Yesterday was Communion Sunday. First the bread, then the wine. (Actually, wine is in the inner circle of cups, grape juice in the cups around the edge. I always take grape juice. After all, I have to drive home. :-)) After I had spent an appropriate amount of time engaged in personal reflection, I sat there holding the little plastic cup and my mind began to wander. Two thoughts occurred to me.
First, I thought about how the cups are plastic and disposable. The only maintainance involves collecting all the little guys from the backs of the pews after the service and throwing them away. (An online search reveals you can even buy them pre-filled, like the creamers at a restaurant.)
But in the olden days, those babies were glass, and they all had to be hand-washed. Every communion service was followed by a couple of people (it’s probably fair to say ladies) in the kitchen washing a couple hundred teensy communion cups in a sink filled with hot soapy water. One of the many chores in the church filled by unsung heroes.
While it may be tough going finding someone to sign up for the duty, the reality is that it may not be such dreadful task at all. Little obscure moments that are an opportunity to form friendships, learn about the church, develop a sense of belonging, enjoy camaraderie. An opportunity disguised as a chore.
Second, I thought about the doll house I’m making. It’s too early for me to be in full “furnish the doll house” mode. But as I looked at the plastic cup, I wondered if it could be incorporated in my decorating scheme. A vase? An umbrella stand? Maybe I should hit a few other pews and take home a collection. It’s a little tape that plays over and over in the back of my mind. Would this item or that have a second life in my miniature masterpiece?
It runs concurrently with the tape that asks “Is this something I could write a blog entry about?” Sometimes—perhaps this is one of them—that answer should be “no” but I mistakenly think “yes.”