From My Perspective...

My goal was to get through both Catholic and Presbyterian services this morning without having to endure either the marching-band quality of For All the Saints or the jauntiness of I Sing a Song of the Saints of God, and without breaking down as the litany of names of this year's deceased was read. It was my first attempt to return to my own church since the memorial service for our son two months ago, and I managed to achieve none of my desired ends, but the morning brought other gifts ~

An early morning email from my spiritual director ~ yes, he has some extra time for me as I begin to address the question of whether/when to return to seminary, which could be as soon as in four weeks ~

Beautiful mass readings from Wisdom, Romans, and Matthew ~

(And then: Thought I was on target until after the final hymn when, sure enough, the recessional was For All the Saints ~ Which was then the processional at my own church, where I arrived just a couple of minutes too early to avoid it ~ And was eventually followed by, again, sure enough, "I Sing a Song . . .," which actually gave me a little smile as three darling little girls crowded into the pulpit to sing the first verse, and I have wonderful memories of the time period when the Lovely Daughter would have been one of those little girls) ~

Redemption (for me) with the choir's singing of Agnus Dei from Durufle's Requiem during the offering ~

The solemn reading of names, through which I remained dry-eyed until the very last and unexpected insertion of the name of the father of the friend with whom I was seated; as I said to her, "It's always the surprises that get you" ~

The hands and arms reaching out to touch and embrace me as I walked down the center of the church toward communion, and the tears of our pastor as she served me ~

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful communion music: In the Singing and Jesus the Lord Said, 'I Am the Bread.'

So. I made it. And I feel cared for. Maybe I can do it again.