We are an unlikely group. A collection of mis-matched generations that crawl out of bed on a random Sunday morning for an improbable adventure — visiting a new church. We like to do this every once in a while — prompted by a sermon one of us heard on the radio, or the appeal of a new venue, or by the recommendation of something we heard from a friend on the street. So we head out, coordinating our google maps ensuring that we won’t get there too late after the service starts.
What must people think of us, as they sit in their own traditional group, to see us, a random group of people squeezing in, trying to make ourselves at home, when we are clearly strangers in this place?
This Sunday, there was tea outside the service. The little boys saw it right away, and said, “Mom!” I indulged myself — but before I walked away, I grabbed two more cups, and the little boys pulled out tea bags and I helped them make their own cups of tea. Being sure not to fill the cup all the way to the top, so as to intensify the three packets of sugar I was adding to each of their cups. It takes quite a bit of persuasion to get little boys comfortable for an adventure like this.
So, we settled into our seats, as this new voice, in this strange new place, began to tell the same familiar stories we have heard over and over again, and brought us a small bit of insight and comfort to carry us on for the rest of the week.
Tea. It’s what settles and binds us.
As we drove away and left, the little boys said, “I think I would like to go back to that church sometime. It was very relaxing. Is that bad? To say that a church is relaxing?”
No sweetie, I think that’s exactly what church is supposed to be like. But of course, that decision was not unanimous… and I’m sure another Sunday morning adventure is waiting on the wings.