Sunday, July 22, 2007

Dearest God,

My last Sunday to sit among the crashing waves, floating lobster buoys, sail boats and fishing boats, sea gulls soaring overhead. My final Sunday to offer up my praise by the marble altar situated at the rock edge of the Atlantic Ocean in Kennebunkport, Maine. My eyes scan the scene before me, the drive into St. Ann's, the channel where boats, yachts, and vessels enter and leave, the open water, Walker's Point, the jagged rock shore. I join with the regulars, the visitors, the former president, curiosity seekers, my husband and friends to worship together one last time before returning home.

ML invites me to join him in serving the Eucharist to your own people. We sing and pray. We give our offerings and listen to the Word and we are reminded that your word lasts forever. Together our voices ring in unison, "Our Father who art in heaven..." And then I step forward, joining him at the center of our worship.

ML, in his purple robe, white cassock, and multi-colored stole blowing in the ocean breeze feeds me Christ, then hands me the silver chalice filled with white wafers. We stand before the altar and the people step forward, hands held outward to receive, first the president, his wife and many members of his family, then the rest of the hungry flock. I hold the wafer high before them, "the body of Christ, the bread of heaven," then place it in their hands, my thumb and forefinger holding on a brief moment for a blessing. I gaze into the eyes of each hungry soul while the sun shines its rays down upon us. We stand in your presence. "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me..." we sing as we conclude our time of worship in the outdoor sanctuary, home to God.

By your standards we are universally human. Our beliefs and doctrines, those ideas, concepts that we hold dear may differ slightly but our visitation is by one God only. The God among many gods. My home may be a thousand miles away but next Sunday I will worship this same God, you my Heavenly Father. My own flock will stand to revere you at the same time others in millions of churches will do simultaneously.

Some say one must go apart in silence, to retreat with the One and Only to know one's own deep inner self, that intersection place where you reside. To choose to walk alone until our steps are met by yours. To be in reverence and awe.

Yesterday I stepped gently into awe. I wore black as I danced at the ocean shore. My feet leaving prints in the wet sand, I stood until you sang within me..."In the bleak midwinter...frosty wind made moan...what can I give him...give him my heart." I don't know that my arms ever raised higher, my hands more open, my eyes more fixed on heaven. The wind catching the hem of my skirt, the water rushing in to hug my ankles, the radiant sun rays beaming downward upon me, a smile more wide upon my face. I have tasted grace, the same Christ I received at the altar this morning. The sweet, sweet taste of heaven.

I have found Christ, the same one I came looking for on these days of vacation. Quiet moments dancing alone and with you, sprinkling ashes of Ann, baptizing Lucy, leading women in holy retreat opportunities, playing with grandchildren, sharing in secret moments with my husband, making new from my Pleasant Street home to my own soul's center, I have found you, waiting for me.

Great and Glorious God,
how I long
to remain with you,
my soul
permanently attached
to you.
During busy days
and lazy days,
always knowing
your loving presence.
Vacation days
and work days
working alongside you
reveling in your glory.
How might I say
thank you?
How may I truly
show my gratitude,
my joy,
adoration?
Maranatha,
come Lord Jesus.

Love, Andrea