Sunday Moments

Some moments, when I sit in church,
my eyes drift to the door,
and I still see you.

That last Sunday,
holding onto the door frame,
gathering strength to make it to the pews.

Walking behind you in case you fell,
and hiding my tearful eyes from you.
I saw your body trembling.
The grimace of pain.

In quiet humility,
you thanked our Pastor for ‘the Word’,
and I knew……..

I remember walking down the aisle.
The moment I was given.
You whispered how you loved me.
Our hearts melted into one,
and the Face of God smiled.

The fluttering of frail hope.

I don’t remember three months on.
An ocean of kind faces,
and nothing……….

At the altar there is a painting.
Jesus.
Clothed in Holy White and Red.
‘Lamb of God’.
Surrounded by light.

He whispers how He loves us all.
His arms are open wide.
He holds you now.

No more trembling, or pain, or tears.

and He holds me.

‘I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.’ Philippians 1:3. K

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