Sunday Things

Sunday morning dawned cold and clear. We had our morning oats,
enjoyed a few minutes of music in the living room then trotted off
to church.

The church we are attending, Mosaic, is non-traditional in a
number of ways. First the building doubles as an all age
“night club” called Fathom, and it looks as much like a club
as a church.

Second, it supports the arts. It looks more like a gallery
then a church.

Then there are the services,
about half an hour of music, then a prayer, a brief break and then a
sermon with bible reading woven into it. There is a lot of visual
media in the mix, including images, movie clips and the like. The
sermon is given from a stool near the seating, not from a podium or
raised platform.

None of this seems odd to me. Going to church at all does.

No one cares or asks what any one person believes or doesn’t
believe. Best of all, there is a terrific mix of people, none of whom
seem very nosy about what we do, where we do it, where we are
from etcetera ad nauseam. A very nice girl never fails to ask us
what we did during the past week, which I never manage to answer
without, unintentionally, sounding evasive. I can’t say, I am a
paralegal and this week I did xyz, and I am a painter and I am
working on something now, (in fact, even in my head as we speak)
and I do volunteer work that I love and this week I sorted and
labeled old blueprints and architectural elevations and I am in week
three of my eating plan and doing pretty good at it but I am
thinking about making spinach and feta cheese pastries with filo
dough because I am reading a book called the Sultan’s Kitchen and
when I leave here today I am going to my mothers. Deep breath.
It really is pointless, I can just imagine her kind eyes glazing over as
I speak. So I say, oh just working and enjoying the spring. Sounds
evasive, maybe even sneaky or unsocial, but so far it’s the best I
have managed.

Other then the chatty girl, who is, as I may have said, very nice, and
pretty also, no one seems very nosy at all. Very good.

Now, after church we went to Mom’s house. A nice visit was had
by all. Everyone is happy, which childishly I do not like, because
we are going to church. They assume, possibly not correctly, that
this means that I am not A) dancing ecstatically around a bonfire,
B) worshiping God using a foreign name that G-d might not like or
answer to or C) planning a trip to an Ashram. They hope this
means that I will transform into a good right minded x-tain, just like
them. I will even learn to vote republican...ha ha ha. Maybe I will
even take up eating PORK, like a good evangelical. HA HA HA,
not even if falls from heaven on a sheet...

This week, (back to church) the three piece ensemble, did a version
of “When I survey the wondrous cross...” that made the hairs stand
up on my arms. The sermon was pretty good as well.
Unfortunately I was having some interesting chest pains, and
frankly I was paying as much attention to my innards as to the
sermon. I also got to see many small children zinging around and
screeching with happiness as they hunted eggs. The little kids
really made me happy.

None of this seems odd to me. Going to church at all does.

Have a good week, I’m thinking of you (and filo dough and
accident reconstruction and frozen leaves)