Brown Bag on Broadway Lake

A day trip of a mere four hours to a bucolic lake a mere eight miles from my house proved important in a number of respects. It was one of those journeys into relationship rather than one into the history of the ancient castles of Europe or the picturesque mountains of the Blue Ridge Escarpment of Appalachia. Some musings came from my time with Bob at his cabin on the lake.

It has been my great fortune to have enjoyed opulent meals in some truly grand restaurants. I recall the magnificent meals on the 95th floor of the John Hancock Center in Chicago. One time during a sumptuous dinner we could see lightning striking below, the sky above and beneath us turning that magnificent lavender hue. There was the incredible Windows to the World restaurant on top of the World Trade Center. The helicopters below were like honey bees going from flower to flower, shuttling unknown VIPs from the top of one building to another. There were grand meals in Paris, Tokyo, Bangkok, Antwerp, Jakarta, and London. There was a stupendous six-hour fifteen course wedding feast in a medieval castle in northern Italy. There was the delectable ten-course meal in the floating Sea Palace in Hong Kong harbor. There have been hundreds of meals in the great dining rooms of cruise ships. It has been my experience to delight in many a grand culinary adventure.

We have those days when the smallest things can become so very important to the maintenance of our sanity and sense of self. We have those days when we need to be strongly reminded that life really is a magnificent gift and that others really do love us completely. Some of us forget far too easily. So it was ordained yesterday that I ended up being given four hours of a dear man’s life to be reminded of these important realities. It was truly luxurious to be granted an un-encumbered uninterrupted block of time with a very busy man who normally is out of state on business. Conversation, prayer, reminiscing, and a bit of lamenting seasoned our time together. We declared our time really good.

I remember looking down at all of the fine porcelain and china plates in Europe and Asia and being thankful for the great privilege to be dining in such places. I have always had a sense of awe in being allowed such splendid opportunities.

It was in my friend’s screened in boathouse that I found myself looking down into the top of an ordinary brown bag with. In there I could see a large turkey sandwich in a zip-loc bag and a bottle of water. At that moment I realized these were holy gifts from a holy God who knew I needed a reminder of His love that day. Bob’s dear wife had made this meal and sent it to me as an offering of God’s love.

I was immediately reminded of the phrase in the liturgy of the Eucharist, which is pronounced when the consecrated elements are lifted up, “This is holy, you are holy”. It was so very easy to remember to offer a prayer of thanksgiving just before beginning to dine. I ate slowly and with great reverence, just as I do when at the altar rail.

Alleluia