Title TK

Ryan's mama loves communion.
Ryan loves communion almost as much as his mama.
Ryan's mama loves Vespers.
Ryan loves Vespers almost as much as his mama.
Last night, Ryan and his mama and Vespers and the Holy Spirit and a bunch of good people came together in communion -- this holy mystery.

Karen's dad loved mystery.
That's how he finally came willingly to the communion table, through mystery.
Karen's dad loved fishing, too. And baseball.
Karen loves baseball almost as much as her dad.
Ryan loves fishing almost as much as his grandpa.

Fish used to be part of the communion meal in very early Christian churches.
Baseball did not, at least not recorded by Eusebius or Tertullian -- though Tertullian did provide Christian Tradition with a name for its own Tinker-to-Evers-to-Chance combo, coining the term Trinity.
Baseball did not, at least until last night, when Ryan, a promising Mira Mesa Youth Baseball utility player and speedster on the base paths, decided to race to the communion rail.

From the middle of the sanctuary, Ryan began weaving his way quickly past other worshipers, breaking into a full run on the chancel to surpass Tom, who is almost always first to the altar on the side Ryan's mama serves. Tom seemed taken aback at first and then, when he saw that it was Ryan racing to be first, he broke into a smile as big as the one on Ryan's mama's face.

"The bread of life and the cup of blessing, given in love for you, Ryan," Ryan's mama said to him.

"Amen," Ryan said, looking into his mama's eyes.

Amen

(The title to this blog came to me as I sat in the front pew listening to the beautiful postlude last night. The title and a bunch of other words that aren't these words also came to me then. These words are better than the words that came to me last night, but I can't for the life of me remember the title, nor, for that matter, come up with a better one. So, I've used some journalism shorthand. Often stories are sent on down the production line without essential elements like headlines. So, at the top, you write "Headline TK." TK, for some odd reason, stands for "to come." It lets folks know you didn't forget to write the headline, you just haven't yet had time or inspiration, or both. Sometimes you even see the words accidentally published.)