With Lo in the flow

Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?’ And they took offence at [Jesus]. (Mark 6:3)

I have no idea who Lo is, his background or how he came to work at a suburban Cosco. But he made my day.

He saw me, and for a moment I truly felt seen, welcome and received as we shared a moment. And laughter.

The laughter was directed at my head of white hair, revealing my age and releasing me from the idiocy of having to fumble through my wallet to produce my driver’s license or AARP card in order to purchase the bottle of wine amid the milk and butter, coffee and assorted items on this day’s grocery run.

I saw his name tag as we left the checkout, while trying, without success, to identify the origin of his accent. But it didn’t matter because something utterly ordinary and wonderfully transcendent passed between us in an instant.

What to call it? Flow, maybe?

The flow of kindness, mutual humanity, basic respect, gentle humor, yes, all this, but more, because it made us—or at least me—happier, more alive and hopeful, open and kind, whatever the day might bring.

There was one more thing: It also made me feel less alone.

Our aloneness in this increasingly anxious and impersonal age is killing us, literally, or so a growing number of medical studies tell us. Their bottom line: Loneliness has the same health effect as smoking a pack of cigarettes a day.

But loneliness kills us spiritually well before we are ready for the undertaker. It makes us feel cut off from the flow of human kindness that would pull us into its stream, bathing our hearts in the awareness that we are seen and recognized, known and valued, respected and worthy of care.

There are sacraments of this kindness and care. Today, one of them was named Lo, and for a moment, an instant, I knew myself with Lo in the flow of goodness and gentle grace.

As a Christian, I have a name for this flow.

‘I am the bread of life,’ Jesus says, in the Gospel of John. ‘I am the Good Shepherd.’ ‘I am living water.’ The list goes on, and today I will add a couple more predicates to Jesus’ sentence.

I am the flow of life and love that illumines your heart. I am the joy that fills you when you feel seen and treasured. I am the kindness that lifts your heart and restores your joy. I am the elation that comes when Love’s living flow washes through your heart.

And I am also the sadness, the longing ache of feeling cut off, rejected and invisible. For, the Love that I am longs to flow through all that is, every moment, every conversation, every day.

The divine life and love that filled Jesus frustrated him thoroughly when the gift he offered was refused and denied, when he was dismissed as the boy from down the street, nothing special.

But the flow goes on—within, beneath, around and through all that is—finding its way despite the rocks and walls, hard heads and calcified hearts that would hold it back.

And sometimes, Lo and behold, we find ourselves right in the middle of it.

David L. Miller