Linking up with Tania Vaughan's new blog series, to proactively take Sunday into the rest of the week. Sundays are suddenly different. Not better not worse - just different. After 33 years, my husband is no longer a full time priest; nor am I on a church staff any more. I am just - JUST! - a normal pew filler. Well, chair occupier. And it's different from the back row than the front one.
Especially where we are now going to 'church.' I say church advisedly - we meet in Komedia, "Bath's award-winning venue for comedy, music, cabaret and club nights " as it describes itself. So yesterday the floor was sticky - noisily sticky. It's a dark theatre with no windows. And we sit on theatre-type red plush velvet chairs.
Its not Anglican. We are even having a sabbatical from that.
Two baskets are passed around after the worship. One is to contribute financially if one feels prompted to do so - we are told there is no pressure and certainly not for visitors; the other is - oh joy! - full of sweets! Help yourself to something to chew/suck/delight in during the talk. Red love hearts of dark chocolate. Miniature tubes of parma violets and love hearts. Lollipops.
Yesterday, I took 2 red shiny papered chocolate hearts. Smoothed the empty papers and folded and refolded as I tried to listen.
But MY heart was full of something else.
Something we had sung.
"And I - I surrender
All to you, All to you ..."
It wasn't the 'normal' surrender - me, my life, my desires, my possessions ....
It was the pain of the previous week.
Surrendering even that. Letting go of my right to the pain.
It was all I had to offer up. I opened palms up, imagined the pain leaning on them.
Here it is, Lord. It's all I have right now to give You.
* * *
Monday morning. Awakening to the memory of the pain.
And the memory of the offering. Offered once, now offered again.
The reality of Sunday's offering needed in the reality of the light of Monday morning.
* * *
And again, a certain relief in the offering. Remembering how it felt the first time. Needing to feel that again - 'seeing' Him on the Cross metaphorically leaning down to take my pain and add it to what is already carried in His body.
Died He for me - who caused His pain?
And for those pains of mine and for those who caused them.
I surrender all to You - even my pain.
And in surrendering, know His grace.
I will need it again tomorrow - and tomorrow - for I forget and the vision leaks.
* * *
Monday is the test of Sunday's reality. To God be the glory. All is gift.