"Comparisons are odious," as they say. I try to keep this in mind when my mind wants to compare something at the expense of something else. It seems that that way lies unfairness and unhappiness, and nothing good comes from it. Sometimes the mind tries to run away with me, though...
I attended Lessons and Carols at my husband's new Enormous Church last night. I must say that before the service, I spent about 45 minutes lost near the church, in Turtle Creek and Highland Park, where there are Mansions that are in no way "Mc." So I was feeling rather stressed and out of place before I even got there.
The comparisons started early on as I sat, knitting, waiting for the service to begin. It is a well known and usually SRO event...at the Enormous Church nestled just north of Downtown Dallas.
Many of the people who came in were wearing fur coats. I was wearing a leather coat and shoes, so I can't say much; but fur doesn't appeal to me. This church is the kind of place where you'd be likely to see furs. Old money.
I didn't feel very belong-y. I said, "Lord, let it be to me according to thy Word." I breathed.
The lectors for the traditional Nine Lessons might all have been members of that church - I do not know. Interestingly, though, their job titles were listed by their names in the program. So while five were prominent members of the church (or in one case a diocesan bishop), the others were VIP's from the community and school board and another Local Big Church. And of course The Female US Senator from Texas.
I pondered whether we should list, on my own church's Lessons and Carols program next year, people's job titles. They are our regular Sunday lectors. "So and So, Escrow Officer." "So and So, Montessori Teacher." "So and So, Retired Military Officer."
Do you hear the snark? I breathed. I tried not to let it take me over.
The church got more and more full. A few people came in and filled in the pew, empty but for me, saving seats for their 17 friends. It was a little squishy but it was ok. I stopped knitting at that point. They introduced themselves to me, which I greatly appreciated.
I said, "Lord, please let me hear what you have for me to hear. Shut up my monkey mind and make the snark to cease. Please."
Right before the service started, a chorister came and asked the nice couple next to me if her son (about 6) could sit with them (they are his godparents). "He doesn't want to go to the nursery...he wants to hear the music!" she said. "I'm sure he'll be okay - he seems very mellow." One more person in the pew...
The little boy crawled across them to sit next to me - as close to the aisle as he could get. He wanted to see his mom! I introduced myself to him (his name was Benjamin) and talked a little bit. We had on matchy red cotton sweaters. He was shy of a strange person as you would expect but responded to me.
The service started. Benjamin did very well.
And then during one of the readings, I felt his head hit my shoulder. He was asleep.
For the next several readings, carols, and congregational hymns, I sat still so as not to wake him up. The godparents apologized. I said, "no problem!" They said, "are you sure!?" "I'm sure," I said.
Benjamin gave me a gift that eased my breathing, banished the snark. I sat still, with his warm breath on my shoulder and realized that it was okay. I was a person, and all of these people were persons, and at the root we were all sleepy 6-year-olds in need of a shoulder to nap on.
Eventually he woke up, and seemed embarrassed to have slept on a stranger. He fought valiantly to stay awake through the rest of the service. I thanked him for sitting with me after it was over. A little boy in a red sweater helped me hear God's word for me.
There was a reception afterward, with wine, smoked salmon, shrimp, hams. Enormous Church does things differently than mine. They have a different scale, set of expectations, different people who move in different circles. They are lovely people. They are just people. And comparisons: are odious.
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