Communion Sunday
Dear Tom,
It was communion Sunday at the church where we have been going since we moved here.
After regularly attending for the past 2.5 years, I still call it that. I don't say "Our church," or "Shady Grove," but refer to it as "that church." I guess that says something about our lack of roots here. Or maybe it speaks louder about MY lack of roots here.
You have your own church now, and I beam with pride anytime I mention it to someone, or I see your Facebook status about a new Sunday sermon. Not that I had anything to do with your ability to start your own church from scratch, but I have a great pride in knowing you, and how much love you give to your family, to your friends, and to people you meet. You have "that face," "those eyes," they just send out love and acceptance and caring, like beams of light. Now, of course they don't know Tom the bowler, or Tom the rifleman like I do, but they don't have too. Even when you get close to losing at a bowling game, you are the kind of person everyone wants to be around. The kind of person people not only want to to talk to, but can talk to. The kind of person people want to name their sons after :)
I think it might be a prerequisite for preachers. I have decided this, because the minister at our Strasburg Church exuded God's love in such a way we couldn't help but join that church and make it our family--and we had attended years before that happened. And now, the minister here at this church made me do something I haven't in a very long time either, because he has that same face. The one of peace and assurance, eyes of love and comfort. The same as you, another Man of God.
So, it was Communion Sunday, and I was solo. Garren wasn't feeling well and he stayed at home. Gracie was upstairs in Sunday School, and Thomas has been (thankfully) going in to the preschool class after he sits with us until Children's Time during the service.
At this church they do communion by "intinction." I am sure you know this term of dipping the bread in the one cup, but to me it is a fancy word for germs and gross chunks of bread floating in a cup I have to use too. But, I digress.
I held my hands cupped together and for the first time I was on the side of head minister as I went up to get my bread. And, I looked at him. In the eyes, and I didn't look down or turn away. I listened to every word he said to me and felt his light and his peace. I felt the same that I feel when I am around you and Colette and Mallory. That sweet, sweet comfort that the three of you can't help but exude.
Most people who know me, know that I rarely look up. I have this very bad habit of looking down or to the side when people talk to me. I became so aware of it, that I learned to force myself look at people for a few seconds at a time before moving my gaze. I have no idea when it started, but I feel incredibly uncomfortable talking to people, and especially looking at them when they talk to me. No doubt it stems from my ridiculously low self-esteem, but that is a matter for another time. The point is I couldn't help but look up, and keep my eyes ahead instead of down where they often fall. Few others have me feel that way, and I thank you for being one of them. Thank you for loving me, for loving us, then and now. Thank you for exuding the love of Christ to us and to many. God uses you my friend, and I am thankful he shone your light in my direction, and allowed me to find light in other places in your absence.
With great love,
Barbara
It was communion Sunday at the church where we have been going since we moved here.
After regularly attending for the past 2.5 years, I still call it that. I don't say "Our church," or "Shady Grove," but refer to it as "that church." I guess that says something about our lack of roots here. Or maybe it speaks louder about MY lack of roots here.
You have your own church now, and I beam with pride anytime I mention it to someone, or I see your Facebook status about a new Sunday sermon. Not that I had anything to do with your ability to start your own church from scratch, but I have a great pride in knowing you, and how much love you give to your family, to your friends, and to people you meet. You have "that face," "those eyes," they just send out love and acceptance and caring, like beams of light. Now, of course they don't know Tom the bowler, or Tom the rifleman like I do, but they don't have too. Even when you get close to losing at a bowling game, you are the kind of person everyone wants to be around. The kind of person people not only want to to talk to, but can talk to. The kind of person people want to name their sons after :)
I think it might be a prerequisite for preachers. I have decided this, because the minister at our Strasburg Church exuded God's love in such a way we couldn't help but join that church and make it our family--and we had attended years before that happened. And now, the minister here at this church made me do something I haven't in a very long time either, because he has that same face. The one of peace and assurance, eyes of love and comfort. The same as you, another Man of God.
So, it was Communion Sunday, and I was solo. Garren wasn't feeling well and he stayed at home. Gracie was upstairs in Sunday School, and Thomas has been (thankfully) going in to the preschool class after he sits with us until Children's Time during the service.
At this church they do communion by "intinction." I am sure you know this term of dipping the bread in the one cup, but to me it is a fancy word for germs and gross chunks of bread floating in a cup I have to use too. But, I digress.
I held my hands cupped together and for the first time I was on the side of head minister as I went up to get my bread. And, I looked at him. In the eyes, and I didn't look down or turn away. I listened to every word he said to me and felt his light and his peace. I felt the same that I feel when I am around you and Colette and Mallory. That sweet, sweet comfort that the three of you can't help but exude.
Most people who know me, know that I rarely look up. I have this very bad habit of looking down or to the side when people talk to me. I became so aware of it, that I learned to force myself look at people for a few seconds at a time before moving my gaze. I have no idea when it started, but I feel incredibly uncomfortable talking to people, and especially looking at them when they talk to me. No doubt it stems from my ridiculously low self-esteem, but that is a matter for another time. The point is I couldn't help but look up, and keep my eyes ahead instead of down where they often fall. Few others have me feel that way, and I thank you for being one of them. Thank you for loving me, for loving us, then and now. Thank you for exuding the love of Christ to us and to many. God uses you my friend, and I am thankful he shone your light in my direction, and allowed me to find light in other places in your absence.
With great love,
Barbara
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