Children’s Service

More stories, that’s what’s needed, because everything that motivated this blog was shot to smithereens by the COVID shut-down, and I can’t write about the things I intended to.

I thought I would be commuting and very naturally writing about the shared experience of route 117 and other parts of our world.

I thought I would be working in the office and would write about interactions there.

I thought I would write about the lives of churches, and I would encourage detached, skeptical people, exhausted people, timid people, to go into one of them, maybe one of my beloved Episcopal or ELCA Lutheran churches. Just go in and listen. If the experience doesn’t speak to you, you don’t ever have to go back, I was going to say. But what if you go in thinking this is going to be stupid and I’m going to feel like an idiot, and instead the world tilts on its axis and never goes back to how it was before?

How can I encourage you to do that now, when, if you have any sense, you won’t go to an  indoor church service even if one is offered?

I can tell you about online services, but they are nothing like shared community. Nothing like.

Before I start weeping in frustration, lemme pivot. My salvation: I’ll tell a story! I just have to think of one.

I know!

When my two older brothers and I were kids, Sunday School was held in the church basement, complete with our own service led by us kids, while the adults attended their service upstairs. One week, my brothers were chosen for the signal honor of taking the collection. I’d say we were 13 (Jack), 12 (Petey), and 8 (me).

At dinner that day, our parents asked how Sunday School had gone.

“Fine,” Jack said. “Petey had his ear hooked to his shoulder the whole time, but it went OK.”

And that made me laugh and laugh. I had of course seen, but not really recognized, that Pete had walked up the aisle to the altar, taken his empty collection plate, handed it around the rows of children, and brought it back up to the altar, all with his shoulder stiffly hitched up towards his ear, and his head tilted to that side.

Jack always had a way with words. Always.

That’s it! That’s the story.

October 18, 2020 COVID-19 Infections and Deaths

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