Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

In the Episcopal Church we have a lovely service for House Blessings. Often when someone moves to a new home they will ask their family and friends to gather and one of the parish clergy will come with special prayers of blessing and sprinkle holy water in each room. These services are truly a celebration. There is a sense of hope that God is present as we walk from room to room. It is a reminder in the days ahead that, Yes, God is always here amid all the ordinary times of work and rest.

This past weekend my own house was blessed. Perhaps I have been remiss because I have lived here for the better part of a year and have not scheduled a formal blessing. I guess I could have done it myself since I am a priest of the church or at least asked one of my colleagues to do the honors.

But just maybe I have not been so negligent after all but on some unconscious level have been waiting and knowing that the right time would come. Without proper planning or a clearly outlined service bulletin, the time of blessing arrived right on schedule.

I did not send out formal invitations. Neither did I call upon one of my clergy colleagues or place a stole around my neck or grab the aspergillum from the church safe that is reserved for sprinkling holy water over God’s ordinary people and things.

The minister of the ceremony is not yet three feet tall. He doesn’t own a stole and has no idea what holy water is, though if he had enough words he most likely would tell you that the water coming out of Gram’s sprinkler on a scorching Texas day must certainly be the holiest of water to be found.

His name is Cole and for less than 48 hours he graced my home with his presence and blessed the whole space with laughter and life. With invisible holy water, the presence of God was made known. He ran from room to room as he laughed and explored. He slept in my study contentedly and when he was awake sat at my little art desk and creatively scribbled with crayons on blank paper, chattering happily with an occasional exclamation of, “Ta Da!” His bare feet slapped on the tile as he ran to the living room to build towers of wooden blocks, patiently balancing pieces that I was surprised he could manage. When they would tumble to the floor he would simply laugh and begin again. When he was bored with that he would yell, “Bubbles!” in a tone that communicated both demand and delight and I would dutifully produce the wand, blowing bubbles which then dissolved into the carpet, blessing it with a holiness that would remain after he had gone. Then on to the kitchen for juice, milk and cheerios, each item received with a “Thank You” which was never preceded by a,”what do you say” from his parents. This child seems naturally grateful, an enviable quality which is a blessing in itself.

This morning he made his way to the guest room to wake up Daddy with more laughter and mischievous glee that I can hear echoing in the dark of this now quiet house. Making his way into the master bedroom he woke up his godmother after having eaten waffles and syrup. I look forward to reclaiming that space later tonight with the faint smell of maple still on the quilt. I hesitate to wash it out. In my mind it competes with the sweet smell of baptism chrism oil ,reminding me that we are Christ’s own forever in all the ordinary events we encounter.

The day is almost over but one more part of the blessing is left. One of Cole’s favorite activities after I opened the front door, was to use both his arms and hands to push it shut until you could hear it click shut. Despite his sense of power in closing it, he has not yet mastered turning the knob to open the door. So he would stand there and say beseechingly and firmly, “Open!” So I sat on the chair by the door and answered his request over and over again. I never got tired of hearing him say it and expectantly wait for the door to open once more. I hope he never outgrows that sense of anticipation. May he and all of us remain open to life’s abundant blessings.