Under the altar

I remember when I first came back to St. Mark's in 2007 it was difficult to figure out where to sit.   I tried out many different pews.  I filled in as supply priest for a couple services.  Now I have a counseling office almost directly below the altar, next to Parents' Day Out, down the hall from the choir room, across from the vesting sacristy.  I have a window that opens and shuts and is half above ground/half underground.  I am anchored here.  Finally I am anchored.  Under the altar.  I am home.

I am anchored

Under the altar now,

Next to children singing Jesus loves me.

I am moored

Down the hall from the choir.

They practice to sing

Upstairs in the loft.

I hold the windowsill.

Outside my window

Jesus sits on a bench,

Draws pictures in pencil

In the shade

Of the heat of the day.

He sits in the shadow

Of the crooked pine.

I am anchored

Under the altar.

Footsteps above me

Walk to communion.

They echo

In this space

Under the altar.

I hear what happens

Underneath it all,

Down the hall.

I grab the windowsill,

Watch what happens

Outside on a bench

In the shade,

In the shadow,

Of the crooked pine.

Jesus sits there.