Whine . . . whine . . . wine

Jesus drank wine. I like that about Jesus. He turned water into wine so that his family and friends could celebrate and relate. He is Living Water -- He is Holy Wine. Thank God, literally. But Jesus wasn't a whiner. Well, maybe that one moment that night in the garden when he asked God to take that bitter cup away -- but then, of course, he lamented and relented and prayed, "Your will, not my own." Ah...

I have had the tendency to whine. Not just to anyone! My sisters hear my whining. Some close friends. Few others, really ... my trusty pooch is a faithful whine-listener. (Come to think if it, she's a good whiner, too.) I whine through music. I mean, come on ... Sigh No More played REALLY loudly (such that my wine glasses rattle) is soul food, but it is a form of whining! My (widow) sister and I applaud Mumford's lyric, "So tie me to a post and block my ears I can see widows and orphans through my tears ..."(The Cave).

It's a great song -- good foot stomper, too -- but when I sing it, it is whining. It goes on to expound, "But I will hold on hope And I won't let you choke On the noose around your neck And I'll find strength in pain And I will change my ways I'll know my name as it's called again." So it sort of becomes a survival anthem. My husband wrote a bunch of those . . . it's easier not to listen to his right now.

And then it's a good time for a glass of wine :-)

I have found a good $3 wine. Do you know it? I'm laughing because it really is funny. I live in wine country. The Piedmont/central Virginia is a wonderful appellation for certain grapes (I hope I'm getting this correct, Neil). But I don't have the bucks for the good wines. I found a good $3 wine. $3 wines. Merlot, Cab Sauv, Pinot G and Chardonnay. Not too shabby. I have also discovered that yoga goes better with wine. It also tends to suppress the whine a little bit. Beer can double for wine, but that's a different blog. That and tipsy yoga ...

But I can't ask "Why me?" because anytime I do, I hear his resounding words: "That's not the right question. The question is: What Now?" Oy. Sometimes life doesn't WANT that kind of profundity getting in the way of the whining. My husband, David, was -- for lack of a better, more humble word -- profound. He was sometimes called a prophet with a guitar (he liked that one because of Gibran). Really, he was a man who possessed true charisma. You know there is a beautifully pure concept of a Christian Charismatic. charisma (pronounced /kəˈrɪzmə/; pl. charismata, adj. charismatic) has two senses: 1) compelling attractiveness or charm that can inspire devotion in others, 2) a divinely conferred power or talent.

Yep, that was David. Can you imagine living with that?! But I digress.

What now? That was the important question. For David, it was to immediately and completely regroup, focus on the mission and make it happen. A diagnosis of grade IV brain cancer caused him to whine for a day. Well, maybe a few days. But after that, there was little to no whining. Purpose. Intentionality. Vocation. Mission. What now?

For me, the "what now?" meant sacrifice. Sacrifice is the offering of food, objects or the lives of animals to a higher purpose or to God (let's think more metaphorically, shall we?). Recently it has also come into use as meaning 'doing without something' or 'giving something up.' Here's another one: the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim. I like that one. Don't get me wrong. At that point in my life, I was a young mother and all I wanted/needed to do at that time was to be that. Do that. However, to follow David's new vocation meant sacrifice of the quintissential family life -- married life. The whole family sacrificed for this higher purpose. (The medical journey is too big for this conversation, but it will make appearances here and there.)

When David had healed enough from multiple surgeries and intitial treatments, he found that people wanted to hear his new songs. As a yuppy, he had travelled a lot; as a performing songwriter, he travelled at least 30% of the time and mostly on weekends. Kiss the sharing of soccer schedules, boy scouts, Sunday School and road trips good-bye. Say hello to cutting out of one soccer game early to make the second one at half-time; say hello to zero understanding of the pinewood derby -- and subsequent disinterest in scouting in a boy with two Eagle Scout grandfathers; say hello to plopping your kindergartener on the piano bench next to a very caring accompanist to run up to the choir loft to sing the anthem, then trot back down to sit with my little girl in church; say hello to being the single-mom at most weekend events. (I wasn't the only one, of course, but I wasn't single!) Say hello to taking on the responsibility of paying all the bills and doing the taxes by myself -- and fixing the toilets, mowing the lawn -- alone. Lots of people do it. I know that. But I got married to NOT be alone in life. I got married to do these things BESIDE someone. To live in tandem with someone on a daily basis. The loss of that cleaved-ness was a sacrifice that never got easier. My daughter came to a point where she never asked about him or spoke of him when he was on longer trips. To this day my son claims that he does not miss people. I get that. His dad was gone so much that he had to figure out a way to NOT HURT when they were separated. They coped. I hope that slowly he may be able to miss David a little now and then without it hurting too much. And I pray that some day soon my daughter allows herself to talk about him. They are still coping. We all are.

All the while, I believed and still believe that it was for God's higher purpose. Remember, resilient utility! And now, of course, I truly am single and am still doing all of these life things that I never wanted to do alone! (Well, sometimes I just don't do them. You should see the lawn! but that's another blog ...)

So have a little whine ... and have a little wine. These things go best with a loving listener or co-whiner (ideally not your dog, but, hey ...) After all, it's good for what ails you. Even Paul said so (1 Timothy 5:23). And don't forget about the renewal of that >sacrificial Holy Wine, either.


[Please know that I do not take lightly the realities of alcoholism or how easily self-medicating can become dangerous. This is meant to be light-hearted. I pray that I have not offended anyone.]