I often hear the comment, "I am unworthy." If we waited until this mythical state of worthiness appeared, none of us would ever get to take communion. Communion is not a merit badge. It is strength for the journey. It is the table that is always set and where no one is never turned away. It is not our table. It belongs solely to God. I serve and I clean up. I have said before that I really should be wearing an apron.
In this community, I do not even think there is a budget for activities. Even I can hear that the piano is out of tune. Some of its parts are held together by duct tape. However, it is here, where I have learned that Alzheimer's is certainly not the only serious disease that can befall a human, that I hear the most alleluias. It is here that most eyes are focused on me as I read and talk about God. It is here that some will question what I am saying. It is here that a weary assistant will humbly take communion and then quietly return to shifting wheel chairs, pouring juice, finding napkins, and all the other tasks that it takes to support the living every day. It is here where Laurie, whose hands are completely stiffened and turned inward, will give me a crooked thumbs up and a funny smile when I ask how she is doing. It is here where Robert refused communion for a year, but now accepts and takes my hand and whispers thank you. He has stopped crying.
It is here where I fall in love with Jesus once again.