So, ever since I moved to this bit of the world, I’ve been resisting going to one particular church. In fact, for the first couple of years here, I think it was a wise choice. Spending most of your adult life living it according to the ethos and charism of a particular saint, (who in my not so humble opinion did a pretty good job of following Jesus, and living his life according to the Gospel, albeit in a bit of an extreme manner at times, and a good few centuries ago now) and on changing that, going to a church dedicated to that saint, well, it wasn’t going to happen!
This year, around favourite saint time, instead of resisting, sulking, hurting like mad, I prayed the offices for the day in full, as I had done for a couple of decades prior to this. It was all OK. It was the start of my toddle back home, church-wise.
But, the question was – where? I’ve been going to one that’s an awkward bus ride away, which didn’t work on Christmas Day, there being no buses!Anyway, I was still getting the what was now becoming familiar losing the will to carry on at critical points – and despairing. Was I just going to have to accept this as part of church for me now? Was God trying to tell me something and I was just not getting it? Anyway, there were buses today, but I felt like trying this one within easy walking distance I’ve been avoiding!
And, joy, I got through! Crucially, no-one forced me to share the Peace once I’d sat down after shaking hands with my nearest neighbours.
I swear that icon winked at me as I went up for communion! I grinned back… it’s nice to know I’m back on speaking terms with my favourite saint again as well as feeling I’ve found a church that may become home after all.