I wrote yesterday about the waiting on the Fool’s Bench at Easter.
As it turned out, I didn’t sit. I stood near the door to church in the Great Room, craning my neck, looking over the shoulder of anyone I was talking to, hoping to see the shaved bald head of my next-door-neighbor and his blond wife walk in.
I prayed and prayed. I saved seats at two (count ’em, two!) services, which did NOT endear me to those who did come and were tackling others for a spot, practically paying hard cash money so they could sit inside the sanctuary instead of in the overflow rooms.
It didn’t happen. Yes, the other friend did show at an earlier service and I pray that she felt totally hogswaggled by the enormity of God’s love for her, but it’s hard not to focus on the ones who didn’t come. 
I’ve been thinking about them…All the friends and neighbors and co-workers and prodigal family members you invited to church this Sunday. Or last. Or any one of a bazillion times. Continue reading
