Maundy Thursday at Holy Cross

Holy Thursday at Holy Cross was a first person observation of the Last Supper. "Remember When..." P. Jim was eloquent, he sang, his wife sat beside us, his teen aged boys were friendly. M. picked me up and was weepy on the way home. Because the soloist moved us to tears, because it took us so long to make the change. Because we are so thankful to have a shepherding pastor again. She has made the move and we will after Easter.

How strange it is to go to both churches. I went to the noon service at St. Tim's and helped clear communion and "made the house" for tonight. Making the house isn't what you might think. It is setting up the chalace with the corporal, the burse and all of that on the altar. It isn't as easy as you might think.

K. is experimenting makeing bread for communion. She thought it was too crumby this noon. She is going to have her confirmatin guide group of girls learn to do it next year as thier service project. That is a lot of bread baking on a weekly basis. Because of the loaves the Priest Host is no longer used.

I love church talk. Full and complete Liturgy is a relief after leaning toward being neither fish nor fowl. Maybe going to two churches is neither fish nor fowl. Going twice today can't be as sinful as wanting to tell Pastor F. that Henri Nouwen is dead. How can you quote someone like they were still alive when they are not? I get an Henri Nouwen daily devotion. I keep him alive by reading him, not by pretending he is still alive.

It is the devil in the darned details again. I always have one foot in hell.