I was aware of her traumatic childhood. I was also aware of how it had impacted her life. Her father was extremely abusive to her mother and to the family. In fact, she bore a small scar near her eye from a brick that her father had flung at her when she was little. Her experiences caused her to be abrasive in her interactions at times. She could be distrusting of people and it took a while to gain her trust.
All six of them stood before us, that day, all in a row. We all knew what was coming and it wasn’t good. I hated these moments and had witnessed them one-too-many times. I never understood why the congregants allowed this archaic practice to take place. Were all of them too fearful to stand up and do something about it?
it is every believer’s liturgical nightmare to lose their elements while partaking in this sacred sacrament. Sadly, this is exactly what happened to me, this last Sunday, as my communion wafer slipped out of my hands and rolled across the auditorium