Cigarette Smoke and Terrible Situations

Most mornings, I walk out my front door and am greeted with fresh, crisp Sonoma air.  Full of the smells of moisture, pollens, plants, and animals that reside in the creek about 30 feet away and all about the county.  It's a nice way to greet the morning.

Some mornings, I walk out and immediately greeted with wafts of smoke from my neighbor Leanore's cigarettes.  I smells like my grandmother did, so I don't mind.  And in some ways, Leanore reminds me of my grandmother.  She's spunky, she speaks her mind.  Now, that smell of smoke means I get a nice conversation with Leanore as I walk towards my getaway.  We've talked relationships, we've talked work, we've talked politics.  Just about everywhere you can go in a nice neighborly conversation.

Easter morning was rushed.  I was late to celebrate with my church just how cool Jesus is.  In my mixed-confused culture, I only care about being late insomuch as others care, so I try to be on time - even though to be frank, it doesn't matter to me too much.  So I walked in a hurry out the door to quite the unusual situation.

It smells like smoke.  There are tears in Leanore's eyes.  It's not a triumphal day for her.

Her son-in-law died, suddenly, a few days before.  She's concerned for her grandchildren, for her daughter, for his family.  A couple of neighbors also come by to talk, but clearly don't want to be there.  After some conversation, after the subject changed a few times from the death and the family, I excused myself to go to church.  I think I made the wrong choice, but I did leave.

There aren't words.

What do you say when someone is experiencing such a close death on the anniversary of the rising that in one fell swoop, saved humanity - if only they accept that?  I don't think he knew Jesus.  I'm certain Leanore doesn't.

There just aren't words.

This week has brought a new experience walking out the door: cherry cigars.  Leanore's son-in-law was also best friends with a guy a couple doors down.  This week he's spent a lot of time outside, smoking cherry cigars.  Days in a row, I've found him in front of his house, in front of Leanore's house, in front of another neighbors.  Always with the distinct scent of that smoke.

I'm so in awe of everything Jesus did and is doing and all of the promises of what will come.  I love my God deeply.  But being in a neighborhood mourning two losses in the last 6 months, the awe turns into a funny little cocktail of thankfulness and pother.

There's no end here.  Because they're still living it all.

It's not Friday. And this isn't Santa Barbara.

No, despite that terrible Friday song going through my mind, it's not Friday.  I have work tomorrow.  And then a long Sunday.  And then work again.  So I'm about a week away from a weekend.

All week, every day this shortened week I had, I was daydreaming of Santa Barbara and the highly fabulous weekend that I was blessed with.  Friends, worship, more friends, chili cookoff, farm, friends, a mansion pool party, my favorite church on the planet, pancake brunch and hangout like the old times, friendsfriendsfriends, boba, my 3rd favorite coffee shop, beach.  And awesome friends.

And this isn't Santa Barbara.  It's far from it.

I don't dislike it here, but nothing quite compares with that fabulous home I knew for four years :)

Ah, what a great weekend it was.  All that fun is thankfully enough to propel me through this non-weekend I have coming my way.