today, as you may have noticed, is Sunday. I think that most of the Western world think sSunday is another day to sleep in. It should be, in my opinion. Especially when I got up yesterday early and stayed up late last night playing hearts and laughing to the soundtrack of the Beatles with my awesome family.
It seemed unfortunate at the time that I was rolling out of bed in the dark at 5.45 am. You heard me. And I wasn’t just up to hug my brother before he set off in his T-6. I got up that early so I had time for a latte before leaving for church at 6.45. Of course, I don’t run on time, so I arrived at 7.10 instead of 7. But Aaron and Tye said it didn’t matter and put me to work right away.
You see, I’m on the set up and tear down crew, on a bi-weekly rotation.
Today, I unloaded one of these huge black rolling cases that must be six feet tall two feet thick and five feet wide. I almost got run over on the way down the ramp, even as I tried to hold it at bay with all the strength of my comparably weightless little self. I helped set up the children’s room with Tye and he asked me question after question. And after service, we did the same thing in reverse. I am the only girl on our crew, it was great fun. We laughed about my betrayal of Denver–due to occur tomorrow night when I cheer for Roethlisberger and Palomalu. I told the guys they had to do the heavy lifting and smiled my way through the manual labour that was more fun than anyone should have been allowed.
At the end, Aaron stood in the back of our trailer and throwing his hands to the wind, spread eagle, he grinned: “that’s basically it Sara,” he said. Tye hugged me and called me “sister.” John said I managed to weasle my on to the “good crew,” and I said that I only work with the best.
Tonight, I went to my old church, which is a great place too. I sat in the nursery, hugged a few children, handed out toys, wiped noses–the usual. I even went to “cafe” and socialized with some people over dinner. But there was something missing. No fault of the people there. Maybe it was the lack of sweat, or the plush chairs or the way I ignored someone I knew, or just the awkwardness of being there again–three years later and totally different than I was. Or maybe, it just wasn’t right, in a totally unexplainable way.
But I like my new church. And do you know, I didn’t think that was possible. But I LIKE my church. I like the people. I like the crummy donuts out front. I like the theatre seats that almost put me to sleep this morning. I like my pastor and his very cheerful wife and their three beautiful children. I like my church. I could have shouted it from the rooftops today! I have been so irritated with the church lately. But this was beauty at the early hours of the morning. My pastor knows my name! People give me hugs! People caaaaare about me. People love me here.
And the picture? Well, that, my friends, is how I feel about the church right now. And I don’t mean mine, I mean the whole big world wide church.