And now it has been almost eight years since I wrote in this blog. We have lived through a global pandemic. The kids are all adults, living on their own. Three of them don't go to church. One goes to the Unitarian church. Of the three who don't go to church, two are matter-of-fact and one is downright ugly sometimes. But God has no grandchildren. They're adults. I did my best. It's up to Him.
As for me, I go back and forth between believing and not believing. It makes no sense to believe, and yet sometimes I feel it. But I go to church anyway because I like it and I like the community. I am definitely no longer Roman Catholic and quite assuredly Episcopalian. In fact, I'm being received into the church next month, in spite of the fact that sometimes I believe and sometimes I don't.
Let's see:
1) I am the head of the lay eucharistic ministers for our church.
2) I am on a cooking team for our Wednesday night suppers.
3) I am a food shopper for our grab-a-bag ministry.
It seems all of my ministries involve feeding people, whether literally or symbolically. That is not surprising. Food is love.
