A Good Spirit
I spend a good deal of time in Charleston, South Carolina. My cowboy is down there so I make that trip on a fairly regular basis.
There are some exceptionally lovely roads there, especially Highway 61. Spanish moss hangs on the trees as it sways in the gently breezes over the two lane path towards Summerville. There’s not much room for error in driving that road. The hardwoods are close to the pavement and there is little sunshine coming through the limbs and leaves that hang there.
One of the traditions I love to participate in with Steve is to go to church early on Sunday morning. He belongs to a Catholic Church right off Highway 61. It’s a beautiful building but, as with most churches, it’s what’s inside that is the most breathtaking.
The stained glass windows and the peaceful atmosphere welcomes you as a place to go for peace and reflection.
Not being Catholic myself, there are several things I’ve had to get use to.
The order of service has taken me months learn. It’s not that what is in the order of worship is much different than what I’m use to in the churches I’ve been a part of before. The songs are often ones I know and I found myself even singing a song the other day where I knew all the words to all the verses.
It’s that they jump over other pages to get to the one they will use.
Steve’s mother belongs to this church as well. When I sit by her she patiently shows me the page we’re on when I get lost. Steve isn’t much help as he prefers to worship by not following along in the book…just looking and reflecting.
The other thing I am not use to is not being invited to the table for communion.
Communion has been – and will continue to be – an important part of my life. Having grown up Southern Baptist, been a Methodist Minister’s wife, and become a Presbyterian Elder, communion was and is a significant part of who I am. It bothers me that I can not take communion with them, but I respect their faith and want to make sure I don’t do anything that is not right there. Since I do not see myself becoming Catholic, I’ll just have to get use to it.
I can still worship there and really appreciate being a part of the service on those Sundays.
One of the highlights of the week is when I get to hear Father Gab’s homily. That, for those of you who don’t know the term, is his sermon. He keeps it short and sweet, but almost always leaves me with a thought I can take as I leave.
This past Sunday he talked about Peter Ustinov, a British actor and author. Peter has written a number of books…all of which are entertaining and lively.
Father Gab told the story that Peter was invited to give a talk for the graduation ceremony at a college. When he arrived, he was given some background of the graduating class. It was a small group, and even smaller given that two of the class had failed their exams and were not going to graduate.
As Peter reached the stage and began his well planned speech, he suddenly stopped in the middle of it and began to speak from the heart.
For anyone who may have known Peter well, they would have realized that was not unusual. He had been encouraged in his early boarding school years to be an independent and individual spirit and so he was.
Peter explained that there were two in the class who had failed and that, if he was attending that college, there would likely have been three as he could have easily fallen among those ranks. He went on to say that there will be times in life when one experiences failure. That these two had simply found that time to be now but that they should not let that deter them from becoming what they were intended to become.
What a spirit, I thought to myself as Father Gab continued. Yes, if we bowed to our failures or shortcomings, we could all easily fall into that rank as well. Peter took the opportunity to use the failures as an example to show that we all have the potential to make a difference in the world…even if we fail. Indeed, failure helps us to grow stronger and more resilient.
My wish for you today is that you have the chance to fail and that you always learn from the experience. The spirit of survival is one of the most important lessons any of us can learn. We can all bounce back from most anything that happens to us as long as we pick ourselves up by our boot straps and dust ourselves off. It’s called a spirit of survival and my wish is that all of us have and utilize that in our lives.
Thanks, Father Gab, for reminding us of that.
~Joellen