April 2, 2007
The day has been sunny and pleasant. A soft
breeze across our hill side is heavy with the fragrance of blooming fruit
trees. Now the sudden cool of an Oklahoma evening wrapped itself around us.
We hurry out the door in our Sunday duds that were remnants of better times
and no one seemed to complain. Was this a speaking of maturity something
like the whisper of silk clothing blowing in the wind? Youth and vanity were
apparently no longer the lance of purpose for our gathering ourselves
together with mutual believers to remember the memorial of our Savior’s
death and resurrection.
The chugging of the car with its hit and miss
performance was enough to distract a saint and I was almost in tears before
we finally arrived at our place of worship which was quite on the other side
of town. Times and changes were upon all of civilization and we were
recipients of this lifestyle.
Early on the establishments of buildings were
of micro size to accommodate a small number of worshipers in one
congregation. Growth gave no appreciation for the pioneer days when
everything was close, comfortable and united giving greater knowledge of one
another’s trials, happy moments, or anything tied to life and living.
This evening saw a packed building of enough
numbers to serve at least two hundred worshipers. There were bright, clean
little girls in fluffy spring dresses, young mothers with sweet babies
draped over their
shoulders and friends we knew from our own youth.
The speaker was a maturing gentleman I
remembered as a sweet boy with a mischievous grin and way. This determined
gentleman looking back out at the audience was a far cry from the child I
had in my mind. He spoke gently and echoed our thoughts of reverence and
thankfulness for a Savior who had given his life for us who were imperfect
and somehow it brought peace to all of us.
The wine passed before us and the bloom of
its fragrance was indeed a symbol of Greater forces. Pieces of the
unleavened bread spoke as well of deeper meaning while our own bodies
struggle through every challenge.
Later in the parking lot of Wendy’s my
daughter Rhonda commented.
“Well, Mom, we made if for one more year.”