Sunday reflection

 It's an odd sensation to feel like you've come home when you're so far from home.

  

But this is the sensation I felt so overwhelmingly yesterday 

as 10 adult missioners gathered at the little church on the reservation. 

There was Lauren, 

who came out before the service began to welcome us as we sat in the pews, 

who went into a pew to kiss and embrace an elderly parishioner, 

then over to pick up a 6 month old and hold her high. 

 And then 19 of our children came in, 

mixed with 4 of Emmanuel's leaders.  

And then 4 or 5 missioners from Minnesota came and sat down.  

All the while were gathering the local parishioners.  

Parents, grandparents, children, grandchildren, and babies began to fill the pews.

Picture Lauren, in her booming voice, welcoming us--beaming at us all.  

Now picture Kimmy, the tomorrow-turning 7 year old, who was called out of her pew, 

engulfed in a huge embrace in the middle of the aisle, in the middle of the service, 

and prayed over in joy for her.  

Why did it feel, so far (trust me on this)--why so far from home did it feel like home?  

Sure, there were many familiar faces around us.  

But it wasn't that.  

We were singing familiar hymns, but in Lakota.  

Yes, we were certainly made to feel welcome, but it wasn't that.  I

t seemed to me, the more I thought about it, 

that it was because we had tapped into the deeper, universal stream--

that cosmic aquifer--

that binds us all together no matter where we are.  

That deeper truth that we are all one that so often is obscured when we are "at home."  

Like the ever-present stars we can't see because of the city lights. 

I think it felt more like home, than home, simply because we had touched, and been touched,

 by the wider community of God--

our real home.

Jerry Cooper