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Ë®¹ûÊÓƵbodies - The church of my childhood

By Rita Friesen

The Neepawa Banner

Several weeks ago I took the opportunity to attend a Sunday morning worship service in the church of my childhood. My sister knew of my plans to be present but no other family members were aware of my coming. 

Things have changed, there as everywhere. There is no choir, a group of song leaders suffices. There is no choir loft, but a few significant spiritual symbols adorn the front walls. One huge change, a lovely young woman is one of the team of pastors. I love the fact that both team leaders had their early years in this very community. So much for ‘no man is a prophet in his own country!’ Another huge change is that Sunday School follows the worship service. Back in my time, the children participated in the opening portion of the service and then went to class, or, at one time, Sunday School preceded the hour of worship. So now, for those who do not wish to attend a study time, church is all done at eleven and they head for the coffee shop.

 Knowing the coffee shop/brunch system I excused myself from the study time and headed out to spend time with in-laws while my sister taught her class of young ones. Over a cup of coffee I caught up with extended family matters. They worry about me, well, they would call it ‘being concerned’, but I make the effort to include them in the news of my joys and accomplishments. They shared my excitement over my upcoming course and I expressed my delight in being asked to officiate at a wedding. One sister-in-law, my security blanket for all extended family gatherings, knows me well and loves me anyway. She opening asked, ‘so, it’s a man and woman that are getting married?’ I assured her, gleefully that it was. Leaving the restaurant to join my sister for lunch I met another one of my beloved’s sister-in-laws, well that rather makes her one of mine, but I find it difficult to remember that! As we did a quick catch up I shared the same information. And I had the exact same response. Right of the hop she wanted to know if the couple I was marrying was a man and a woman. Made me realise that the family recognises me as an advocate and an ally! 

 Over lunch my sister and I remarked on the family in the row ahead of us. First one in was a brother whose wife passed away last year, next slid in the sister whose husband died several years ago. And to fill the family pew was the other brother and his wife. My sister, with some longing in her voice, wondered if there would ever be a time when all of her children would be sitting together in church. I assured the day would come, but she wouldn’t see it. They would all be there for her funeral! And we chuckled a knowing chuckle.