures on their skin. And they stole as much time as they could until the moon moved in. And then the boy went home and slept the sleep of angels, and in the morning, he prayed again, and attended to her flowers.
And things continued like that, for a time, for some years. But as you know how this goes, few things last forever. For once, later, a winter came early and outstayed its welcome. And the two grew apart and remembered each other seldom. But sometimes the boy would ask why? and watch from his window and stare at the sky. But behind him the flowers had died, and the vase with the vessel was now cracked and broken.
A couple of years later, she walked up his driveway and put her face to the window. There was clearly no one home but she still rang the doorbell. She left him a note and addressed it from her name… It said: “Let’s start over. I’ll catch you a butterfly and a ring.”
… but when the boy who was now grown got back home, he didn’t see her name, and thinking it was junk, he threw it out all the same. And so, it was like it wasn’t written, and was lost and forgotten. And the feelings that were so sweet soon disappeared as if unbegotten.
But three years later the girl who was now a woman wrote it again, persistent and intent on changing life’s plan; and though she wanted to mail it, she figured, “ah, let’s try this again.” So, she walked up his driveway and looked through his window, and this time he was home, but he was sleeping also. So, she knocked gently on the door, and in her heart there was a flutter, but he suddenly flung it open and feigned like she was a stranger. She said, “but, remember, remember the picnic and the promises, the flowers and the games? Let’s make peace today…” But he cut her off saying they should remain in their own lanes.
Now, instead of the morning, it was that night that he prayed. And he prayed for his forgiveness, for being so unkind and militant. And so, he called her on the phone, but when she picked up, he heard nothing at all, for grace doesn’t come easy, especially when love stalls.
More years passed, and life came and went. One marriage went this way, and another was never sent. And the man found himself older and sitting in the shadows. A bottle nearby and some pills by the windows. He remembered his chance. The day his love came calling. Oh, why was he such an idiot? Why was he so unwelcoming? If only he could take it back, and not throw it away, if only he could reverse, and go at it another way.
And so, like a kid, he drew up phony plans and imagined conversations, and he wrote her name in the sand, and drew her face in constellations. And it got so dire, that he said to himself, it’s either now or never, I don’t care if she doesn’t remember, or has forgotten me forever.
And so, he wrote her an email from an old address that he found, and prayed that she was still using it, if not alive and sound. It said:
I’m not sure if you remember me,
But if you do, is there any chance I can give my apology?
I’ll catch you a butterfly,
And pick you a flower.
Or if you want, we can get tea, or coffee,
Or just some water somewhere.
Well, immediately, if not miraculously, she wrote back and said, “let’s walk.” And he responded The High Line, but she amended, “The Park.”
And they walked for hours, though it only felt like minutes; and they said few things at first for much can happen in silence. Then, near the lake, which was cool but misty-green, she took his hand and on his shoulder her head she leaned. And he began to dream as if he were asleep: Could this be true? Could there be redemption? Perhaps this is what it’s like to gain entry to Heaven?
As if sensing his thoughts, she whispered “it is.” And then recited his prophecy from when they were kids: “No matter what happens, no matter what comes, I will remember, both now and forever.”
His heart melted and he fell to his knees. And he said that he was sorry for his sins in their seas. She said, “I forgave you and a long time ago at that; all that we have is now, so let’s not travel back.”
He kissed her on the cheek and recited a prayer in her ear. She kissed him on the lips, and said, “my love was always near.”
They walked and they walked and came upon a store with some old clocks and antiques. And he spotted a vase in the back and said look, this one’s new. And it’s got a boat just like the one that you gave me in ‘92!
But she said, “oh, not that one, for its lines are too perfect. Life is not always so pretty nor direct. No, look at this one here that is all cracked and broken, glued and restored. This one’s more like us, who God has walked through this door. See, there are no magic wands. All the scars still show. But since our promises were true, we’ve been rewarded also. Not through some luck, or a letter here or there, but through real battles of patience, grace, and forgiveness.”
His tears flowed but she caught them in her hand. And then they walked amongst the trees with their vase in his hand. This time there were no Legos, but a cross all the same, for with God there is salvation, and healing for our names.
And the boy and the girl, now man and woman, live freely and peacefully among their old ruins.
Amen.
