Joan's Corner

She saw. She understood. She comforted. The ripping, tearing, raw work of loss Provided a commonality. No words. They hugged. Oh grief, you are a mystery! You provide this sacred moment.                 I ponder and savor. The barrier of class, race, economics,  And nationality is momentarily removed. This commonality of mankind: the brevity of life. “Give sorrow words, the grief that does not speak.”           Shakespeare “Jesus wept.”  John 11:35

I recently talked with my son about pomegranates. It was a more than “I remember when” story: seeding the pomegranates from the whitish-yellow membrane. If the thin membrane remains, there is a bitter taste due to the tannic acid in the membrane. Family members in the past helped in this process. The pomegranate jelly is translucent, beautiful, as well as tasteful. That prompted my son to buy twenty large pomegranates.   It made two batches of jelly: Thanksgiving and Christmas gifts done for family and friends who mean a lot to me. It is a labor of love from beginning of the process to the end. “I’m done,” but then I thought that it would be nice to take some of those juicy seeds to Bible study with small paper cup, plastic spoon and napkins. There is a convenient store a major block away. I don’t drive. I prayed about this desire. The chances of pomegranates being in such a store are slim, but somehow I thought it quite possible. After all, one year...