It is common knowledge that Dad is now on a feeding tube. He considered staying at home, but we encouraged him to attend with us. We entered the church and took our position on the back row of the bottom level. The service began, as did the struggles.
We stood for the singing of the hymn. The Baptist Rabbi did not have the energy to stand, so Mallory sat with him and held the bulletin. After the Christmas message, it is tradition for all participants to light a candle and sing a hymn by candlelight. Once again, Dad was was unable to hold the candle due to the un-welcomed shaking of Parkinson's. Mallory held the candle for him so that he could participate. My sweet Mom had her fair share of issues too as she attempted to maneuver the portions of the service. Drew took his job seriously to ensure that she did not fall and could get up and down successfully.
The service always ends with communion. The congregation silently walked to the front of the sanctuary to receive the elements of bread and juice - signifying the flesh and blood of Christ. Communion is one of the most spiritual acts of worship. As always, I pushed Dad to join us as we made our way to the front of the sanctuary. He shook his head no. I encouraged him again - followed by a second no. As I demand the third time, reality slapped me in the face. It was not that he didn't want to go....he couldn't go. Doctors orders - no food or liquid by mouth. He was what they call NPO. Parkinson's had stripped him of his ability to participate in the act of communion.
He motioned for us to continue our way toward the deacons holding the elements. As we stood in line, I looked back at the strongest man I know. This man of steel had led this same church for almost a quarter of a century. He had blessed the elements and served communion for almost half a century in a variety of places. He had served the Lord faithfully for almost seventy-five years! And now a neurological disorder had robbed him of his ability to take communion. The Baptist Rabbi sat alone, on the back pew, with tears streaming down his face.
Fighting back my own tears of sadness, anger, hurt, and fear, I witnessed a remarkable thing happen. As individuals finished communion, they made their way to Dad. Blessings, hope, and love overflowed on the back row. As we left, several special friends specifically made their way to Mom and Dad to offer them a Christmas blessing. Dad and Mom left the service with their hearts filled.
As Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day, I was still reflecting on the events of the night. It is true that the Baptist Rabbi was unable to partake in the official elements of communion. However, communion found its way to the back pew of the church and even followed us outside the church walls. The people showed the flesh and blood of Christ through their hugs, words of encouragement, and prayers. Dad could not go to communion, so God brought communion to my Dad through some amazing people. And it was a beautiful thing.
We don't have to go to God. God comes to us.....in all situations and places. Our personal circumstances change, but God does not. He is constant and faithful to those who believe. He meets us in our personal reality or condition and shows us His flesh and blood in a variety of ways - oftentimes through the acts of people. I learned an important lesson on that Christmas Eve. In taking communion and remembering the flesh and blood of Christ, we are called to turn those elements into acts of love, compassion, and hope to others. I am thankful that God can be found everywhere, even on the back pew. I am thankful that when life robs us of our joy, God is there. I am thankful that when communion is not physically possible, God still finds a way to let us know that he is there, fighting for us and with us. Communion may not be an option for some, but God's flesh and blood will never leave our side. Thanks be to God.
Update of Baptist Rabbi: Dad went back for his follow-up swallow test. It did not go as well as we had hoped. The swallow therapy has not shown improvement with his swallowing. It appears as if the feeding tube is a permanent reality, at least for now. He is going to continue with 2 additional types of therapy to see if progress can be made. With this bad news, he has been unusually optimistic. He has put on some weight, he feels strong, and he is ready to begin socializing with his friends. He is still as sharp as ever! I am confident that his attitude has a great deal to do with the community of support that continue to show the flesh and blood of Christ through their acts of kindness and love. From a daughter who loves her Mom and Dad very much, I thank each of you for loving them with me.
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