The toddler in the tired mother's arms squirmed with discontent. They'd been up through the night and both were just had it. The Mum's eyes dreary with the endlessness of care for little ones. The older lady stood as steady as she might. Her legs not so good as they once were. Age was catching up to her, and what had once been strong within her, was now shifting. |
The proud Grandfather, holding the joyous news of a new grandchild born through the night, beaming with deep thankfulness for life new and miraculous as his son welcomed in the responsibility of parenthood.
The wife quietly wiping away a tear, as she thought of her husband no longer standing alongside her. Grief swept reality of recent loss residing in her heart.
The curious child, with wonder and awe, ready to grasp the tangible elements of juice and bread, to taste it with their tongue, to squeeze it to the nth degree in their fingers and wrap themselves around the completeness of the strange gift before them.
The older gentlemen had been struggling off and on for many years. Some days were better than others. His family had walked away from him, he had left his home country. Mental health challenges were his constant badge. This week had been hard, his triggers were real and present. He was dressed, perhaps not well, but he was dressed and that was celebrated. His eyes closed as the words washed over him. May tomorrow be a bit better.
The minister, up all night putting the finishing touches on the service. The prayers, the power point, the words between and the message. A full and tiring week with much admin, pastoral care, demand from the wider church, here bringing and holding the words of community, while worrying about their own family . . . . .
Come to the table, Christ's table. Here all are welcomed, all are fed. Here all may know grace, healing, love, and hope. Here all stories come. . . . .God's story and our many human stories. Here in the breaking of bread . . . . .