Our Church

Until fairly recently, I never heard Pamela say a word.  Generally, she comes soundlessly into worship, accepts Communion, and then quietly leaves.   She always has make-up on, albeit slightly askew.  Her overall look is slightly unorthodox and a bit disconcerting, but does hint of a woman who enjoys dressing.    

Two months ago, she came into worship just a few minutes late.  This is not unusual for her.  However, instead of finding an empty seat as she usually does, she walked up to me and asked, "Will you be serving Communion soon?" 

Surprised, and in mid-hymn, I responded, 'Yes, in just a few minutes.'

'Good. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.  I miss my lover.'  I was completely taken aback, and could only mutter rather ineptly, "Why, yes, I am sure you do."  

 

After worship today, there was an empty seat beside her, so I sat next to her for a few minutes while the pianist continued to play.  We compared bracelets - mine a single plain silver bangle, while her four bracelets were made up of colorful beads.  She also had on a very nice pair of leather shoes.   I said, "Pamela, I do believe you enjoy clothes."   

We both giggled.  She replied, 'Oh yes, we must do the best we can.' 

 

Rae also lives in this community.  Today she said, "I love this church.  By the way, is this your church or my church?" 

I had to smile.  'Perhaps we should simply call this our church.'

'Good idea.  By the way, I love your long hair.'

My hair is actually short while hers reaches below her shoulders.  'Thank you, but you are the one with the beautiful long hair.'

She laughed heartily and said, 'Oh, yea.'   

   

I do love this church.  Even if I am a bit underdressed, we are all indeed doing the best that we can.