Well, Okay.  So this picture wasn’t taken in Oregon.  Here, whenever I write that I have seen a beautiful, rare sunrise out my upstairs window or a sunset from the top of my hill, I imagine my family in West Texas must think, “So what?”

Here we have lots of trees and mountains and, I admit, lots of cloudy weather, frequently blocking our view.  In Reeves County, Texas, these phenomena are almost daily occurrences.

Joannie snapped this one from her car window. Wow!

Number one:

It is the custom at St. Paul’s for the priest to be led by crucifer and torch bearers down the center aisle, carrying the gospel for the day, where it is read in the midst of the congregation. Then this little procession turns and returns to their places and the priest then normally goes up to the pulpit to preach.  Today, on his way back up there, while we were all still on our feet, Father Jim stopped in front of the altar and, without any explanation, he began to read a list of names, softly and slowly.  Everyone knew who he was naming.  Twenty-six  of them were from Connecticut.  Two were from Oregon.  There was no weeping or wailing. We are Episcopalians.  But I don’t think there was a face that was not wet with tears.

Number two:

There was a baptism listed in the order of service this morning.  I had seen this at choir rehearsal on Thursday night.  It said that a boy named Surenity Delphine Blackmoon was to be presented for holy baptism.  I often think parents these days give their children unfortunate names.  Happily, that turned out to be a typo and Surenity Delphine Blackmoon was an adorable seven or eight-year-old girl.  Blackmoon was her mother’s family name.  Surenity was accompanied by her extended Latino family.  You could tell they knew how to behave in church.  There were a good number of children with them and they were all quiet and still and stood and sat and knelt at the appropriate times.  Surenity wore a beautiful long white sparkly ball gown with a bride’s veil, just what is typically worn by little Latina girls of her age who are receiving their first holy communion downtown at St. Joe’s.  Her mother and father accompanied her to the font where her father removed her veil and held it in his hand.  And she was baptized.  Her godmothers, three little girls named McKenzie, McKayla, and Kimberly,  looked to me like they might be her classmates or cousins.

That’s all I know for sure about this story, but here is what I think the rest of it is.  St. Joe’s downtown has a very large Hispanic congregation as well as a Vietnamese one and an English-speaking one.  I have volunteered in their ESL program on many Saturdays and have seen the Latino first communion children all dressed up for the occasion.  I have also picked up the congregation’s reading materials off the narthex table.  I know that the clergy there are very strict.  Parents must be married for a child to be baptized.  Godparents too.  And for First Communion, it gets even stricter.  I do not know how they even find qualified sponsors for confirmation.   I’m not sure that Surenity’s parents are married.  It is often the custom for Latina daughters to carry their maternal family names, so you can’t tell that way.  But I bet you anything, for some reason, Surenity was refused baptism or first communion (she had the dress) or both down at St. Joe’s.

We’re very inclusive at St. Paul’s.  To paraphrase a Storm Large song,  “Our doors are eight miles wide.  Absolutely everyone can come inside.” Everyone is invited to receive communion too, and everyone did.  Welcome to the Body of Christ, Surenity.