Monday, February 1, 2010

A Sticky Wicket (in a green cardigan no less)

In this church, I could tell Mr. Hall was more relaxed. His body wasn't so stiff, he was melding in the pew. He sang a bit louder and clearer. Then, half way through, he reached over and nuzzled my hand with his.

I felt better too. It was smaller. The color pallet was warmer; more browns and reds. They also had a orchestra of sorts. The bell ringers wore black gloves. They had an electric acoustic guitar player. A baby grand was manned by an earnest soprano. Music was stirring my sleepy heart.

As I was sitting there, listening, I wondered about everyone in the room. I mean, here we all sat; in three sets of pews. Each one of us, saying the prayers and singing the songs. We invoked the universal and mighty, all by declaring the most personal. But, does everyone feel the spirit? The whole lot of us?

Or is it just me?

Then there was the sermon about light. About how God is light. How in times of need, when everything is crashing around us, we need to get back to the building blocks of faith. To rebuild we need to go to the light and the feeling of God's love. And all my millions of thoughts came to a screeching halt.

It was during communion. I was waiting my turn to rise and eat the wafer. I found myself blinking back sticky wicket tears. I tugged the sleeve of my green cardigan over the palm of my hand and dabbed my tears with it. Mr. Hall took notice and smiled. I smiled. And though the tears were dainty, they carried a ton. I tend to forget that my job is hard. I tend to forget that everyday people come to my office and unearth pain for me to take. I tend to take it on, like it's mine to fix. I tend to think I'm in charge of things. As a result, I've been shutting off to my patients lately.

Not listening as much. Not caring as much. Getting shorter and apathetic.

But here, in the pew, I was letting go. My pain was leaving and light was entering. I was so moved. So comforted. Then it was my turn to rise. I took the wafer and the wine.

16 Left a message at the beep:

Maureen@IslandRoar said...

I am just catching up on all I've missed in the bloggy world this past week, and can I say I love your blog and your writing so much!
I love the way you describe Mr. Hall and your work and your feelings.A real joy.

Mrs. Holly Hall said...

Awww. . . Shucks Maureen . . yer too kind ;)

The Savage said...

Lovely :D

Mrs. Holly Hall said...

yeah, it is- isn't it? ;)

GiGi said...

I tend to feel that way during mass a lot. For some reason, I always get so emotional...that is, when I can concentrate on the homily and not my children complaining, while doing what I like to call a 'loud whisper'.

Slyde said...

we ALMOST went to church this past sunday. it would have been the first time ive been to a sunday service in probably 10 years. maybe next week.

Cam said...

I just love this post.

No other words to add, it is perfection.

Bruce said...

Glad you got your dose of sweetness and light, but the Bruser still hates organized religion....baaah..... I'll take a walk in the deep woods anyday.

Mrs. Holly Hall said...

GiGi: You bring all the little ones to church with you! Whew! I either keep them home with grandma or have them be part of nursery school because man o man.. so glad you can concentrate some of the time :) Glad you get all emotional too. That way you know you're there, really being part of it ;)

Slyde: I would suggest going. And if the church does not strike your fancy try another one :) Find one that speaks to you and stirs your soul. ;)

Cam: Thank you Cam :)

Bruce: shocking. really shocking that part about you not being a fan of organized religion.

and also shocking, you not having anything nice or supportive to say about this post.

i'm totally shocked.

I know when you turn your back and walk away I stick my tongue out at you!!!

Susan Higgins said...

Beautiful... you brought tears to my eyes.

white rabbit said...

Sorry at the banal comment on a serious posting but you have the expression 'sticky wicket' in the states? For those not in the know it originates with cricket - the game not the insect of the same name - the glories of which Americans are generally sadly ignorant of. ;)

Mrs. Holly Hall said...

Blanco bunny: um, really, it's just there for alliteration. Because the tears were sticky.

And no, your wrong. Cricket is a game for sissies!

(ok i have no idea what cricket is just thought I'd stick up for my kind ;)

white rabbit said...

Tsk! A 5 3/4 ounce leather cased ball in the face is not for cissies. Yes, it happens! <QED

I blogroll you anyway :D

white rabbit said...

ps Ponting is Australian and deserved it!

white rabbit said...

Have some more Ponting being hit in the face...

He likes it really :D

I stop now.

Mrs. Holly Hall said...


still for wussies with their tailored white uniforms.

mhwwaa haa haa!!


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