The times they are a-changing....
Our Alameda church has been open for services since August 1. I didn't realize how much I missed the music (organist, soloist) and seeing the members/attendees! We have a Sunday service and Sunday School, and a Wednesday evening meeting that also features music and testimonies of healing.
And then I started crying during one of the hymns. (Note to self - you are not the tough old broad that you think you are,)
Yep, we keep the distance, wear masks, and our church custodian continues to make the place super-clean.
We have two Readers (one who reads from the King James Version of the Bible, and the other from our textbook, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, by Mary Baker Eddy.) Both of our readers are currently women and do a terrific job! They did really well under the Covid restrictions, at first via conference call (phone), and then via Zoom.
Back, way back, in the day, I was elected Second Reader. We wore 'formals' at that time. One of the older women members bought them for me. Often there would be one man (member) and a lady (member) as Readers.
I remembered this last Sunday when our Readers both wore pants. I imagine the ladies (who have been long gone) would have rolled over in their graves (but I imagine most of them would have had an urn with their ashes inside.) Those were not the good ol' days. They were just days.
But I was a new kid on the block. Literally. Carl and I lived at the end of the block at 2105 Central Ave. The church is at 2164 Central Ave.
Carl usually raced on sailboats whenever he could and that would be most weekends. He came to Alameda because he was hired by Gary Mull, a Naval Architect. He just let me do my thing. However, he became a member of our church.
Jumping ahead in time, in my small world, I will see him once I leave this earth. And we will have a lot to say to each other..but maybe not, He was a man who didn't rattle on and on. But he was wonderful to me and a great dad to our kids.
By the way...have you ever tried to sing with your mask on? That's torture.
Live richly, marilyn