This morning our vicar came to bring us 'Home Communion' - the first time we have taken part in a service of Holy Communion since March 2020.
He's a good friend of ours and we have known him and the family since the 1990s when we joined our church. It's strange, thinking back to when the children were young, and our hair was still brown, and none of us wore glasses. Ah memory, memory.
So we sat round the garden table as the sun slowly warmed through the clouds. We started with tea, or coffee, and ginger biscuits made yesterday, catching up on church and family news. Then we pushed the teapot and mugs to one side, and brushed the biscuit crumbs off the table and continued seamlessly in the church service, complete with Bible reading (John chapter 14) and even a 'sermon' - if you could call it that, a few comments on the words.
In the spaces between the prayers the breeze fluttered the table cloth, the glowing colours of the tulips and daffodils and the birdsong added to the sense of peace. A special moment, worth waiting for.
In the past I always felt that a Sunday morning church service was incomplete without Communion being a part of it. Now, having waited so long, the experience seemed fresh and new, like the very first time over fifty years ago.
I didn't take photographs. But you can see the biscuits;
There are only a few windows left to open on the calendar.
We added hot cross buns and mini Easter eggs to this week's on-line order, and they arrived this morning. As did also an extra half-order due to a mix up. Our mix-up. We usually have next week's date booked and secured with a minimum order, and then go through adding and deleting as necessary, but if there are too many distraction during this process things can go wrong. So our fridge and freezer are overloaded with a week and a half's worth of food, and we sent our vicar on his way with our thanks, and some tomatoes, some lettuce and a pizza.