Connective Tissue Disorder

Connective tissue disorder. One of the descriptors for a syndrome I have. Sufficiently vague for me to ignore unless my joints flare up and cause pain. Then I think I understand what it is.

Families can suffer from connective tissue disorder, maybe more so now as so many connect with others through some sort of device, rather than over a cup of coffee on a couch or at a table. It isn’t necessarily anger or an incident that creates dissonance in a family. It may be down to a simple lack of communication, a failure to hang out and high-five each other, watch the birds at the feeder together, or cook a meal together. Failure to connect. 

There is a wonderful woman in church whose quiet, behind-the-scenes work prevents connective tissue disorder from developing there. Faithful to serve at Friday coffees, always the first there getting things underway. Faithful to choir practice before a service. Faithful to take care of the communion dishes and what goes in them. She gets on with her work quietly, without fanfare. She lives her life quietly, without fanfare. She puts no detergents down the drain but rather washes everything in a basin, which is emptied in the yard. When her time is up, she will have left the smallest of detrimental footprints on God’s beautiful creation. I think she will be at the top table in God’s Kingdom. She was never the big joint getting things done, moving places, changing things, but quietly and unobtrusively has kept the body working together. 

Our nation – the world – suffers from connective tissue disorder. What we need is someone to keep us connected, keep us communicating. A peacemaker. The Prince of Peace – for the time being, he is reaching out to others through you and me. Shalom.