Paratransit screwed with me again. It seems to be what they do best. Usually, that means they pick me up at least an hour late. But I can't be more than five minutes late getting to them, otherwise they'll leave me. A month or so ago, they were 2 hours late. When I called to find out what was going on, the phone rang for 45 minutes before anyone even answered. It does no good to complain to the powers that be. They just give you excuses. This year, I'm up for recertification. Could someone please tell me why an almost 58-year-old woman with a congenital permanent disability and assorted other significant limitations that have come with aging needs to be recertified as disabled enough to need paratransit? Do they think that riding around in their vans for hours is so much fun I would use them if I didn't have to? And yet, I'm terrified they won't recertify me. Because if they don't, I have no other way to get to church, to doctors, or anywhere else in this city. That they have so much power over my life drives me crazy. Today they found another way to screw with me. When I called for a ride to church tomorrow and told them I needed to be there at 10:00, they told me the latest available pick-up time was 7:45. "I'll call back later," I said. When I called back later, they said the latest available time was 7:26. "I'll call back later," I said again. I didn't call back later. At least, not for the same ride. Remembering that I recently went to an evening prayer service at an Episcopal church a lot closer to my house, I called for a ride to that church-- and got a pick-up time at a reasonably sane hour.
I grew up in the Episcopal church. As a teenager, it bored me. I don't talk to God this way, I said to myself one Sunday when I was thirteen. The words from The Book of Common Prayer came out in a monotone-- from me, from the congregation, from the priest. We said the same prayers every week. All the "thees" and "thous" seemed pretentious. As a young adult, I chose to join the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Their liturgy was more free form. I could write my own prayers. I still love that about "my church," the church which has loved me long and best, long and best enough that it is the church through which I decided to become ordained. I consider it my home. Last week, I wrote and delivered the Call to Worship at my home congregation. I wouldn't trade that opportunity for anything.
But lately I also find myself drawn to the Episcopal Church. I've started reciting its Daily Office. I like the rhythm of repetition; of prayer throughout the day. I like discovering that imperfect [read "sexist"] language can still nurture me. If that's true, maybe I really can nurture other people without being perfect. It's also kind of restful to recite words without thinking about them so much. I wonder how that will shape me? What will happen when I simply allow words to sink into me, when they start running through my head involuntarily throughout the day ?
I'm not giving up the church I chose. I still love the congregation and denomination that ordained me. And I love the people I've spent most of my Sundays with for the last 25 years. I'll be there when paratransit gives me normal if not reasonable options (and whenever I get to lead worship!). But sometimes when paratreansit screws with you, it's nice to remember you have options. While much of my life includes hardship and restriction, when it comes to being fed through the Christian tradition, I am blessed with an embarrassment of riches. Today, I need to remember that.
No comments:
Post a Comment