locked

Today I had a taste of what the foolish bridesmaids felt like, knocking on a locked door.

I thought I was being one of the wise bridesmaids. Two and a half weeks ago when a former pastor and professor's death was announced, I rearranged my standing obligations so that I could attend his memorial service this afternoon.

Winter has descended upon the area, and the drive up up up to Westmoreland Circle today was both treacherous and gorgeous.

The parking lot was empty, and the church was locked.

Another alum arrived, similarly confused. Eventually, his Google-fu told us the service had been rescheduled at a different location earlier in the day.

Although I was not particularly close to Jim personally, he was an important part of the community that shaped the faith that has carried me through my adulthood, and the world is less bright without him in it. I am oddly bereft at having missed the opportunity to mourn in community.

Since I had made space in the day for holy things, I stopped to walk the labyrinth at American before coming home.

The campus is a fleeting frosted wonderland.