In the spaces in between my time off from blogging, I never gave up on writing. In fact, I spent much of the time behind these doors. They are special doors that belong to a special building that once a week welcomes perfect strangers united in one belief.
This is my church. I don’t know who snapped the photo so credit goes to “I don’t know who took this photo”.
In the spaces in between I find tremendous comfort in this building. It’s an old building dating back to 1879. Prior to that it housed a Baptist church that opened its doors in 1818. Originally purchased for the price of a buck (that $1.00) back in the day, the land has been a sacred space. During its Baptist incarnation, it hosted Civil War officers who came to this area known as “Fruit Hill” to recuperate from war injuries.
In the spaces in between, I’ve worked on an outreach program to provide beds for pets housed in animal shelters. With donated materials, this fantastic woman whips up mats for dog kennels and cat pillows. She tells me she has to make more so “the dogs’ elbows don’t wear down” in the kennel. Her 14 year-old granddaughter’s contribution? Creating a sustainable, washable dog toy. This woman has produced 67 dog mats since February, over 20 cat beds, and now’s working on an order for a cage cover for a shelteree Cockatiel and rescued white dove. And, she’s gone state-wide serving other municipal shelters.
In the spaces in between, I’ve written two grants and one loan application. Worked on parish marketing and networking, represented our parish at our town’s National Day of Prayer observance and hosted contractors on church site surveys for a construction project.
In the spaces in between, I think this church and I are on parallel missions. We strive to let the public know that behind those red doors incredible impossibilities become possibilities. We are reinventing ourselves in spite of our respective ages. That this building and I share similar missions based on assistance and love.
We might creak, take on water, and see parts of ourselves disintegrate, but we are relentless. Our spires are to inspire. We might have bats in our belfry, but with little heat, we’re just fine.