From The Rectory - June 2024

I love words! They're fun to learn and they're so,much fun to play with! When I discovered
crossword puzzles in junior high school, my,summer plans were established. Between puzzles
and reading, I may have missed out on some,baseball, swimming, and sidewalk skating with the
neighborhood group. Other kids were always on,the go but rarely in the library, so I enjoyed a goodndeal of time immersed in my favorite things and reveling in my solitude. I didn't know what an introvert was at that time, but I wore it well. Back in those days, when I needed to verify spelling or learn a definition (long before Google was,invented) the dictionary was my best friend.
Who knew it was filled with such delightful rabbit holes. We enjoy seeing bunnies scamper across the lawn at The Rectory, and I suppose they have actual rabbit holes, but I've never seen one. I'm still in awe of all the green in Tennessee. The trees filled with leaves applauding the breeze and the squirrelsmrunning up and down their trunks, leaping from bough to bough. Then there's the grass, pepperedj with the aforementioned rabbits frolicking amongst the dandelions, and last week, an actual “snake in the grass.” That's a phrase my mother would use occasionally; as I understand it, it means a person,who may have nefarious intentions
.
Anyway, I was super tickled to see Mr. Snake as he basked in a few afternoon rays. It looked like his tail was still in the hole from which he emerged, so I can't really say how long he was, though smaller than the one Vandy met on the Meditation Trail,recently. But I digress. After a few minutes, he slithered into another hole, so I'm hopeful he will,hang out here and eat nasty mice and inform any of his venomous relatives that our grass is occupied, so they can keep on moving!  Conversations in my family have always contained fun phrases, like “snake in the grass,” which we learned from my mother. Some she may have coined - if you complained of boredom, she might zing you with, “well, it wasn't boring before you got here.” Then my dad introduced some interesting comments which we've kept using, such as “ugly as homemade sin.” Many more have been borrowed from different sources, including a lot of “southernisms” with which you may already be familiar - “bless his heart” - and quips directly from TV or pop culture - “ain't nobody got time for this that.” Even in the throes of dementia, old, trusted phrases remain in her grasp - everyone in our family gives her credit for saying, “it's not goodbye, just
see you later,” and when she and I speak on the phone, we always end the call with “love you later.”  These are probably different from colloquialisms common in Spanish, which is her first language.learning English gave her new expressions and cliches to add to her communications which have served her well through the decades. But regardless of the language, these are the words with which we identify, which bring to our minds “Granny” (as my mother is known by all the relatives including her siblings), and which evoke emotions of our
common heritage and experiences.
Similarly, the words used in liturgical worship are part of our common experience in the church. The phrases, prayers, responses, creeds, affirmations, hymns, and scriptures are ones we've learned from childhood (or are learning, if not cradle Episcopalians) which bind us together in the family of God.
As you participate in the service, think about the,words you hear, the responses you speak, and whatthey mean to you individually. As you acceptcommunion, embrace the community. When you pass the peace, let your worries and disagreements be pacified. Let the verses of the hymns wash over you, filling you with the Holy Spirit. Hear the,scriptures with an open mind and an open heart, taking instruction and guidance for your day-to-day,support. Become a part of the blessing, and carry it with you throughout the week, allowing it to,multiply as you share with everyone with whom you meet. In a word, be a Christian.
Thanks be to God, indeed.
From the Rectory 

Sylvia