Yesterday we went to a service at a healing centre near my parents’ house. We left the boys in their very capable hands and took our weary aching bodies to a quiet sun filled chapel for a sit down and reminder of a God who works in wilderness times. A God who might feel distant but is at work redeeming, acting and producing good in our lives.
We prayed through morning prayer and I was reminded of how much I love the rhythm of liturgy, the calls and responses, the declaration of truths that are bigger than me and my world. I miss the depths of those truths and the joining with people through the ages in being refreshed by them again. It wasn’t a life changing experience but it was good to grasp stillness. It was good to listen and to hear my body crying for rest and hope.
Going there also reminded us of the strange alienation of dropping into a close knit community. It’s a service that happens once a week and was clearly populated by regulars. There was laughter at things we didn’t understand and although we were made very welcome we still felt the oddness of being visitors. I think this was heightened as we were the youngest there by someway.
I guess that stranger feeling happens anywhere you go when you drop into others community. Everything was clearly explained in a helpful manner but still we felt the tinge of being outsiders. I don’t think that was a bad thing, just an observation. It’s helpful to then be aware of how others might feel coming into our communities. The feeling of otherness is inevitable but it can be pushed through. It’s a lesson in persevering even though something might feel odd at first.