Grandfather

It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear when I picked up the phone and heard my dad’s voice on the other end. It was Thanksgiving weekend, and my parents and brother and sister-in-law had been celebrating together. A few phone calls had already been exchanged between us, in Canada, and them, in Boston. I thought it a little odd that my dad was calling again so soon. And when he said the words “Grandfather passed away,” I registered it the way one might register news of a war starting in a country you’ve never heard of.

It wasn’t until the next day that I began to feel an enveloping sadness. It was less than five months ago that my grandmother died. It seems too soon for that same group of people to gather at the church again and express how sorry they are.

In the midst of sadness, though, I am glad for him. I am glad that he doesn't have to live in pain and confusion any more.

O Little Toyota

Our car is almost 10 years old. It's held up pretty well...other than a few dents here and there...and a large piece of plastic molding that detached from the inside that we screwed in after crazy glue didn't work...and a new battery here and there...for the most part though, for ten years old, it's in pretty good shape.

But last week it officially crossed over into "ghetto car". We had just arrived at the theatre to see Moving Out (the musical with Billy Joel's music). Jon went to open his door...and the handle broke off in his hand. So now we have to roll down the window on the driver's side and open the door from the outside in order to get out of the car.

First Communion

About a month ago, I led communion for the first time. My first living out of the sacrament part of being ordained as a minister of Word and sacrament. Other than forgetting a key part ("this is my body, which is for you"), it went well.

We had people come forward to receive communion, and I got to hold the elements, and, over and over, say the words "The body and blood of Christ, given for you." To look into the eyes of students and co-workers as they took communion, to hear in the background people singing "Eat This Bread," to offer these gifts to both friends and strangers...it was beautiful and profoundly moving.

I don't know if this goes away over time...if after years of being in ordained ministry, offering the gift of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper becomes less powerful. I hope not. I hope that I don't lose sight of the significance of those moments.

p.s. Does anyone other than Annie read this blog?