In Remembrance of Me

At the close of the pastor's message Sunday, he came down from the platform and picked up a Communion tray from the table in front of the pulpit. It seemed a little different, with no tray for the bread. Then I saw congregants receiving a tiny cup with what looked like a sealed cover which was being pulled open.

I was even more surprised when the neighbor in front of me showed me how to peel back the cover, to discover a small, white disk. The communion bread! Under that was the cup of the covenant! Tasting the paper-like disk, which dissolved quickly, I thought about the broken crackers that had served as bread forever in our churches past.

We followed the communion ritual, as the words of Jesus were being read, Then He took the cup, and gave thanks, and said, "Take this and divide it among yourselves; for I say to you,  I will  not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes."

And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it and gave it to them, saying, "This is My body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me."

I read a story of a young girl who was so excited about her First Communion. She was nervous as she sat by her father, awaiting the passing of the communion. Finally, her turn came, and her hands shook as she took the cup, only, to her horror, to drop it and spill it all over her special dress.  Looking at her father, she didn't know what to expect. Then he passed his own communion cup to her, enabling his daughter to have her first communion. No doubt she felt God's love for her, even as her own father loved his daughter.

Outdoor Pleasantries

We were having lunch yesterday at our favorite restaurant in historical downtown Jonesboro. Sitting outside under the protection of patio umbrellas, Howard and I had a perfect view of the street and passersby. Others were served in the bricked alley beside the eatery, courtesy of closed doors due to safety precautions.

Across the street was a historical building, a log cabin moved there many years ago and previously frequented by such illuminaries  as Andrew Jackson and other dignitaries of the age. Anyway, the mortared logs and wood steps made a perfect place for picture-taking.

At first, we noticed random couples getting snapshots as they strolled by, then a veritable entourage floated down the slope to the cabin's lawn. Obviously, it was a wedding party, the bride and groom seated smilingly for photos in in their attire, the groom in dignified coat and tie, and the bride in her array.

I couldn't keep my eyes off the lovely frocks the dozen or so attendants were wearing, none of them the same, but all attractive and appropriate for on outside wedding. Ruffled tops, off-the-shoulder designs, long gowns or short skirts, pastel, summery long sleeves--all were eye-catching and fluttering with the soft breezes that had sprung up after an earlier rain.

And suddenly they were gone, in mass strolling up the hill where we had parked our car, near the church where the wedding obviously took place. We finished our lunch and climbed the hill ourselves, riding home with pleasant memories of a beautiful day.