Susan LaffertyMy parents are cleaning out cabinets. And bookshelves.
They’ve done this before. Purging. For moves across states and across the world.
But this is different. A time for downsizing. Studying space. Deciding what will fit in the next spot.
They’ll move to a smaller place. One of these days. So now they are paring down. Letting go.
They push things into my hands when I express interest in a painting. A book. “Take it.”
We walk. Blue-skied afternoon. Fallen leaves swirling on the path. Picked up and scattered by the wind.
An after-Thanksgiving-dinner tradition, this walk takes us through shade and cold. To places in the sun. Beside the lake. Where water moves, reflecting rays.
Conversations and laughter accompany this walk. As we breathe cool air in the shifting light.
The evidence of God’s creation and Presence is all around us on that restful stroll through the neighborhood. And I think about the ways God speaks. Breathes. And moves.
The question lingers through the centuries. Around the world. In religious gatherings. And institutions of learning. City streets. Local hangouts.
And I read it in the Scriptures. The unnamed someone asks Jesus. “Lord, are only a few people going to be saved?” (Luke 13:23)
Only a few? We hear the concern in our day. Are you saying not everyone goes to heaven? Isn’t that narrow-minded? How can a God of love do that?
