Walking into the wind I felt the stinging sensation of it’s gusts on my face. I pulled my coat tighter around my neck and my hood over my head. I love wind, but this is crazy. Single digit temperatures in March and a nor ‘eastern on its way, I feel the weariness of it all mixed with contempt as I enter the church. Yes, I'm a sinner going to church. I would rather be home, but my friend is playing her bagpipes for the offering. As much as I dislike the instrument, I love her and Amazing Grace, so I sit down beside her. And yes, the building is cold.
Almost immediately I begin to relax. It is where I want to be and who I want to be with. When she plays I close my eyes and let the song minister in spite of the underlying drone of the bag pushing out it’s air. After, she is concerned that I am okay. I think she is surprised I sat up front with her and not in the back row ready to bolt. “yes”, I replied. “I like my coffee stronger than I used to, but it took small doses over many years”. I guess I was saying there is still hope.
The abandonment of ourselves in small decisions to bless others reap a greater contentment on our souls.