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Wednesday Wanderings

A little journey through this topsy-turvy journey of joys and sorrows and hopes and dreams with plenty of grace from God along the way.

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With the first congregation I served with out of seminary, there was Alice. Alice was one of those church individuals who must have been under the impression that God was nudging her to keep tabs on her second family of sorts, her siblings in Christ, as they walked in the main entrance doors into the narthex area. She would sit on that pew in that socially delicate area with those who just wanted to get to their seats in the sanctuary, as well as those who wanted to verbally process all the life events from the week before. And although Alice had her quirks and her fair share of gruffness, to be sure, she cherished each one who came into those entrance doors just the same. So maybe she was under the impression (even if she pulled it off in her own…unique way at times) that she was called by God to not only be the church’s welcoming committee, of sorts, but to embody the Divine hospitality to all who entered that holy/delicate space: those who had been coming every Sunday for decades, and those who did so with some hesitation and curiosity for the very first time.

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I don’t know if growing up on a farm impacted how much Halloween wasn’t quite as high on the favorite holiday list as it might have been for others at the time. Not as many decorations went up for us, as they would in a couple months. No immediately surrounding houses with ghosts and goblins and skeletons filling front yards and porches. Nevertheless, there was still a process picking out the costume year-by-year, reflecting the interest or fascination or curiosity of that particular stage of life. There might have been more nerdiness reflected than anything else over those trick-or-treating times.

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And so it begins: another chapter to what seems like as much of a tradition to any church as certain cherished worship services and delicious potlucks…the rummage sale. The general public will walk in and witness a rather organized chaos of household items and assorted clothing neatly distributed on tables, not realizing the pain-staking and patience-testing hours (and even days) it took for in-the-background volunteers to make it appear miraculously organized. And the rummaging will ensue, to see if someone else’s…filled-its-purpose-for-a-time item, can fulfill the rummager’s want or desire or need for whatever period of time. In the end, all such tireless sorting into sifting-through into humbling generosity will eventually lead to benefiting our youth as they venture to Minneapolis, Minnesota, next summer for the ELCA Youth Gathering.

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Evidently, it was on this day two hundred years ago, that the first commercial railway opened in the United States. On October 7, 1826, the Granite Railway began operation in Massachusetts, partially to haul the granite blocks needed to construct the Bunker Hill Monument, commemorating the respective Revolutionary War battle. So, reading through this little history lesson brings me back to the railroad track that remains behind the field surrounding the home base of the family farm in northwest Ohio.

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This upcoming weekend, we’ll celebrate World Communion Sunday, which oftentimes reminds me of our honeymoon to Italy, starting off in Rome to see the usual tourist spots of the Vatican and St. Peter’s Basilica, along with the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps; but the actual relaxation and awe-inspiring serenity didn’t really take hold until we got to Venice…a whole ‘nother culture in comparison to the Eternal City of Rome.