This is a story of a petite dirty-blond haired German woman
I sat in John Calvin's church; in a foreign land with a language I could not speak. Alone in a pew, I was resting my feet from a day of walking the city. A few feet away was "Calvin's chair", which looked even more uncomfortable. The church was empty and hollow sounding, apart from the shuffle of an occasional tourist trying to be reverential without really knowing why (apart from the large American man who unselfconsciously marched around with the longest selfie-stick I've seen, taking photos of himself in front of the pulpit, organ, stained glass window ... everything he thought significant ... although completely missing Calvin's chair). There were moments of quiet between the interruptions of tourists when the only sound was the crack of old wood joints as I shifted in the pew. Into this silence stepped a petite, dirty-blond haired German woman, followed soon by what I presumed was her husband. The young couple walked quietly together down the aisle and, despite it being a protestant church, she crossed herself and dipped her head as she faced the front. Then with her husband slipped into the fourth pew from the front on the right hand side. After a minute of sitting in silence she leaned forward in prayer, resting her head in her hands against the pew in front. The man sat alongside, and cynic that I am, I presumed he was humouring her and waiting patiently until she was done. I said a quick prayer "Lord may your Spirit meet with her as she seeks you, and give him patience not to interrupt her". But then he surprised me as he too bent forward and went down on his knees. After a few minutes he sat again and bowed his head like his wife as they continued their prayers. They stayed like that for almost 10 minutes, heads bowed in earnest prayer. She reminded me of a friend back home, of similar diminutive build, blond, and German heritage, and living through situations in need of prayer. So I prayed for the couple across the aisle, and I prayed for my friend and her situations back home. Finally they sat back, then stood and stepped into the aisle where they both genuflected deeply, crossed themselves, and smiled.
1 Comment
This was so beautiful. I'll admit that when I receive your Blog posts in my email folder I'm always a bit daunted. You are so introspective and your blog is certainly not one that can be read and cast aside. It requires the attention it so greatly deserves. But I do read. And this post was especially lovely. Your words painted the picture so vividly.
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Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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