I went to church last night – the Maundy Thursday service. That’s when we remember the last meal Jesus shared with his disciples. Mommy and I had been in the same church Ash Wednesday, 44 days earlier.
On Ash Wednesday, I sat there thinking, “we’ll have her with us when we come back Easter.”
Last night, I was in the same pew facing the fact that you won’t be with us Easter. After 44 days of waiting, and looking forward to seeing you, and 44 days of your social worker doing nearly nothing, we still don’t have you.
I’ve had many emotional experiences at this church, and last night was really tough. All types of emotions swirled through me at the same time. Memories of past sadnesses and present loneliness because you and your mommy are so far away. I also had feelings of love and joy and optimism thinking about the time we will spend together in the future. The family we’ll be together, and the family we’ll share at this church.
All of these emotions overcame me last night because the emotions are connected, good and bad, happy and sad, all overlapping like hands and fingers interlocking in prayer. Tears of joy mixed with tears of sadness.
The emotions were connected just as we’re all connected by the Spirit of the Creator moving across creation. The breath of the Lord moves across creation, across the sweaty face of Jesus, across me in the church pew, and across your delicate skin as your mommy holds you.
After visiting this church off and on over the past seven years, I told the minister that mommy and I intend to join the church on Easter.
“Welcome home,” he said.