Doors

What color should my door be?

Some of the doors Deanne and I paused to photograph on the walk home from the Quaker meeting Sunday noon.

Oh, the Quaker meeting you ask?

We entered a walled courtyard where succulents clung to the stone and columbine

grew with clover at the base of that wall.

 

A woman met us at the door and welcomed us inside a hallway. A bit musty, as though windows should be opened and a brisk south wind blown through to air it out. She asked if we are familiar with Quakers and we had to admit - only through story books. I mentioned Christy by Catherine Marshall. Other books with Quaker characters in them came to mind... The Witch of Blackbird Pond, King of the Wind, a story in one of the Pathway readers, The Bishop's Chairs ? Is that the name of the story?

We were given some pamphlets to read and the order of the service was explained. If sitting still for one hour is too long we can feel free to get up and move around. We mentioned that our church service is two hours long so we are used to sitting for an extended length of time.

(By this time another woman joined us and mentioned that this is a very small group and most of them are away this weekend.) 

Then came the question of what our affiliation is and they nodded when we said Mennonite - they are familiar with Anabaptists.

The room we entered had a high high ceiling.  A large fly buzzed at the window near the ceiling, trying to get out. Old benches lined the walls and cushioned chairs were arranged in a large circle around a low table. A vase of flowers, a pitcher of water with several glasses, a Bible and a guest book were arranged on the table. Helen and Heather said we are welcome to sit anywhere but they have found the benches to be hard so they choose the cushioned chairs.

When we sat down the silence began. We could speak if the Spirit urged us to say something. Or we could pray, read scripture and meditate, silently. A clock quietly tick tocked. I remembered to turn the sound off on my phone. 

It was a very peaceful time of worship, praising and thanking God through prayer. After twenty minutes Heather spoke of gratitude.  Twenty minutes later - more or less - and Helen spoke about the love of God.

In my prayers and supplication for Angie and Nova I found myself crying and again releasing them to God and asking for His will to be done in their lives.

At the end of an hour Helen shook hands with Heather and then with each of us. Then she went to make tea and coffee and we visited together and got acquainted. 

On our way out the door they showed us the garden and a grassy area that was the graveyard. In the old days Quakers couldn't be buried in the cemetery so they were just buried out behind the buildings in a  homemade plot. This makes me very sad. The same sad/mad feeling I felt when I was told infants who died before they were  baptized weren't allowed to be buried in a cemetery. 

Sit for an hour in silence with some Quaker friends if you get the chance.