Refresh: Forest Church

This past Sunday we had ‘Forest Church’. I arrived at Redwood Park at 7:00 am to stake our spot at one of the long table shelters. A father had nabbed the shelter across from me and was setting up for a birthday party. We smiled knowingly at each other, kin in our common task of squatting. The time passed quickly. There were tables to wash, passing dogs to pet, buckets of water to fill up for the relay races, bread to cut up for communion. I loved hearing the birds and watching the morning light filter through the leaves, all so much less stressful than making final edits to my talk, my usual Sunday morning fare.
At 9:45, four ginger heads made their way towards me, heavy laden with chairs, relay race supplies, and two kinds of coffee cake. The Hubbards had arrived, minus Andrew. I remember Jen pregnant with Nate—now, all three boys are taller than me, and such great kids. It brought me such delight to see their faces.
They kicked a soccer ball around as people began to arrive. My heart kept feeling that delight as I saw new faces showing up. Soon, the table was filled with blueberries, watermelon, coffee cake, chips and dip, donuts and egg casserole, warm hash browns, green grapes. We quickly outgrew the large circle of chairs, so John and Wendy made a new row, calling themselves “the back row Baptists”. Blankets and chairs began to spill out randomly into the sunshine.
After we prayed and filled our plates, I watched folk break into smaller clusters. I felt comforted to see newer people included in conversations with old timers. Summer took the little kids into the forest to see the fairy garden, armed with a walkie-talkie in case she needed back-up. Lucy set up her volleyball net. Katie and Dan brought out some big black drums for a game. Four teams of adults and kids transported water and eggs and threw balls in relay races. People seemed relaxed and enjoying themselves. I felt a warm gratitude in my heart and said a little “thank you” to God for our unfolding—all we’ve been through as a community, and here we are: still full of love, still full of warmth and light.
People began to slowly pack up and leave. I said my goodbyes, thanking people for coming. It was after most folk had left that I realized I had forgotten communion! The grape juice, cups, cut up bread, all abandoned at the far end of the table. I felt forgetful and a little foolish. I had announced it before we prayed for the food, so people were expecting it. I had intended it to be a little sacramental moment folded into our picnicking. I went to the few people near me, “I’m so sorry, I forgot communion!”
And that’s when it hit me: we were the communion, the sacramental moment, tucked into the folds of space and time.
Deep peace and blessing,
Anne
Rev. Anne Baxter Smith
Pastor, The Church at Southpoint
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