Palm Sunday 2010

Palm Sunday

In a former life - this day would be filled with preparations for the next weekend. Rehearsals, organizing, planning and trying to fit in a church service somewhere. It is high church season - sort of like the day before Black Friday for retail.

I remember many years of running around, getting stuff done, training, meeting, hoping, planning and praying.

For the last three years - none of that.

By my choice?
Not at first.

Now?
I'm still working on that.

Given this economy - the likelihood of finding a ministry position is quite unlikely. But it's not like I've tried. The few interviews I have been on haven't gone well - mostly because I am done playing along. I've been honest and upfront on what I believe is truth. I'm bringing my viewpoints on kindness, love, mercy, forgiveness and social justice.

Honestly, I'm okay with I don't get those jobs - I really am.

I can remember a time when not attending a service weekly felt so strange - like waking to realize you misplaced your bellybutton. It was just always there - a part of you.

I can also remember a time when not attending a service weekly brought on deep depression. Similar to realizing that your family celebrated Christmas morning in secret and didn't invite you.

I tried. Oh God knows I tried. I went again and again to different services. Some I actually made it through - tears and all. Others I had to leave because my sobbing was too much for others.

Then I gave myself permission to stop trying so hard. To just take a break. To not need to do something that just plain hurt.

So now I don't feel the guilt or pain. At least not all the time.

But on this day - Palm Sunday - I need to be in a service. I need to feel connected. I need to celebrate the Triumphal Entry and raise my voice.

We were fortunate this year to find a place to be part of a body that didn't really hurt all that much. It didn't feel wrong or strange. We didn't have deep philosophical disagreements with what we heard, we weren't ostracized or manically welcomed by the other attendees. We just were there and it was ok.

So I read the story, heard the words, lifted my voice and said:

"Hosanna!" 

   "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" 

"Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!" 

   "Hosanna in the highest! (Mark 11:9-10)

Then I went home and worshiped the way I have been for the last few years. In my garden, with the Creator I have come to learn doesn't need to be found only in a sanctuary.



Maybe next year things will be different, maybe not. I'm starting to realize I'm okay with that.