Blue is building something. It might be the Eiffel Tower. It often is.
We are in the living room together, Beangirl and the Spouse have gone off to school, and we have the day before us. Of course, it’s Halloween – so costume ideas are a bit occupying. At breakfast, Blue was feeling inspired.
I’m going to be a witch. No, I’m going to be Mary. No, I’m going to be a pumpkin. No, I’m going to be a jack-o’-lantern!
Not sure what I did that my son wants to dress up as the mother of our Lord.
But it would be an awfully sweet costume.
We are trying to have a quiet morning and keep excitement at bay. Yesterday was a full day, as Sundays can be. Full and happy. We have two services at our church – an early family service when I get to play with the kids, and a more traditional service at 11:15am with organ. For the early service, I brought in a jack-o’-lantern. And there was much delight. Astonishingly, there were no requests for candy. None. Not even from my own kids. But everyone wanted to blow out the candle. So we lit two. We talked about God’s love being like a light, and about how God works from inside our hearts so that we glow with love. How’s that for subversive Halloweening?
During the second service, I read the lessons. Our church has some unique furniture, including a high raised lectern about halfway down the church. It is a wonderful place to stand while reading – you are among the congregation, but elevated so that you can look at people while you read. Yesterday, morning was bright, and the sanctuary was full of sunlight. And the scripture was the sermon on the mount – all those blessings offering comfort to us all. My own kids come into church for the first half of the second service. When Blue saw me climb up the steps to read from the Bible, he gave me a great big, two-armed wave. Blessed are the pure in heart.
After the lessons, the Spouse took the kids out to the hall where they found a table for their colouring. I’d like to get to the stage where they can sit through the service in the sanctuary, but these are still early days in a new church.
A new church for us, but ancient walls. The weight of history in the Canongate Kirk struck me again yesterday. In his sermon, Neil spoke about following in the footsteps of the first hearers of the Beatitudes, about finding comfort in these ancient blessings. As we celebrated communion later in the service, I found myself thinking about all those who had likewise come into this church to seek God in these acts. The ordinary bread and wine made extraordinary by God’s gracious hospitality, now and through all the years. The cup we used is very old – the rim is inscribed 1644. I found myself thinking about all those who have drunk from that cup, and found God’s blessings there. I’m not used to that kind of direct continuity – it isn’t a very Canadian experience, is it? I feel lucky, right now, to be able to take a physical place in that history. It does make it easier to read scripture, remembering the plurality of its readership. Blessed are you.
As I write this, Blue has knocked over his towers, of course, and tried his best to juggle the blocks. Enormously noi
sy. Now, he’s moved on to silent tea parties. It’s marvellous to watch as he switches from chaos to rapt concentration and back again. I love that I get to witness the craziness of his imagination at play. It does mean so many interruptions and the hundreds of jarring reshuffled plans that come with kids. But I’m getting used to that. I get frustrated, for sure, but the frustration also fizzles away to nothing as I see how gorgeous he is and how fleeting his littleness.
And, because as I watched him, I got that sense again of being part of something larger and more plural. Just like communion yesterday. These moments that are so personal and also so communal and history-spanning. We are lucky to be able to witness them. In the ordinary, God is with us. With all of us.
