I wasn’t at church this morning. It was the first Sunday of the month, and that usually means I have to miss. I think everyone’s got used to that.
Last week I missed as well because Ray’s pen friend came with his family to visit from France. It was a bit of a frantic affair to put together, but with the generous help of Tony and Dorothy, we managed to make them comfortable and have a good time.
And was I there the week before that? I can’t remember back that far without looking at my diary.
But I have been in the church. Elena and I came by one day to have a picnic lunch, and made teas for Maggie and Andrew and Bethan, who were getting the garden ready for the wedding.
And I had a meeting with Sue from Hope, and Angela from the Abbey, while Adrian and Paul climbed ladders and looked at the plaster.
And also: we used the garden for Elena’s birthday party, and invited fifteen of her friends and their parents to our church. Some of them had been there for Little Acorns. Some hadn’t.
The point is, though, it felt like church all the way along. I may have missed Sundays, but I was able to welcome people from outside into our building, and know I had the open arms of all our congregation behind me.
A friend from St Cuthbert’s (where we are on the first Sundays) was there at the party, and she commented how warm and welcoming the building was, that it felt like church even though it wasn’t a service.
The balloons and bunting may have helped with the celebration atmosphere , but I like what she said. The welcome I got from Little Acorns – the fact WBC did Little Acorns at all – was what brought me here in the first place. I’m really happy I had opportunity in the past few weeks to see again that it still feels that way to others.