7:15.....7:25..........8:10 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, at 8:10, it actually seemed to late....... to late to make it to 8:30 mass on time!!
I glanced at the clock, who seemed defiant at having been shunned this morning, and thought that it was indeed to late to attend our local mass. I then started to recite the mass times of the local churches with the intent of settling with one that fit my necessary criteria: the Eucharist, an interesting priest, a starting time that did not infringe on any previous commitments for the day, and within 40 miles! I almost zeroed in on a target when my husband, who was getting ready to go to work, said, "By the time you are through deciding, you could have been ready for mass and out the door."
Ten minutes later I was out the door knowing that in 4 minutes I could safely be sitting in a pew ready to worship. I lamented the fact that I had thrown on a pair of jeans, until I realized that today I had no assignments at mass that might require a dress code. The drive to mass was not a break- neck rush but a peaceful commute with no pressure to be there for anyone specifically. Strangely enough, not "dressing up" was almost a neon sign for me that I was no longer in church for any perceived pastoral responsibilities. Yes, I facilitate the preparation of 25 confirmation students, but I am not on staff in any real official capacity. I actually smiled at the thought that I was pretty much out of wearing any church titles. I walked into church this morning to receive the Eucharist, an earnest homily, the inspiration of a few hymns, and the warmth of a few fellow parishioners. Happy to report that I received all that I had anticipated, I am even happier to report that my proverbial cup had overflowed!
I distributed bulletins and smiles to those leaving mass, gave out some confirmation material to a parent and spent the next four hours working on confirmation material with my godson as his confirmation sponsor. I could not help noticing that my focus had turned outward, away from the inner workings and decisions of the institutional church. Instead of bemoaning all that the consolidation had taken away from my former church, I started to see the whole process as shunting me elsewhere. Many people around me would have a decidedly different church experience than I had had, but maybe that would lead them to the Spirit in a way that would serve their own personal journey.
I felt as if this morning, I had started an easy lope to catch a train that was slowing leaving the station. Not to worry about what I might be leaving behind, I instead need to focus on making sure I pack a bag with necessities and attain a steadfast grip on the departing train's handrail. My husband was right, by the time I am done worrying about the where's and how's, I could have already arrived at a pending destination.
I had recently read that 'Time is an energy, not a reality.' I have been given time to serve God. It really is never to late.
