Fluffy

This morning, sitting at the welcome table outside the front doors of St. Mark*s, Glen Ellyn,  Ken and I waited with brochures and water bottles and yearly schedules to hand out to new people.  St. Mark*s is bigger than most churches I have belonged to or served as a priest.  On occasion I have an ache for smallness, and the community smallness brings.  Everyone knowing everyone else.  I have served two communities with prayer boards and erasable markers available for everyone to use, to name their own prayer concerns.  Sometimes outside groups, like AA or Al-Anon, added people or concerns to the list, and we*d include them in the bulletin.  Sometimes the prayer shawl knitters who met in the narthex would knit the prayers into the shawls they were making, the prayer board being right behind their chairs, and the nametag board on the other side.  We even prayed for pets who had died.  I am reminded we always welcome people, and pray for people, just as God sees people: one at a time.

This morning I sat at the welcome table

Outside

In the cool morning breeze.

I read the lessons before coming

To church.

This morning

In the cool morning breeze

I knew again

That I miss smallness.

I miss the prayer boards

Of at least two congregations.

Members wrote their prayer concerns,

The date,

Their initials.

When even a pet died,

Fluffy was added to the prayer board.

People gathered around,

Talked about what a shame

To lose Fluffy.

It was not the time or place

To wonder whether God embraced

Dead pets.

We simply knew any loss

On the prayer board

Was a loss.

God cared about it

And so did we.

Today in the cool breeze

I talked with my welcome table partner,

Realized I missed smallness:

Everyone knowing everyone else

Remembering all the grandparents and parents

The small and large griefs,

Fluffy on the prayer board

And most people knowing

Who Fluffy was.