Our Ministry at Carrington Place

On Sunday, February 14th, I participated in the 2:00p.m. worship service at Carrington Place. The people who gather on the second Sunday of every month appear to enjoy worshipping together; it is a blessing to participate in this aspect of our church ministry.

On this particular day however, one participant was lost and calling. She was a thin elderly woman asking for her mother. I sat with her, held her hand, and was pleased to feel her relax and appear more at ease for the duration of the service.

She sang along to some hymns that were familiar to her, occasionally humming through the spots where words once were.

I haven't experienced the loss of my mother yet, so I can't imagine what that loss feels like. How can words possibly express such an event?

The poet W. H. Auden wrote the following, certainly one of the best attempts in words to convey the loss of a loved one:

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let airplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song:
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can every come to any good.

But we remember that Jesus said, "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

Our ministry matters, especially for the weary and grieving who are lost and searching for peace and rest.