Snippet of the day: memory from Valentine's Day morning

. . . this morning was full of all kinds of ideas and memories and examples of love, in many different forms, and as I sat in the worship gathering this morning listening to the message, I found myself wanting to write about some of them. But with the brief time allotted me this afternoon, I will not even attempt to write anything long and focused, but will just get down a few of the ideas/feelings that are floating around in my brain.

And, knowing me, it will still be long, but unfocused. ; ) . . . .


I found this unfinished, unpublished post this afternoon when I sat down to write a bit. It is from way back before Lent. I must have forgotten to finish it before my Lenten break. And I will not be able to finish it now--I have no idea were I was headed with this! I am sure it would have been a fascinating post--probably one of my best ever! ; ) I for one am intrigued by the "ideas and memories and examples of love" and wish I knew what beautiful raptures of mind and spirit my pre-Lent self was experiencing that morning.


Anyhoo, I won't try to fake it now. But there were two bits of that forgotten post that I was pleased to see and recall--they are worth holding onto, and sharing:

Getting to church, getting the kids settled in their classrooms/nursery, getting into the service a little late, walking through the Abbey coffeelounge (awesome nonprofit located in the church's former "fellowship hall") and seeing my husband in line for coffee, and he says he is buying me a chai (Which I have been doing without on a regular basis in an attempt to be more frugal). I realize the person in front of him in line is my dear Becky. The cashier is ringing up her breakfast purchase. Becky turns to me and without a beat tells the cashier to add "whatever they are having" to her total. I disagree with her, she disagrees back, she says she has missed me, I say I have missed her, we hug, and while we are carrying on in friendship my husband slips in and pays for hers and ours. She realizes, she disagrees, he and I disagree back, laughing, she and I hug again.

One of those tiny moments of life, of laughter, of friendship. It sums up so much of what I hold dear these days.

And then the feeling of warm connectedness continued when we walked back to the overflow room and sat down to watch the video stream of the service happening next door in the main sanctuary. (The overflow room being the Sunday morning haven for nursing moms, parents who have their toddlers with them, people too embarassed to try to find a seat so late in the main gathering, and people eating. Some Sundays I am all of these!) It just so happened this morning Becky's husband Dan was giving the message, the last in an excellent series about experiencing "Shalom" (peace) in our lives, in all its facets. This week the talk was about eternal Shalom.

Becky pulled out her knitting, and we sat contentedly, listening, not distracted (overly much) by the babies in the room crying out or spilling Cheerios. Every now and then one of us would lean over and quietly comment to one another about something Dan had just said. And I had a sudden flash in my mind's eye, of the two of us years upon years down the road, old women sitting companionably together at church, listening, knitting, not distracted (overly much) by the young families around us, putting our wintered heads together every now and again to quietly comment on something just said from the pulpit. . . .


This is one of the things that defines friendship for me: comfortable companionship.