Woke up early, decided to head out for a morning walk, have a think about how to spend a rare full day off. Plan was to start preparation work for launching into the first of several painting projects in the house to spruce it up with the paint I bought a few months ago which hasn’t moved from its spot in the laundry. Met a friend during the walk who wanted to use one of my CDs in the Good Friday service at our small community church, so a quick shower and a piece of toast saw me arrive at the service I had contemplated missing in order for my task to get underway early.
A dimly lit hall and reflective music greeted us, a single cross of stout eucalypt branches elevated on the stage. With the crucifixion story simply read, a dramatization of Mary Magdalene approaching the cross in her grief, the reading of The Ragman, a wonderful perspective on the Easter story by Walter Wangerin Jnr, and an intimate sharing of communion including the gift of a nail pressed firmly into the palm of our hand to carry with us, all combined to have quite a remarkable effect on those present.
Not one who appreciates any sort of formality when it comes to things in the spiritual realm, I was moved to tears several times during the service, something quite unusual for me, and it wasn’t that anything was contrived to produce that effect. Most of my God moments for want of a better term, those times when I become most aware of my connection with the Creator, usually occur in nature. Even coming across a stick insect the other day perched next to the petrol bowser at the servo on my way to work made me laugh, wondering what on earth God was thinking when he made that one up. Tells me he certainly has a sense of humour anyway.
It is the simple things rather than big symbols which speak to me. Scarlet robins on the clothes line, blue wrens hopping around the yard, ladybirds crawling on my hand, hawks on the roadside showing no fear as I drive past, sun lizards on the back step, tiny frogs on the window sill, waterfalls, sunsets, a roaring fire, these and more are all God’s gifts to me, given at just the right moment to let me know he knows what I need to feed my spirit.
So, how much sanding did I do? Absolutely none. The best laid plans are sometimes better put aside in favour of heartfelt contemplation and spending time with friends.
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