G-Time At His House

Late night at Barnes and Nobles. Need to do 1.3 Miles more tonight. That will be 30 miles for 4 days. I was hoping to do 16 miles today. Eleven will be okay for the night. My goal is 150 miles for March. However, I would like to finish with 300 miles of cardio for the month. I just want to see if I can reach this goal. I find myself anxious at times to get this task accomplished. Putting out in the universe makes it more real. I’m putting myself on the line. I’m finding Doubt gremlins come out and yet I want to shut them up. Also, trying to maintain with my new reading group and getting the task at hand done. Had to run out early so I can get a task accomplished. Also, trying to keep a blog a day is one of my wants to complete. 

My highlight for the day, besides driving Prece home from gymnastic, was my first daily mass. Showed up 10 minutes late. Most seats were filled.  Most of the attending were in the 50s and 60’s I think. All had their head down. The Father dressed in purple and gold robes stood at the front, preaching and smiling. He was happy explaining a section from the Book of Hebrew. He explained most poetry of these days are the rhyming of the last two sentences of the stanza. In the time of the books writing, there was a rhyming of meaning, a rhyming of analogy. He was giddy about it. Not a great orator, yet he enjoyed it and I couldn’t help but smile at the white haired Father’s enthusiasm.

During the tithing time, I think that is what one calls it. It’s the time when the baskets for donations are passed around. The Father waved toward me. I interpreted to mean be bring the basket to present him the giving for the mass. Sitting in the back and being late, I guess had its privileges. Always wanted to do it and here I am in my first morning mass. Trouble is. . .I stood clueless. Holding the basket in hand trying to figure out the next step, I walked towards to the Father to give him the basket, but there was nothing to give him.

You see baskets are passed to both sides up and down the rows of seats . I was to put all the receivings from both baskets and present it to the Father. Trouble is I knew it in concept, but the actual doing. Not so much. I just stood there going, ummm, okay? What am I to do? There were some 50+ people looking at me. Lucky for me, I never really embarrassed easily. This saying helps me, “It is not that I don’t know; It’s just I haven’t learned yet.”  A nice, older lady kindly stepped up and guided me with what to do.  

Somehow I found myself sitting in the front row. Right next to the Father.  No one else sat in my row. Don’t know if its protocol for the front row to be empty. If so, well, next time.  I found myself sitting in the front row receiving the message. I liked the story and analysis of the Father’s explanation of true power. It was something in the Book of Hebrew. I am true babe with all this church stuff. Yet it feels very familiar and clear.

At any rate, close to the end of mass during the head down phase, I found myself tearing up. Don’t know why, I just did. Standing there my head up and cocked to the right. (I do this a lot. While most have their head down in I assume praying I find myself looking up. It is instinctual for one to put their head down in respect. Yet, I always seem to keep my head up. It just feels natural.  I need to keep my head up to get all that is coming up to me) Sitting in class in the front row (Yeah, I've been  a geeky, goody-goody at the front of class) It was just that I was locked in. Didn’t want to miss a thing.  I wanted--no, I needed--to see the body language and hear the inflections . It helps me keep in tune with what is important with the speaker.

The morning mass ended quickly. In passing, the Father gave me an assuring clasp on the arm. He smiled before walking out the door. Well, I went to the back to my original seat before the Tithing incident. I just went back and sat. I just sat and took it all in. Three older Hispanic men, maybe 10 years or so older than me, went to where the Bible (I think) is held. They just put their hand on the stand and knelt down for a good minute. It looked like football players huddled at the end of the game. They had their heads down and I assume gave a final prayer.

Most of the people left. I just sat there with another older lady. I found myself putting my hand to my face and started crying. Don’t know what was pent up and why I started crying. I just did. Nose got stuffy and my eyes were red. Not the stinging kind of crying where something bad has happened it was just a. . .I don't know. A letting go. They say crying is just the body letting go of all this pent up emotion. Don’t know where any of this came from, but there I was. Hands to my face just . . .crying. 

Well, there I sat. I was taking it all in. Catching my breath. I counted the lights overhead. I studied the design of the pane glass window circle, trying to figure if there was symbolism to it or was just pretty. Symbolism is everywhere. For instance, the color purple and gold, represents the colors of the King, royalty. Ashes on the forehead during lent. Forty days of whatever, i.e., Noah, time in the desert, etc.

One can see the main hall, where most of the masses are held, on the other side. Each row had seven chairs on left and right side of the room. I think there was 6 or 7 rows of chairs, which means there is 98 or 84 chairs in the room. There was the two podiums, one in the center where the Bible (I assume is held) and then there is podium where (or was it a table) where the father the wine and the bready thingy was. (I apologize for not knowing the proper names) I will ask next time. A picture of Mary holding baby Jesus was placed to the right next to door. There were three large crosses interspaced between the tables. Table cloths were white with purple and gold accents.

Well, that was my first morning mass. It was many things at once.  Don’t know if I can make it tomorrow, but this will definitely not be my last time.