benediction
I suppose you really had to be there, but I'll try.
Think "Youth Awareness Update Sunday" at church, and you don't know any of the youth. Then think "friendly family gathering on an attractively trimmed hilltop overlooking a small lake."
So where would YOU like to go for church? Right. That's what we did, six of us.
Oh, don't worry... spontaneity didn't rule; this was a well-planned escape, and it went according to plan. So we had some readings and some singings and some prayings. And we had a benediction.
You see, Grandpa has geese. Not farm geese, wild geese. A small family of Canadas has taken up residence at his lake, the Hidden Mere, and they joined us for church, four of them perched and preening just over there on the grass, maybe twenty yards away from our seated group. Fine enough.
But when we had finished with our service and were just quietly chatting, enjoying the morning, a larger flock flew from west to east across the sky, a half-mile or more away to the south. Nice!
But then the flock swung northward in a big arc and came back from behind us. As they approached, Jean began to count. The flock split, with the closest group passing south of us, cupping their wings and making a ski-skid landing on the water. It was picture-perfect, but of course neither Del nor I had the presence of mind to lift a camera!
Behind us, the rest of the flock split again, one group swinging past the little island to land out of view on the main body of the lake. The final group, bringing Jean's tally to 44, came from the north down the neck of the lake, passing right in front of us and over the first group before splashing down. The whole lake rang with goose chatter.
The one goose and three goslings that had come to worship with us got up from the grass, marched down the slope to the water and swam off to meet the visitors. Those of us among the congregation who would find that type of interaction more challenging packed up our lawn chairs and drove away, fully aware that we had been blessed
Like I said, I suppose you really had to be there.
Think "Youth Awareness Update Sunday" at church, and you don't know any of the youth. Then think "friendly family gathering on an attractively trimmed hilltop overlooking a small lake."
So where would YOU like to go for church? Right. That's what we did, six of us.
Oh, don't worry... spontaneity didn't rule; this was a well-planned escape, and it went according to plan. So we had some readings and some singings and some prayings. And we had a benediction.
You see, Grandpa has geese. Not farm geese, wild geese. A small family of Canadas has taken up residence at his lake, the Hidden Mere, and they joined us for church, four of them perched and preening just over there on the grass, maybe twenty yards away from our seated group. Fine enough.
But when we had finished with our service and were just quietly chatting, enjoying the morning, a larger flock flew from west to east across the sky, a half-mile or more away to the south. Nice!
But then the flock swung northward in a big arc and came back from behind us. As they approached, Jean began to count. The flock split, with the closest group passing south of us, cupping their wings and making a ski-skid landing on the water. It was picture-perfect, but of course neither Del nor I had the presence of mind to lift a camera!
Behind us, the rest of the flock split again, one group swinging past the little island to land out of view on the main body of the lake. The final group, bringing Jean's tally to 44, came from the north down the neck of the lake, passing right in front of us and over the first group before splashing down. The whole lake rang with goose chatter.
The one goose and three goslings that had come to worship with us got up from the grass, marched down the slope to the water and swam off to meet the visitors. Those of us among the congregation who would find that type of interaction more challenging packed up our lawn chairs and drove away, fully aware that we had been blessed
Like I said, I suppose you really had to be there.
posted by Karl Detrich | 6:24 AM
1 Comments:
What a lovely Sunday morning! It reminds me of an Emily Dickinson poem called Nature (Part Two):
Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.
Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church,
Our little sexton sings.
God preaches,—a noted clergyman,—
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I ’m going all along!
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