SUNDAY MORNING

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, Dwelling in Presence, July 16, 2023

We are immersed in fog once again. This morning, I am going to sink right into it. Seems there is nothing else to do this summer. What a difference from last year when every Sunday morning was a marathon of activity. Editing our sermons, putting finishing touches on the service, picking up a treat for the children’s message, getting Joel to choir on time, and into the sanctuary by ten. The most restful part was when the service began with the Tibetan bell. That’s the part I miss. I always felt right at home leading a community in prayer with Joel, looking out at all the beloved faces.

Things are different now. Now on Sunday mornings we first decide if and where to go to church. It’s often weather-determined. It is interesting going from presider to first-time attendee. We’ve visited six different churches so far, a few more than once. I’ve learned that most of them feel very similar going in for the first time – many folks reach out to welcome us. It’s at coffee hour afterwards where you can get a better individual vibe of the community. See the interaction. Find if you are left standing alone or invited into the conversation. Notice how comfortable the kids are. And, for Joel, what kind of treats are offered! I’m the one who goes straight for the coffee.

Of course, first the individual services send out strong and important impressions – is there life? Laughter and tears as well as read words? Silence as well as exuberant singing? Is it truly prayer directly to God, or as my friend Linda bemoans, is it all sermon? Do I feel the Spirit? Has anything happened that wove us together as one or are we walking out as separate as we did coming in? And yes, did the message bring both grace and challenge? (Whew, I’m glad I didn’t have me as a former pastor walking into one of our services!)

Though I know I have received a lot from these various church services, I know that it is what you bring in, how you participate, and what you give that blesses the experience and makes it whole. Honestly, I have yet to feel as if I have much to give. If you’ve been following this blog, you already know I’ve been feeling peculiarly empty of me lately. It seems I did not take fully into account what the bypass surgery immediately following retirement would do to me.

But this morning, thanks to a new subscriber to the blog, I am feeling deep gratitude. She included in her message a poem by Jeff Foster. I quote the last few lines:

Thank you, Pat C. You may not know that my first plan for retirement was to enter three months of silence. I was wanting to “feel the fulness of the emptiness” and the “vastness of the silence.” My heart event changed my plans. Or did it? I may just be resisting learning in this new way – to the rhythm of a plan not my own.