Desks and seemingly must-do tasks can run my life.
Maybe you know something about that.
When I look up from the emails and phone calls and clamorous things that need tending, I find that time and energy have zipped by yet again.
So it feels especially crucial to me to get out and spend time with people. Flesh and blood heart beating people are what center me and my work.
I spent near two hours (where did the time go???) with a woman who has long called RUMC home. She is one of those members who have given so much to their church and who struggle to get moving early enough to catch the church bus to attend worship and who has seen so much change and who feels increasingly invisible in her church.
Many of her friends have died. The people she knew and so very importantly, the people who knew her by name are no longer in the pew beside her. She sang in the choir. Her husband was an accomplished soloist. The pictures in her home feature eyes eagerly engaging the world and energy to embrace adventure.
She gracefully shared her sense of grief about her sense of growing invisibility. That is no small trick. The hurts of being unseen can fester and erupt in bitterness. Not so for her. She cares enough about her church and her pastor to name her heart. It is honor to be in the company of such a one.
Through her I am blessed.
Often we talk in churches about how vital it is to greet visitors. I was reminded on Friday how vital it is that we greet each person we encounter in church. In the body of each beats a heart longing for recognition and acknowledgement.
I talk often of the wonder of parents of young children who go through the considerable challenge of readying all of their charges and themselves for worship.
What my sister in Christ reminded me of is the importance of experiencing wonder and appreciation for each person who goes through the considerable challenge of readying themselves for worship, particularly when bodies are reluctant to move because years have been encountered.
Tomorrow is Rally Sunday. My prayer is that all feel welcomed and all feel wondrous about our shared call to transformation in Christ.
You reminded me…
I called a woman today who has lost her voice as she treads her way through radiation. In the most almost silent whisper we made plans for a visit.
She’s one of those folks over whom others grieve so clearly as they miss her presence. Rarely has there been a person whose name brings tears more directly as people realize she won’t be coming to worship anymore.
She’s a little sprite who has spiritual sinews in her as tough and ropey as long rooted vines. Yet I’ve seen and heard it again and again, the appropriate, tender touch and words of acceptance and grace. We do get blessed E’!