Well, it’s Holy Week again. And once again, I’m NOT holy.

So thank goodness for my church, which still lets me in along with a bunch of other sinners. Tonight was our Maundy Thursday service (if you’ve never participated, it’s a celebration of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples), and I baked some pies to bring to the covered dish supper. I chose Apple Pie and Pumpkin Pie, two simple, traditional pies–although, call me a big liberal for making pumpkin pie in the spring instead of at Thanksgiving–again…big sinner. I even got to take them to church in the cool pie basket I got from friends this past Christmas. Perfect gift.

Anyway, I chose two very recognizable pies because if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a bunch of church folks standing around at a dessert table poking at stuff trying to figure out what it is…

“Myrtle, do you think there’s pecans in this? I hope not. They give me hives…”

“What is this pink stuff–I hate coconut–is there coconut in here?”

 

I just didn’t want to hear it. So I made apple and pumpkin, and they got eaten all up. Along with a bunch of other AWESOME food. Man, those people can cook. I made an embarrassing, towering- casserole -of -church- food -deliciousness on my plate and declared to others at my table,

“It’d be rude not to try everyone’s, right?”

The meal was really great, and after supper, we transitioned into a really nice communion service. The pastor spoke for a bit, and then we all had communion. It was cool, because each person got to offer bread and juice (sorry, Catholic friends, just juice) to their neighbor and say, “This is the body of Christ, broken for you,” and then “This is the blood of Christ, shed for you.”

Nothing fancy. No one practiced or trained. Just friends and neighbors and families, celebrating what Easter is really about. Such a blessing.

I looked around the room as this was going on. Husbands served wives. Old folks served young ones. Friends served staff members. Children served parents. And special to me–my mom served my son. I won’t soon forget it. The whole thing reminded me of this:

When we commune with one another, we are communing with Christ.

At the end of the service, we all sang this old favorite hymn. Hardly anyone needed the words, and the harmonies were sweet indeed.

There’s a sweet, sweet, Spirit in this place

And I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord

There are sweet expressions on each face

And I know they feel the presence of the Lord

Sweet, Holy Spirit

Sweet, Heavenly Dove

Stay right here with us, filling us with Your love

And for these blessings, we lift our hearts in praise

Without a doubt we’ll know that we have been revived

When we shall leave this place.

 

Yes. A Sweet, Sweet Spirit.