133. feasts

I was late to church today because, frankly, it was one of those mornings I was ambivalent about going. Today's five gratefuls:

1. Some friends sit three or four rows from the back, and there was space beside them, so I could slink in and sit beside someone who was glad to see me and not judgmental about my tardiness.

2. It's perpetually odd to me that so few people make eye contact during communion, which is in concept, if not in practice, a shared meal. But the neighbor who passed me the trays today looked me in the eye and smiled every time. Thank you, you.

3. Sitting in the back put me in view of the sign language interpreter and the two or three people she signs for, and let me tell you, there is so much beauty in what happens in that microchurch. First of all, the hands. Some of the signs so visually depict the words they represent; it enhances the meaning for me to see it as well as say it. Secondly, because they face each other, they are doing what we are encouraged to do but feel sheepish and self-conscious about on those rare occasions when the song leader asks us to: "addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs." It kind of makes me want to dredge up the tiny bit I remember from that ASL class 24 years ago so I can go sit with them once in a while and sing with both hands and voice and look at someone who can unabashedly look back.

4. We're working through the book of Luke, and today's lesson was from that story Jesus tells in chapter 14 about the banquet where, when it's time, the folks who've already been invited all have excuses for why they can't come. Heck with them, the host says; go fetch the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind (and, I reckon, the deaf). Go to the highways and hedges. Let's fill this house.
I hope that if I were in that situation, and the summons came, I would drop what I was doing and go to the feast. Wouldn't care about checking my land or test-driving my new oxen. Wouldn't worry about what I was wearing. Would, if I was with someone, ask if they could come too.

5. Sometimes the thing that gets me there, frankly, is knowing that my own microchurch, my lunch bunch, will share a table afterwards. And look at each other. And share things with each other. And be family for each other. I know some people sit in a congregation week after week, even year after year, and never find a connection like that. I hope that if I noticed someone like that in our midst, I'd try to be a friend.

I'm glad I attended. Always am. Next week's goal: Be on time. Don't miss a note.

What about you?