This morning Mother and I went to the local Methodist church. About thirty people gathered for fellowship, singing, and listening to Scripture. The time of prayer was one where we truly shared cares and joys and concerns. The pastor travels between two churches each Sunday morning, and she gave a lovely sermon of honesty and encouragement.

All over the world there are church communities like this one–small only in the world’s eyes. The little church was well-cared for–neat and tidy and obviously loved. Each person, including me, a stranger, was met with a warm word and a touch. There were only a handful of children, and all had a place in the worship, too. It was and is the Body of Christ.

I’m home, and for one delicious week I’ve kept Sabbath at home. The lovely surprise has been each time I remembered that I have no place I have or need to be.

Like yesterday. I took a walk with a friend. Our conversation was still going strong when we came to the end of our three turns around the walking path. Did I have time to walk around again?
Did I? I did.

Walking daily has been part of my Sabbatical rule of life. Near my house is a no longer new walking trail along the bayou. I’ve never made time to explore it, but now I have the gift of time. I began my exploration earlier this week. As I walked this new trail, this was the Scripture I contemplated:

Thus says the Lord:
Stand at the crossroads, and look,
and ask for the ancient paths,
where the good way lies; and walk in it,
and find rest for your souls.

For the two weeks we were in Scotland and England, we saw almost no rain–it waited until the final drive to the airport. It feels like grace.

For the past six weeks I have traveled to some of the most extraordinary and inspiring places on earth. My head and heart are full.

Now quotidian time begins. Tomorrow I begin to Sabbath at home for a while. My next trip will most likely be to Oregon for Jonas’ shower.

I need time to put all of my thoughts in order. My photos of the Holy Land will arrive around the first of November via a friend of my brother’s who will pick up my no longer lost camera in Tel Aviv and deliver it to Houston.

As I begin the second of my three flights home, I am filled with peace and gratitude. Even with four hours sleep!

When the tide turns and the causeway from Holy Island to the mainland is opened soon, I’ll leave this beautiful place and begin the long journey back to Houston.

We’ve been doing all of our worship at St. Mary’s seated in choir, that is facing one another. In the pew there are cards with a blessing for those leaving the island; those leaving the island are encouraged to request the blessing at their final service.

Last night after Evening Prayer (which ended outside overlooking St. Cuthbert’s Island while we prayed prayers in honour of him), I let the Vicar know that today would be our final time to join them for worship. At The Peace this morning he asked if we still wanted the blessing. I certainly did!

At the close of the service he invited my friend and me up for our blessing. He also invited anyone else who was taking leave. Another man came forward. My friend and I smiled because our blessing allowed another to be blessed, too. God’s abundance for sure.

Here are the words of St. Mary the Virgin parish’s blessing:

To the prayers of the island saints we commend you.
May God’s angels watch round you to protect you.
May the Holy Spirit guide and strengthen you for all that lies ahead.
May Christ Jesus befriend you with his compassion and peace.

May the Lord be a bright light before us.
Be a guiding star above us.
Be a smooth path beneath us.
And the blessing of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit be with you this day and always.

Go in the peace of Christ:
Thanks be to God.