Walked to church this morning. How I love being able to walk to church!

All Saints Episcopal is another Tybee find where I’ve worshipped often enough that I’m starting to be recognized. Helen+, their rector, was there with her lovely worship presence, and Bishop Shipps, retired Bishop of Georgia, preached a sweet sermon on gratitude and remembering the least among us.

Seated in the row in front of me was a young man who didn’t go up for communion. He told the woman at the end of his row that he wasn’t baptized. Clearly in the worship booklet it invited the non-baptized to come forward with arms crossed for a blessing. We do have an especially open table in the Episcopal church.

I wondered about the presumption of whispering to the young man the words of invitation before I went up to receive communion. But I didn’t.

Deciding to presume, after worship I spoke to him.

Andrew is going to be baptized “some time in Easter”, and no, he didn’t know he could go up for a blessing when all the rest of us went to the communion table. How cool!

I told him that I’d pray for him as he prepared for baptism, especially when we do our Easter baptisms at St Mary’s.

Then I had a lovely, tree-lined, gentle breezed, walk back to my home on Tybee.

Several years ago I got a pedicure on Maundy Thursday. As I recall, a parishioner had given me a gift certificate for a local spa. I had been pondering the Scripture from John that I would be preaching that evening, John’s version of Jesus’ last meal with his disciples before his crucifixion. John has his emphasis on foot washing instead of bread and wine.

“Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table,* took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.” (John 13. 3–5)

As Vivienne cared for my feet that Holy Thursday, I thought about what a loving act it is to care for another’s feet. Feet are lowly in more ways than one, and it takes humility to get eye to toe. The humility goes both ways–giving and receiving.

Jesus continues in St. John’s Gospel;

“So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.” (14, 15)

Today I’m at the Manicured Mermaid on Tybee Island, and Sarah is caring for my feet. I’m thinking again about Jesus and how he cared for his disciples’ feet; how he said we are to do the same for others.

This Lenten Saturday I’m having Maundy Thursday thoughts. How can I serve in such a loving, humble way as Christ did so easily and freely with those he loved?

Tomorrow we’ll hear a Gospel about how lovingly and humbly Jesus received the care of a woman who extravagantly anointed his feet with costly perfumed oil.

Was Jesus’ servant care with his disciples inspired by this woman? Is this why he said, “Wherever the gospel Is preached it will be in remembrance of her?”

Today was a lolling kind of day.

Coffee, prayers, and reading for starters.

Discovery of a real coffee house here on Tybee after all these years–cappuccinos and knitting for a midday coffee break.

Another Tybee first: a wonderful labyrinth created from old sea rope and shells, with a thick pad of pine needles to cushion each prayerful step.

Walk to the beach for more walking and water coloring.

Vacation dinner of burger and fries sitting outside.

Vesper light of yet another wonderful sunset over the marsh.

Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping, that awake we may watch with Christ, and asleep we may rest in peace.

A friend noted that I hadn’t blogged since Valentine’s Day–which was also the second day in Lent. That’s pretty much a comment on my Lenten disciplines.

I grew up in the Southern Baptist tradition, and while, as a result, tithing comes like breathing to me, Lenten practices are always a stretch.

I’ve decided that my wilderness this Lent is cherishing the moments of quiet in the midst of the busiest Lent I’ve ever had. For most, giving up the busyness is part of their Lenten practice; I know most years it had been that way for me. But a Lenten aha for me this year is that the busyness is my Lenten wilderness. How do I keep God at my center while the world whirls and whirls?

For ten years, I’ve traveled in Lent to Tybee Island, Georgia, a few miles outside of Savannah. This is a largely residential beach community; there’s little here to attract youth on Spring Break, which makes it perfect for me. Over halfway through Lent, I’m stopping to catch my breath, which may mean, actually, the Breath of God.

The locals call the slower pace of this island community, Tybee Time. For me, this year, Tybee Time may be another name for remembering to stop long enough to behold our God who is already waiting with arms open wide.

Tybee Time.