Sunday mornings at church

Like millions of others in the U.S.,  I spent a few hours today in church.  We had our annual Pancake Breakfast fundraiser -- it's a small church, so no fundraising idea is too normal or too "out there" -- before service.

There were people catching up with each other outside the sanctuary while inside, I was quickly running over the songs in today's service and confirming that I was to help with serving Communion.

In attendance today, like most weeks, were the ever-faithful (week in-week out always there), the once-a-month attendees and those whose absence until today was sorely missed.  We had a teenager in the congregation whose mother was attending a friend's funeral out of state and we had a pair of preschool aged twins fidgeting in the back of the Sanctuary with their parents.

Couples were celebrating their unions, people offered up their prayers for themselves and their loved ones and the sermon, though a little long winded, was pitch-perfect for Pentecost Sunday. We celebrated with a church family member over his introduction today of a new love and, hopefully, helped to lighten the load of another church family member who was laid off two days ago.  He, like what happened with me when I lost my job just before Halloween last year, was inundated after the service with wishes for peace and offers of support.  Ever the honest person (sometimes to a fault), I told him that perhaps I wasn't the best resource to finding a new job quickly; however, I would happily help him out if he needed it.

So, what makes my church so unique?

Nearly everyone who attends is gay or lesbian.  Their sons, daughters, nieces and nephews and wards are everyone's children. Some of the couples were married in the small window offered last year before the passing of Proposition 8, and my heart danced today when a man offered up prayers for his husband's health.

I've witnessed many a child having been raised at my church -- I've been a member over 15 years now.  Every child I've known from the church has grown up perfectly normal. I've celebrated with many a pregnant woman in the church and I'm stunned to see these children now that I once knew before they were born.

Maybe it is just me, but usually my weekly visit to church is hardly worth writing about.  And, maybe that's the point -- a casual visitor wouldn't guess they were at an MCC.