All I really want to do is bring out the best....the road travelled in the pursuit of faith or social networks ... starts with a white New England church on the river. Here I put poems in the collection basket because it was what I valued and the best I had to give. I imagined that counting of money might be more enchanting with notes of promise. I do not have copies of these offerings. Fitting as they would not be gifts if I kept them. I wanted the words to be like Joni's ... simple in their universality. I scribbled about the powers of water, the mysteries of gravestones and the wonder of light coming through colored glass, bespeaking more of distraction than talent. Once a month I got to reflect on the blood of the lamb; or the marketing of Welches.
A decade later I was the counter of monies and I wistfully wished for a note of promises but the congregation was thin on youthfulness and numbers in general. The mysteries were more around the out-of-the box use of the building for non-traditional worshipers: the LBG Community of New Haven and Koreans.
I do have a great fondness for my time in this community. When I was a new mom; they rallied helping my 1st 10 days to be full of comfort and friendship. I was the biggest fan of this gathering of strangers that shared pot luck and some need for heaven. The organ player, a lonely gay man, was like a hero on Sunday mornings taking all our spirits to a place of communion with his music. It was a piece of heaven ... this loose but remarkable connection to human kind.
Today was Same Day Sunday .... the preparation of local Sunday Services for digital sharing for those house bound or not willing to submit to the suffocating heat. Sometimes I want to share the blood; sometimes illusions comfort but on the River, I choose to skate away. Like Holiday music the air fills sweetly for a season and promises to return again about the same time next year.
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