I loved being a Acolyte growing up at St Paul’s.
I loved the anticipation of worship in the rectory hall, I loved our ministers recusing themselves in preparation for the service. I loved that some of our ministers even years ago were woman. I loved when the doors opened to the sanctuary and the first few steps of the procession. I loved winding to the back of the church proudly holding the candle.
I loved the smells of Sunday in our old, old Episcopalian church.
I loved getting to the alter, doing the few jobs we were assigned and not tripping on my robe.
I loved settling in behind the ministers and choir opening the prayer books and examining them so I would be sure to know when my next duties were to be. I loved understanding the message and to to do that I learned to listen carefully as the minister painted a grand portrait in living color of the days sermon to the children before their dismissal to Sunday school.
I loved the choir. Their voices would raise to the very tip top of our church making my heart soar with them.
But my favorite part of the service was and still is communion. I absolutely loved the message of inclusively, nonjudgmental hope extended to all in the invitation. To me those few moments were exactly as Jesus had wanted them to be and I held as a sacred honor my duties.
I loved it when the priest would ask us to greet our neighbours because that always meant hugs, laughter and love.
I loved sitting beside my mother and listening to her sing. She had this connection with Jesus that makes my heart ache with love even as I write this now.
I would always move closer to the back of the church when babies were baptised as I was. It was a connect, a reaffirmation even as I knew I was moving away in adolescent disregard in spirit and deed.
Today I love that the St Pauls still believes in everyone.
I love the Episcopal Church even more today if that’s possible. I am crying in joy. Today the Episcopal Church Approved Transgender People for Ordination.