[this may not be a poem, but I'm going to count it in my 7 poems in 7 days thing]
I went to church for the first time in an age last night (there are valid excuses for this). It was a big cathedral looking place, with high ceilings and stained glass. I think the window had a crucified God looking down on WW1 veterans, there was a rainbow as well.
It was an Anglican church, and I was unpracticed with the responsive readings: a second late with the Thanks be to God’s. I felt a bit out place, though I don’t think it was the denominational peculiarities, or even my Seahawk jersey (I was not planning on going to church and my attire testified to this).
I felt a bit of place at church. I understand this is how many, if not most, people feel whenever they go to church but I have generally felt like I belonged, as much as anyone, in the pews. Besides being late with the readings, I was messing up the lyrics to the hymns, kneeling when I should have been stand and vice versa. It may have been lack of practice, the high ceilings or the weird window. For whatever reason my mind was wandering. When the minister (one of these charismatic young people with all sorts of potential I’m sure) began his sermon of fascinating footnotes I was thinking of slurpees. It was not a short sermon, and my thoughts of slurpees were many. This is not to blame the nice young minister, I just naturally sound a bit cynical, it’s hip like thick-rimmed black glasses and fixies. The minister seemed to make some good points (I guess slurpees weren’t my only thoughts).
This is beginning to be long, drawn out and a bit awkward, like after church conversations (Hey-OH), so I will do my best to conclude. Church takes practice and discipline, if you want to get much out of it. By much I’m speaking more spiritual than social. Over the past few months my thoughts have become somewhat free-range and are still un-used to a leash. I would be remiss of me to blame that on a particular service or sermon, as I have in the past. Now, as it nears noon, my thoughts return to slurpees and I must sign off with this blessing:
May the God of slurpees and stained glass
Cast out every misplaced thought
And give us a spirit of comfort and fellowship
In the midst of the peculiarities
In His Holy Catholic Church