At a concert, and some of the people are annoying, and some pretty drunk
and the ones in front won’t sit down
and I say to you, Help Me.
I think of Emmaeus, where you were walking beside the disciples and they didn’t even know you. They didn’t know you until you broke the bread.
I look at all those people, and their love for the music, and their joy in the event, and I remember that you love every single one of them every bit as much as you love me.
And then I am crying at the concert because of the great love you feel for all of them, and for how it is splashing over onto me.
Remind me of this. I will need it again.
Mary Beth Butler is an Episcopal layperson in North Texas. She is a retired university administrator, paving contractor, and occasional blogger.
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