After nearly two weeks taking Sabbath at the Rectory, I'm traveling again. Yesterday I drove to my mother's in Chambersville, Texas. It's right outside McKinney, and her mailing address is McKinney. Even though my iPhone local weather thinks I'm in Celina, I know I'm in Chambersville. That's because it's named for my Greatgreatgrandfather Elisha Chambers, who came here from Indiana in 1847. That's a long time in Texas years.
This morning Mother and I went to the local Methodist church. About thirty people gathered for fellowship, singing, and listening to Scripture. The time of prayer was one where we truly shared cares and joys and concerns. The pastor travels between two churches each Sunday morning, and she gave a lovely sermon of honesty and encouragement.
All over the world there are church communities like this one--small only in the world's eyes. The little church was well-cared for--neat and tidy and obviously loved. Each person, including me, a stranger, was met with a warm word and a touch. There were only a handful of children, and all had a place in the worship, too. It was and is the Body of Christ.
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