crossthreaded

One New Year’s evening a few years back, I was waiting for my friends to return home so that the festivities could begin. I was in New Waverly, Texas, which boasts the best pie in the area, served at the Waverly House restaurant.

It was about ten o’clock at night, and I wandered into St. Joseph’s church. A service was being held, and I just took my place, amazed at the beauty of the sanctuary and what was going on around me. I ended up taking communion, without realizing what a huge insult that was given that I am a Protestant.

I drove back through New Waverly a few weeks ago while I again waited for the same friend to come and have lunch at Waverly House restaurant with me. I drove by the white church, and read about its history on the state historical marker sign out front. The area has a large Polish population, and the church was built to reflect its European heritage. It was a place of familiarity for the new immigrants, with the same customs and rituals they were used to at home.

I didn’t go inside this time, but I stood outside awhile, enjoying the peace and beauty that only God could build.

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