They Pour into the Streets Wearing Black

When I started my devotions, I thought, “I wish it were after Pentecost Sunday. We would be reading Acts, not Isaiah.” Then I picked up a newsletter Mom dropped off yesterday and read this:

“Bible scholars have said that even if we didn’t have Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, we would still have the Gospel in Isaiah, written five centuries before Christ: ‘He is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. …He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon him, and by His stripes we are healed. …The Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all. …For He was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgressions of My people He was stricken.’ (Isaiah 53:3-8).” Gordon Robertson, “Frontlines” – April 2018

* * * * * * * *

Tonight is Bill’s visitation. I expect a line of people around 2 blocks waiting to get in. Isaiah 15 showed me God understands grief. He knows what we are feeling.

Isaiah 15:3-5, 8, “They pour into the streets wearing black. …everyone in tears, everyone in grief. (4) …sobs, shaking in grief. …trembles…” (5) …they weep…they cry their loss. (8) …Gut-wrenching sobs…heart-rending sobs…” The Message

After reading my chapters, I decided to bake the cookies for the funeral dinner. I measured the sugar and noticed it was lumpy. I sifted it to break up the lumps and saw bugs in the sugar!

I checked the canister – no bugs. They had to have come from the double sifter. I put the sifter in a pan with water and boiled it for 15 minutes.

I tossed that sugar and started over. You don’t have to sift flour for chocolate chip cookies. I decided to make them. But the chocolate chips were frozen! I put them in a bowl of warm water to thaw.

I washed dishes while I waited for all the ingredients to come to room temperature. Starting over with fresh sugar, I mixed up the cookies. Some of the chocolate chips had melted! They will be chocolate chip, streaked cookies.

I got out my new, cookie dough scoop to drop the cookies on the cookie sheet. 3 scoops later, the dough wouldn’t release.

I washed the cookie scoop, dried it and slathered it with butter. 3 scoops later, the dough wouldn’t release.

I washed it again, dried it and poured a tablespoon of oil in it. I rolled the oil around to coat all the surfaces of the scoop and dumped the extra.

6 scoops later, the dough wouldn’t release! I just kept scooping and flicked my wrist to release the dough. (Can you get carpal tunnel from making cookies?)

I put the first sheet in the preheated oven and said, “I hope you’re watching, Bill, because this is freaking hilarious! I love you, man.” (See Hebrews 12:1.)

The first batch was darker than I wanted. I set the timer back 3 minutes. When I checked the second sheet, it was doughy. I added 2 minutes to the timer. The third sheet was fine.

I was putting in the fourth sheet when I heard someone at the door. I hit “stop” instead of “start” on the timer accidentally. The numbers were moving so I answered the door.

When I got back, there were 3 minutes on the timer. I started washing the baking dishes. The next time I checked, there were 6 minutes, 37 seconds on the timer. It took me about 30 seconds to realize my timer must have a “stopwatch” feature because it was gaining time!

I rescued the cookies. As I put in the last batch, I thought, “Bill, I am finished baking the cookies. The show’s over.”

I swear I heard him laughing.

Then I started laughing – the deep, belly laugh that works like medicine. Yes, there will be tears at Bill’s visitation tonight, but there will be more laughter. Deep, belly, laugh-until-you-cry laughter. Healing laughter. (See Proverbs 17:22.)

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