A Fine Sunrise Service

Up early, Finn and I decided to go to the Sunrise Service at Holmes Lake this morning.  Like most early services, it was poorly attended by the bipedals.  In fact, there was only one other car in the parking lot--my neighbor Mary Kay's.  And I was pretty sure we weren't going to sit together, given that she was halfway across the dam by the time I got out of my car.  Fine by me, since one of the reasons she and I love that early service is because the few humans who are there are mostly silent during it.

Atop the dam, I began scanning its backside, hoping to see Mr. Fox at the lectern.  He's a great reader of the holy texts, succinct in his retelling of God's great commands.  Halfway across the lake's spine, I finally spied the fox, who was clearly distracted by voles in the tallgrass. Given that today's reading came from Obadiah (yawn!), Finn and I whispered our silent prayers of thanks for the tiny vole that had disrupted it.

By the bridge, the congregation broke into the service's first song--"All Things Bright and Beautiful"--led by a rather undisciplined choir of geese.  A mallard family, gleeful to have found  a wide swath of open water, hung close to the bridge but refused to join in.  Recalling my own stressful days of bringing young children to church, I withheld my harsher judgments and walked on.

Halfway through the service by now, my mind had started to wander.  Even Finn was distracted, going off trail in pursuit of invisible field mice who'd slept in and were just waking up. My ears stinging from the chill air (I have always hated wearing hats at church), I was glad the sun had begun stretching itself across the sky.

Rounding a corner, Finn and I startled a flock of juncos that were prepping their music for the 10:30 service.  As much as I like their subtle songs, I'm no fan of mid-morning church, preferring instead the comfort of my home's small library, where the Sunday crosswords tempt me.  Though not in a biblical way, of course.

By the second bridge, we caught a glimpse of the guest preacher, a lone blue heron hovering silently over the treetops.  Or, I suppose, it was possible he was hovering over the golf course, wishing for warmer days and a decent chip shot.  Regardless, I appreciated his minimalist approach to this morning's Good Word.  In fact, he uttered not a single one, to which I might have said "Hallelujah!"

Plodding through the final few minutes of the service, Finn and I took note of an eagle-eyed Swainson's hawk, one of the stodgy avian attendees who was making sure we didn't leave early.  The Bluejays weren't deterred, though, heading for the exit, and none too quietly.

Despite the absence of readings, the sloppy singing, the silent preacher--or perhaps because of all of these things--Finn and I left Holmes Lake heartened and lighter in spirit, glad for our time on this earth and our company of creatures, both great and small.

Can I get an "Amen?"

Amen!