Episcopal Church Foundation Vital Practices

She wills her frail body to stand as witness and welcome to these newest members in the body of Christ. And only after sharing the peace with her neighbors does she succumb, letting her body seek refuge in the support of the pew. 

On All Saints Day last week, the priest welcomed me to the service with the greeting: “St. Richelle.” Not often at a loss of words, this made me stumble. No, no, I don’t think so, I laughed, to cover my discomfort. He preached then about how we are all saints in our way, in our time, believers of the Gospel who try to live out this call. 

Martha can’t navigate the stairs to receive the Eucharist, so the bishop comes to her. She holds out hands twisted with arthritis, with knotted knuckles, and coffee-brown spots. They shake as she waits to receive the host. 

Suddenly, I’m in a thin place, the flutter of a butterfly wing between the pew of my church and the gates of heaven. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more sacred moment as I watch a woman who defies the limits of her body to feed her soul and worship the Lord. 

I am in the presence of a saint, surrounded by the cloud of witnesses, and I give thanks.