Saturday, May 2, 2026
Memorial of Saint Athanasius, Bishop and Doctor of the Church
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Settling into sunshine
In my Father’s house there are many mansions.
If there were not,
would I have told you
that I am going to prepare a place for you?
Gradually, although sometimes we’re surprised by a sudden change of gear, we are cycling into heaven, where the big mansions await, where the place prepared does not need new paint or remodeling or even a comfortable bed to sleep on while God’s angels are feeding us grapes.
That would be in the future, probably not so long from now, and so we continue to make do here in the present. But this week, due to a miracle wrought by our Father in Margaret’s and my hearts, we are vastly more excited and hopeful about our warm nest, our cozy place to linger, be still, and have conversation with God about whatever He brings up.
I remember Aelred of Rievaulx’s 14th century plaque on his own wall of welcome in the monastery.
Here we are, you and I,
 and I hope a third, Christ, is in our midst.
 There is no one now to disturb us;
 there is no one to break in upon our friendly chat,
no man’s prattle or noise of any kind
will creep into this pleasant solitude.
After spending a week moving nearly everything out of our bedrooms, which also meant uncovering five years of dust and dead bugs, our new beds arrived on Mayday. Two of Shane and Shannon’s white glove assistants disassembled and removed the queen beds and frames we had cobbld together through “buynothing” friends and dumpster discoveries. Then they brought in the new stuff. Natural fabric firm twin-XL mattresses on top of adjustable beds that massage us, lift and lower us, and light our way to the bathroom at night.
One of the guys worked with Margaret, the other with me. Our conversation became friendly, personal, quickly. They showed us the buttons to push, including a button for “Zero Gravity,” and another that raises and lowers the lumbar part of our backs.
So this was not just another day for us. Both of us have been imagining our perfect bedrooms, which became a catalyst for relaxing into a “perfect” future. That’s the miracle part, the way God moved our thinking from frustration about dirt and clutter and flies to joy and hope with “skin on.” Not in heaven, but on earth. Nary a religious word in sight, just deep gratitude and rest in God.
We have a chance after five years to do the Marie Kondo thing: throw everything into the center of the room, pray, and then put back the stuff that brings us joy. As for me, I am accumulating beside the door to the parking lot quite a pile of stuff I haven’t used for months or years, and I really am filled with joy to watch the clutter quickly become clean and calm. I hope today to get a southwestern style quilt that reminds me of the beds in Santa Fe and Taos I slept in a few years ago. Friday afternoon, even with old sheets and pillows and no quilt at all, I fell into a vibrating fountain of warmth.. In Austin it rained for two days, it was cold and wet, and in our bedrooms we were settling into sunshine.
Like Shannon did a couple days ago, our maintenance guru Scott postponed his a/c installations down the street and moved a bunch of our heavy stuff that we couldn’t lift ourselves. He pulled stuff out from under my bed I couldn’t reach, that I hadn’t touched for a couple of years. He pulled out a Martin guitar. It was still in tune. Sitting on his heels, he looked at me puzzled. What is this doing under the bed, Dave?
And then, warming up slowly, nearly cutting his fingers on the steel strings, he began to play. And we fell into a trance. So beautiful. Then I knew how King Saul surely felt when David without warning began to play his harp. My chaotic thinking, unnecessary fears, just disappeared. “Don’t worry about a thing,” Scott said. “Just text me.” And I know he means it.
There’s more, like the Premier Mattress delivery truck that disappeared on the way from San Antonio with one of our mattresses on it … and we are still praying for the driver. And then Shane’s decision to bring us floor models and swap them out later, rather than postponing everything till next week. Before we had time to worry about how we’d find room to watch the Kentucky Derby when a heavy folding bookcase filled up our couch, we were rescued.
And the brightest side of this miracle prism is the mostly quiet joy Margaret and I are sharing about something here and now that turns our eyes toward heaven. I guess I’m glad that it’s hard to describe. Words aren’t the point. Words often distract me and I think everyone sometime from the experience itself. “Settling into sunshine:” poetic words that warm me inside and out. Words do point the way to heaven. But this week we were there, moment by unplanned moment.
All the ends of the earth
Have seen the salvation of our God.
Sing joyfully, sing joyfully all you lands.
 (Acts 13, Psalm 98, John 8, John 14)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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