It’s a Sunday tradition, I walk to church and my friend drives me home afterward. This past Sunday, she was out running a race and I couldn’t help but think of her as I walked back from receiving Communion. You see, the steel gray heavens had opened up and rain moved like undulating waves across the parking lot.
I knelt, appreciating the soft communion wafer disintegrating in my mouth, rain pelting the windows. I smiled. I couldn’t help it; I had to text my friend, “Wish you were here.”
Texting when I should be praying? I figured God understands and would appreciate the humor, especially since my friend was running about the last mile in a road race and I would be walking home in waves of rain.
I knelt, appreciating the soft communion wafer disintegrating in my mouth, rain pelting the windows. I smiled. I couldn’t help it; I had to text my friend, “Wish you were here.”
Texting when I should be praying? I figured God understands and would appreciate the humor, especially since my friend was running about the last mile in a road race and I would be walking home in waves of rain.
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