Covered Up

The organ was singing softly with prelude music. I walked up the center aisle and sat three rows from the front on the left side. I looked at the order of worship sheet and closed my eyes to shift my mind from worship in the classroom to worship in the chapel. I heard her feet and felt her presence as she decided that there was enough room for her frame and her bag. I opened my eyes and smiled the, "Sure, you can sit here" smile. She sat next to me on that old wooden pew.  We worshipped side by side as if we had been doing it for a lifetime. She was a tiny woman with a long blonde ponytail and a beautiful black wrap tossed expertly over her shoulders. I was buttoned up in my silk cardigan,  Brooks Brothers tailored oxford shirt and pencil skirt and we could have certainly been a magazine advertisement for all things suburban New Jersey. We looked the part of the seminarians who were second career, full time moms with more hurt and history between us than in the pages of the pentateuch. After service, we went out for coffee and she asked the question as easily as if she had been asking about the weather. 

"So, how bad is it?"

"How bad is what?"

"Whatever it is that you're trying to cover up with your beautiful clothes and perfect smile."

I blinked at her for a moment and tried to decide if I should bother to pretend that I did not know what she was talking about. I opted to go with the truth. 

"It's really bad today. Like make an appointment with the doctor as soon as we leave here bad today."

"Mmmhmm...I could tell."

The expression is "game recognize game" (Ugh...it's grammatically incorrect, but it makes the point perfectly.) She knew that my efforts to look 'normal' were merely a cover up for a deep seated hurt. She knew this because she did the same thing although her pain was a bit different from mine. My unresolved grief had dispersed throughout my body and showed up as clinical depression. Her husband who had promised to love and cherish her did not adorn her with jewels but rather with amethyst and sapphire toned bruises on places which she too, could cover up with wraps, throws, and expensive ensembles that took people's eyes away from the pain and drew them to the trappings. She knew that I was in full "cover up" mode. She honored it and she knew that the safest place to be when you are covering up is with another one who is also running for cover. She and I cloaked and covered ourselves in an attempt to survive the outside world because our insides were in danger of exposure. Internal organs are not designed to operate well outside of the encasing flesh that protects them from the elements while they do what they do...to keep us alive. Likewise, our individual and collective pain was in danger of being exposed to the elements...and to careless people who would quite possibly aggravate our wounds to the point of toxic infection. It's not always the wound that kills you. Sometimes, it's the sepsis that no one anticipated. Sometimes, it's the toxic infection that no one anticipated or countered in time. And so, we cover up. 

We perfect the lining of our eyes with liquid liner. We find the right lipstick that draws attention to our lips but ironically, not to what we are saying. We toss, cut, color or change our hair or put on our finest garb in an attempt to cover up what is clamoring to be seen...and attended with love. We cover it and pray that it will not peek out of the covers lest we have to explain...yet again. We cover the hurt with laughter that we rehearse and force out of our lips. We cover up because we cannot bear the arctic winds that whip across our skin when we are uncovered. We work through it and the beauty of this is that we often find a place where we can safely toss off all of the coverings for just a little while. Our little while was in that coffee shop. We did not have to talk about what was under our respective coverings. We just enjoyed the safety of knowing that we could sit together...just knowing that neither of us was alone or un-known in that moment. We knew that we were both covered by the God who called us and who drew us together. 

My prayers go out to those who are covering themselves today. My prayer is that you will feel God's love covering you as you work your way through this day. My prayer is that when you are ready, the covers will come off like grave clothes and that you will strut boldly in authenticity. My prayer is that we would all remember that it is our privilege to pray for those who are in need of a covering. My prayer is that we would all feel God's love attending us...under the covers...in the places that no one else sees. May your covering be a place of healing and not hiding today. Feel free to go uncovered with trappings and find yourself covered in this prayer for you. "Dear God, please guide me to Your secret place today. I need to abide in Your shadow today. If  Because Your feathers cover me, I shall be safe from all harm today. Thank You for covering me in front and behind. Forgive my meager attempts to cover even as I learn to rest in You. Thank you for being my refuge and my fortress. Amen."

Shalom