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Category: Sunday Morning

Audience?

CYI Memorial Park (http---instagr.am-p-KRNU0Pnx2F-)

I used to write for an audience, and I still consider — usually — the weight and effect of each word. But more often than not, I write for myself: to calm down, to remember, to clarify elusive thought, to analyze my anger, to dream.

I write an essay during church, using the scripture or song as composition prompt. I scribble notes on a pad while cooking, while reading, when I wake in the middle of the night. (One sheet of yellow paper on the floor beneath my bed holds a single line, describing the work of a medical researcher, pulling away a layer of skin, trying to find the face of God. I don’t know where it came from or when. But I recognize the handwriting as my own.)

Even now, as I type, I look at the clock and realize I’ve been at this for close to an hour.

And I wonder, will anybody read this?

Does it matter?

pulling away a layer of skin, trying to find the face of God

Parallel Play

Acrostic (http---instagr.am-p-KN5iJYnx2g-)

In worship, Sunday morning, I realized that I like these people, but we don’t have much in common. We stumble through each song. We have trouble getting along so much of the time. There are so many negative feelings that I associate with this group. But washing over it all, I feel love. Inexplicably, I do love them.

In this love, however, I continue to experience frustration as well. 1) It seems we are more interested in programs than people. 2) There is so little opportunity for communion with each other as a part of our worship. 3) Physically, all our attention is on the platform. We are so separated.

It seems we are more interested in programs than people.

PO Box 751 . Newberg OR 97132-0751