Anyway, I woke up early and cold. As I was in the shower I thought, "I've got to wear something comfortable today because it's going to be a long day--comfortable and warm." In my head I even recognized the childish voice that went along with a stamped foot, "I'm not going to wear my collar today. So there!" I figured I would change my mind as I was getting dressed; I always wear my collar on works days--particularly days when I have a service--like this morning's 7 am Eucharist. But the petulant child in me dug my heels in as if to say to the world, "I will defeat this day! No one can boss
me around!”(and yes I really do have these conversations in my head)
So I got dressed without my collar--I didn't even wear black. (And people say I'm a compulsive rule follower...look at me now--quite the rebel! Please don't tell my Bishop.)
I arrived and began to, along with my faithful regulars, set up. I was in the sacristy when one of the parishioners whispered, "There's a couple here who none of us recognize." "Oh great," I moaned to myself, well maybe also aloud, "the day I don't wear my collar."
I came out of the sacristy as the couple was moving into the chapel. "Do you recognize me?" the lady asked. "Yes," I responded knowing I did recognize her but also desperately trying to place her. She continued, "Sandy told us last night about the service this morning." "Sandy?" I stammered, "Sandy who?" "Sandy Apple." she calmly said, although I think at this point she wanted to be anywhere but here.
I was HORRIFIED! I have known this woman for 25 years! On the way to work this morning I had started composing a letter to her. It all came rushing back to me--last night I had texted Sandy (whom I have known for 26 years WELL Her children are our GODCHILDREN!!!), anyway I texted her I was going to say the mass with intention for her sister Lisa who died six months ago today. I adored Lisa, and although I clearly don't recognize them, I adore this family. I didn't have time at that point to profusely apologize...I am still deeply distressed I did that, but I also believe in grace (keep reminding me of that).
We gathered in the chapel in a circle as we always do. I introduced everyone and explained how they had heard about the service and who they were. Following the readings, instead of a sermon, we always discuss whatever comes to our minds. I would try to recreate the conversation but I can't. What I can say is it was beautiful, and it was holy. The readings, particularly the Gospel reading, had themes of Lisa's life--vulnerability, openness, acceptance, unconditional, sacrificial love.
As we began the Prayers of the People we were joined by another person. I didn't recognize him either (but I was taking no chances). I walked down to greet him. "Hello my name is Kevin," he said, "On the web I saw you had a 7 am Eucharist." "Join us," I said as I led him to the chapel. Janet, a regular who I did recognize, led the prayers of the people and when we got to the prayers for the departed she remembered not only to name Lisa but she said her full name---Carmen Lisa--it had been said briefly during introductions and yet she remembered. I was deeply touched.
Following the prayers we gathered around the altar for the Eucharist. I said, "I offer this Eucharist for the life of Carmen Lisa Soler who now resides with the communion of saints who have gone before." And then I began to cry. I subtly wept throughout the Eucharist. (Well, I think it was subtle)
After the service we learned Kevin's story. Bill, a recognized (I really can't get past this) regular, and I talked to Kevin for a long while and then did what we could to help him. He needed someone to listen to him, to believe him, and to comfort him. Bill took him where he needed to go.
I did wear a stole |
And sometimes on mornings when we're grumpy and rebellious and embarrassed and "off our game", we have to go back to the beginning. Sometimes we need to participate in the physicality of salvation in the here and now, among strangers who are brought together for different reasons and with different needs. Sometimes that is the most powerful salvation there is.
Today was one of those days.
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