The worship service was proceeding well. Spirits were high; the participants were as cheerful as the springlike weather outside.
The congregation was singing “I Am A Friend of God.” The parson paused in his singing to look over the assembled saints. As usual, the younger ones were gathered in the first few pews directly in front of the pulpit. Memory interrupted the parson's melodic offering. A couple of those younger ones had not been born when he came to this church. Others had come down that first Sunday for his “Children's Sermon.” Now, seven years later, they were still sitting in the same pew, a few of them in college. A few years back the church had changed the title from “Children's Sermon” to “Not Just for Kids” time.
The service proceeded as usual, prayers, songs, scripture, offering. And then when it came time for that “Not Just for Kids” portion the parson noted those particular pews were no longer occupied by the younger ones. They'd moved to the other side of the church.
The parson was puzzled. Surely, he'd remembered his deodrant. The younger ones were gracious enough to move back for that special time. But as soon as it was over they moved back to the other side of the church.
After the service the parson asked some questions. They'd moved, it seemed, because Emma Watson, a recently widowed senior citizen was sitting by herself on that far side. The youth collectively had decided she didn't need to be sitting alone.
It was a rare Sunday, a Sunday when the parson felt he'd really been at worship.
tissues please
Posted by: wondering | February 21, 2011 at 06:26 AM
They learned from their leader. A thoughful man.
Posted by: Matthew | February 22, 2011 at 10:18 PM