I took my place in the scattered congregation. I settled in close to my brother and tried not to think about the empty row beside me and all that it represented. I sang the hymns, and at times the shell threatened to crack--worshiping the Lord who knows my heart and loves me anyways often brings me to my knees. But I grasped at the shards of my cracking mask and re-adjusted its place and held it fast.
And then the meeting neared an end and I thought that I had made it without letting down my guard. Then I see the bread begin to pass--and as I look, I realize that it is going to end up way on the opposite end of the pew. The end of the pew where my dad usually sits. My dad, who always looks out for me and takes care of the little details that I forget--like downloading tax programs, and getting snow tires, and passing the bread. My dad and mom aren't here and I am trying so hard to hold it all together but I can't. The seats that are empty and the row that is nearly empty as well scream of the loneliness, the ache, the sorrow.
I am looking around and wondering what to do--do I get up and go get the bread from the other end of the row? Should my brother get up instead? Maybe someone will notice that I am in need of a little help here...
And then my friend in the row behind me catches my eye and motions "I got this." A weight lifts off of me--I don't have to take care of this. And then as the bread comes and I take it and pass it, I burst into tears and I weep with the relief that my Father says to me "I got this." All the walls come tumbling down and I cry with gratitude that in the midst of my loneliness, my heartache, and my need the Lord Jesus says to me, "I got this."
