We Are Woodland

Summer Sundays are not as well attended as during the rest of the year. And our congregation is already pretty small, and yet meets in a relatively cavernous sanctuary. So it wasn't unusual for this past Sunday's morning service to feel sparse. I didn't count, but I'd say there were maybe 75 people there.

And yet the time together seemed so rich and so varied. Something I cherish dearly about our congregation is that it is both diverse and warm. This makes for really meaningful times together: people are so different in so many ways, and yet we interact with each other's lives so deeply and genuinely. Consider these many strings God wove together just this one Sunday morning among so small a group:

* People mourning recent deaths in their immediate family

* People praying for relatives with significant medical issues

* People rejoicing in the reunion of a young family after immigration issues were resolved

* People giving thanks for a summer camp for kids that is going well so far, and asking for volunteers to help finish it out

Or may I describe us in other ways. We had people helping people pack up and move away, people passing kids' clothes on to new parents, and people coordinating meals for a family in need. We had doctors talking to homeless people, one non-English speaking believer bringing his non-English speaking non-believer friend to church for the first time, and four generations of one family greeting everyone in sight. We had newlyweds and divorcees, the elderly and babies, people running the gamut in skin color and income level and profession.

We are Woodland. And we may not be very rich or impressive in the world's eyes, but from where I was sitting this past Sunday, we are some kind of beautiful.