Filled with good things

I woke this morning with a deep yearning to be in church.

I've actually been better this past week about reading the daily lessons and spending focused time in prayer than I normally am. I tend to be one who 'prays without ceasing' . . . living in a constant conversation with God, which is a really good thing (although it can feel funny to stop in the middle of a running conversation to try to have a more formal 'prayer' before a meal or other time)- but it has been nice to not always be running around during those conversations this week. It's been the difference between talking with a friend while running around doing errands as compared with being relaxed with a glass of wine in front of the fireplace, and having the whole evening ahead of you to share conversation.

So it surprised me a little this morning when I knew I simply had to be in church. I had thought that I'd be ok for a month, staying outside the walls of our churches. The way my month's plans had come together even originally meant that I'd be walking every Sunday!

So, instead of walking to Londonderry this morning, I went to church (I'll walk early tomorrow instead.)

It was a big morning there - the bishop's visitation. I balked at that - - I really wished it were a different week. Now don't get me wrong - I love my bishop, and am so grateful that he is my pastor and my friend. He's been very good at both. But the selfish part of me wanted to hear someone else preach. Pretty much these past years I've either had to listen to myself preach every week, or I have heard the bishop preach. There are three priests at this parish, and I had never heard any one of them preach.

And I still haven't.

But it was good. The bishop's sermon was gift to me. Sarah laughed - laughed at the ludicrous idea that God had about her and about what could be. And the disciples probably laughed too, as Jesus sent them out with the ludicrous idea that they could do what he'd been doing. And I've been laughing this week at the idea that God could use this journey for something positive, somewhere. Now that I'm actually out here "doing this" (whatever "this" really is) it has seemed absolutely ludicrous to me at times that "this" could BE something. That something could really be born from this. But the reassurance is there, in the midst of the skeptical laughter - all of this comes, is born, from God. Not from our own resources or abilities or planning. Not because we are able (Sarah certainly wasn't, and the disciples were a pretty unlikely "able" bunch as well!) but because God is able. And there's that extra bit of reassurance for me in Jesus' sending out his disciples as he warned them that they wouldn't find "success" everywhere.

It was a gift of a morning. I've listened to a week of people telling me why they're not in church, and I got to be there as an 18 year old chose to be IN the church. He was baptized this morning, and we cheered and clapped and welcomed. I've listened to people talk about how the church has failed them, and this morning I got to be there as we recommited ourselves in the baptismal covenant - to continue in ministry "with God's help." (Whenever we fail - whenever we fall into sin (not if, but whenever) that we'll repent and return to the Lord . . . with God's help.) I got to be there as person after person after person presented themselves to the bishop, "I wish to be confirmed." And I heard that prayer again and again from the bishop as he laid hands on each one: " . . . strengthen . . . empower . . . . sustain . . . "

I needed to be in church this morning. I needed to be surrounded by 'such a great cloud of witnesses'. To be fed by Word and sacrament. To kneel and to listen and to rejoice. And to be sent out.

And, I needed to be there to thank the woman with the shy smile, who wandered up and down the streets of Nashua yesterday. I was out there all day . . . and so was she. I do believe I was in her home, just as surely as I've been staying in JoAnne's home. Yesterday she wouldn't approach me, wouldn't speak to me. But each time she'd walk by (as far away from me and anyone else as the sidewalk would allow) she'd look at me a little longer. Smile that sweet shy smile. Even eventually giving me a little finger wave. I was a stranger on the streets of Nashua, and she was the one there to welcome me. And there she was in church (wearing the same clothes), shyly keeping her distance from others. I did approach her after the service this morning, and thanked her for welcoming me, a stranger to Nashua. She dropped her eyes and mumbled a "you're welcome" and then looked back up - straight at me, and smiled again. Then walked on toward the after service reception.

She sat on a chair along the side of the room at the reception, eating sandwiches. Still keeping her distance from others. We caught eyes once more before she left, and she smiled again.

She and I both needed to be in church this morning. We both managed to show up. And I think we both went away filled with good things.

Go in peace.