It’s a time for sad songs, sadder stories, and silence. As I walked with my friend up the mountain path, the damp, frozen ground became pristine white with trees raising boughs barren of Spring leaves in eternal worship to our Creator.
In between pushing oxygen out into the cold air, audible gasps when one of us would step wrong on the snow and nearly slide down the hill to the stream below, and laughter, we confided in each other.
Hurt. Anguish. Joy.
The church is made up of this: people getting together, not where there are programs, but when there is silence we don’t need to fill; a safe place to confide, to laugh, and an allowance of impulsive stops for coffee or tea.
Gatherings don’t need to be programmed. They just need at least two people and grace to move things from your to-do list to another hour or day. Making room to meet with the church body in places like this or for coffee or tea, for conversation, is priceless. It’s how you build a church.
And it exists!