The day dawned bright and clear. Early morning crispness and gusty Santa Anas giving way to warmth we haven’t had in recent weeks. Gentle breezes. Some hummingbirds and butterflies. The house quickly filled with movement as Carol, Jack, Pam, Janet, and Mary arose, grabbed coffee and yogurt and began the chatter and laughter that is their nature. Later, Mary’s son Lene and our sons Ross and Lee made it a full house. In the meantime, I received a very nice visit from brother Grant, who tried to figure out how we shoehorned everyone in. He and I had a long and good conversation about his work envisioning the future of education in our country. He plans to start his third book soon and has graciously asked for my input.

Rewinding the tape to about 4am and lying awake … my first thoughts going to dear friend Shannon. For those of you who do not know her, Shannon faithfully leads our “Little Band of Believers,” the name we call our weekly Friday morning prayer/worship group that began over two years ago with Susan’s diagnosis of a brain tumor. Shannon’s spirit and love always radiate beautifully and she is a rock upon which we’ve built Team Susan that now spreads outwards as was intended two millennia ago. Shannon received some distressing news about her health late Friday, which followed some symptoms she shared with us earlier that day. We await clarification from new doctors early in the week. Moments are fragile things and we need to grasp them fully. Whether you know Shannon or not, please pray for her and her family. People wonder what church is. Church gets a bad name in some quarters and deservedly so. Friday morning is an example of church. The way church is designed to be. In that sense, I belong to six churches, in community with others, woven into my fabric of life, one of which has a building. Each one is special in its own way. What a blessing Friday morning is. We love you, Shannon!

Rewinding even further and speaking of another church … Yesterday afternoon I spent a couple of hours immersed in the Emmaus Community, which was conducting its third of four full days of an experience for some 30 senior citizens. Tough to find a more loving place than an Emmaus event. Several dozen of us spent about an hour worshipping and praying individually for those going through the weekend, in another place on the campus. Then we briefly joined the larger group in a beautiful ceremony, coming together afterwards for a surprise laying of hands on someone they cared for. Namely, me. Three dozen sets of hands and deep prayer. Words of love and healing. Yes, tears flowed but, for me, they were tears of joy to be so embraced and lifted up. Thank you, Emmaus!

Tomorrow, most of us will go to Sunday worship at our formal church in Rancho Bernardo. We will join with many hundreds of others who dedicate a piece of the weekend to coming together in fellowship to let the truths contained in words and music envelop us and help us navigate the river I spoke of yesterday. Perhaps I’ll talk more about this thing called church another day. I believe it is cause of way too much that is wrong with our world while it is cause for so much that is right.

But, I’ll tell you something about tomorrow. You see, once a month in the particular denomination of the Christian faith we’re currently associated with, we celebrate communion. Some denominations, namely Catholics and Episcopalians, among others, celebrate communion weekly. Others do it less frequently than we or not at all. Even in my decades of struggle with faith, communion held some pull. Setting aside theological interpretations of what exactly it is, it definitely is one of the great symbols for those who follow Jesus.

Communion is our connection to Jesus at his most fundamental level. It is our connection to who he was and what he meant. It is the beautiful, deep, resonate last act he chose to share with his followers. It was the summation of his ministry just before dying. It is a call to the deepest places within us. A reminder that this life is hardly as it may seem. That we need to be in touch with those deep places, where brokenness and salvation go hand in glove.

Some years ago, Diane was ordained as a deacon and I was ordained as an elder. Those are church terms that neither Diane or I pay too much attention to. Aside from exercising some responsibility for facilitating the work of our large congregation, this allows us to serve communion. We’ve been doing that for a number of years now. For us, that means, after the pastor briefly retells the story of the Last Supper and blesses the bread and wine, Diane and I walk forward to receive the platters. Lines form and I dispense the bread, while Diane dispenses the wine (juice), with words as to their meaning. For us, this is incredibly special. All of these people. Young, old, of all ethnicities, partaking in an act that I believe transcends symbolism, and connects billions of people through the ages. I sometimes just shake my head that I have a chance to do this thing.

Tomorrow afternoon, everyone leaves and Diane and I return to life with the two of us for now. A life which we love. We look forward to joining former student, Sally, and her mother, Konnie, for dinner tomorrow night. We also look forward with anticipation to Tuesday afternoon with the next doctor. We are so grateful for all of you. As you pray and support us, please let us know how we can pray for and support you.