A box, a box…

Taken from my notebook where I was writing before liturgy today…

“Sitting in a pew, watching the choir arrange themselves in the section where I usually tuck in…now listening to them practice the Gloria and finding it a much more pleasant alternative to the woman who is speaking even louder now to be heard by the tour group members moving through the main part of the church. The choir has moved on now to the psalm and the aleluia…and just as I began to float on the acoustics, someone carried by a a box labeled “angel wings.” For some reason, I find that rather endearing…and comforting on some level…spare wings…that there would be angel wings available to use when the proof was needed. And, all the better that it was a simple cardboard box, written on in marker. A simple container that lets glory be glory. I can’t help but think that the angels would be perfectly okay with that. I can’t help imagining the conversation–“Okay, folks, they’re not buying it. Got to break out the wings.” “Aw geez, the wings??” “Yep, no choice on this one. Formal occassion and all…” Someone gets sent to the closet to sift and sort through boxes until finding the one wrapped with a bit of twine and labeled in permanent marker, “Angel Wings.” Then there’s the trying on…sort of like choir robes, I imagine. Somewhat cumbersome, perhaps, but tradition. Big wings, small wings, fluttery wings and flappy wings… and you know when you found the right pair because your cheeks get warm and you find yourself wondering about the stars.”

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