Wednesday, September 17, 2014
We've been taking Merissa up for communion lately. We did this last Sunday. The first time, she shared the host with me, but this time, she received her own thin wafer and immediately took a no-nonsense bite out of it. She is hungry and here is food shaped the perfect size.
I dipped mine in the communion cup and gave her the edge, so she could taste the wine. She did so, with a thoughtful look. Our faces were close together, bent toward one another. Joy flew through me as a sparrow darts up from the grass toward the bluing sky, all flutter into expanse of quiet. I am compelled by joy to kiss her cheek; we don't have to use words. We stand, she still clutches some of her host in one chubby hand and we retire from the rail.
By pre-arrangement, I gave her to her father and he took her out into the foyer to crawl around on the patterned rug and be happy. Left to myself, I let down the padded rail and closed my eyes, let the present close over me, the weight of my body held on my knees, the murmur of companionable voices, the organ above and behind me in the choir loft.
There was the pleasure of being alone, one person not a wife and not a mother and not a daughter, just myself, this inner person, ageless and delighted and with no particular need to speak anything at all to Jesus because He was right there.
I could see Jesus close and bending down, His face above me. He had no need to speak because I can understand the things His heart is saying just in the beating, and without moving at all, I could throw my arms around Him in warm recognition and nestle my head on His shoulder and take joy in Him.
No one would see anything but myself on the pew now, my hands clasped in my lap, but I remember where my life really lies, where I'm forever hidden and one day- no more veil.
But at the end of that day, the rain drums on the asphalt roof just above my head and Merissa's, as she lies in my nap, bottle in her hands. Her face is like porcelain turned rosy pink at the cheeks and nose. Her round belly rises easily with each breath. The thunder does not bother her.
We sit in the room is swallowed up in blue grey haze, cradled in the sound of the rain, the running of it down the windows.