The Altar

I admit it. I almost fell for it – that small voice that tries to convince you that not much has changed. It didn’t dawn on me until I was on my way home from an early evening service. I was asked “How are you?” I replied “same stuff different day.” In my defense I was tired (not the best excuse). However, the service went really well and I left slightly energized because I was going home to be with my family to celebrate my brother’s birthday. On the drive home it hit me – that question about how I was doing was an altar question, an opportunity to pause, take a couple of deep breaths and be thankful for the genuineness of the individual to care enough to ask the question. Upon further reflection, I felt really bad when I realized that the day hadn’t been the same at all. When in the weariness of life and we are just going through, we don’t have to find an altar – the altar comes to us. At the moment of encountering that question it may have been a different day, but certainly not the same stuff because in the form of a question, the day came with a gentle reminder of love: that thing that shows up when you least expect it, that something which happens when you need it the most.

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