Over the Threshold

Last week I was saying Evensong when I became aware someone had come in. It turned out to be a gentleman of about 40, who was sitting in a pew on his own when I finished. He was Ted, and had come to church because he'd successfully come home from hospital after a medical emergency, and wanted to say thank you. I introduced myself: 'I know who you are, my kids have been through the infant school', he said. Ted made it to the 8am service on Sunday - and, even more to my surprise, came back for the 10am, saying that he was trying to get used to church and how it worked. He stayed for coffee afterwards - I do hope someone spoke to him, as I was dealing with all sorts of things and couldn't. 

Meanwhile, Jessie has been to the church a number of times now. She's a neighbour of Sandra who coordinates so much of our children's activities, and originally attended with her, but now has made it on her own enough to think she might stick. She's been in to coffee-time too, and seems able to have friendly conversations with the folk around her. She's had a tough time with many things to work through, and I'm glad she might think the Church could be part of that. 

Making it through the door of a church when you have no real experience of doing so is a daunting business and I applaud anyone who manages it. It took me, I think, five years between standing in the porch of Christchurch Priory listening to the Tre Ore on Good Friday - hardly the most accessible of services! - to attending the 100th anniversary Mass at St Paul's Kirby Road in Leicester, and a couple of weeks later the Mass for St Lucy's Day at St Mary de Castro in that city on a snowy December night - and, remember, I knew all the stuff before I ever set foot inside a real live church. Up and down and round about, turn to this page, speech and silence, singing at this service but not this one: well done all those souls who make it through, and God bless you!