Low Sunday Pizza

I was in the balcony at First Church today when the pastor confirmed what I felt:  “Today is low Sunday,” he said.  As a retired pastor, I knew what he was talking about.  My heart goes out to all pastors, especially my pastor on this low Sunday after Easter.  He was preparing to return to Kentucky to do the funeral of his mother-in-law. The balance of ministry to others and ministry to one’s self and one’s own family is a difficult one to hold.  I know.  I’ve tried for almost forty years. I knew Dr. Chapman always beautifully crafted his sermons, but this Sunday’s  efforts were even more appreciated given all the demands of the past week.

The choir and bells, who are also balcony people, did a beautiful job.  They lifted my spirits with their  heavenly intonations.  Yet, I could not get my mind away from the terrible losses of life in tornados this week, now over three hundred dead in the Southeast.  Many in Raleigh are still cleaning up and putting their lives together from tornados in the previous weeks.  I also remembered the losses of lives in Libya, Iraq, and Afghanistan  in those continuing wars.

 I returned home on what was becoming an overcast Sunday.  I missed my children and grandchildren in California, Colorado, and Maryland. I thought of those in my family who had died. I was spiraling to even lower Sunday depts. “Time for a nap!”  Did the disciples say that in their  low Sunday experience? I can’t stop the wars or bring my loved ones home at the snap of a finger.  I cannot erase tornados and their effect ,but I can give and help as possible in the aftermath, but all that after a nap.

As evening of this low Sunday approached, the thought of raiding the frige for a quick meal didn’t really sound appealing.   I found a Papa John’s coupon.   I could order on line and get a whole dollar discount!   After about a half hour of trying to get all the information entered in the on-line forms, with my wife wiping my brow as if I were a surgeon working over his patient, we completed the order (my wife intervened before I canceled it all, or before I could give away our credit card number to the whole world).  It was a hard fought technological battle, but I (we) won!  We actually bought our first pizza on-line!

The pizza arrived. It was missing the olives and mushrooms we “thought” we had indicated on-line.  We sat in the tranquility of the back porch, said a blessing, thought of those without homes or loved ones, and feasted on our low Sunday pizza. And I decided, right then and there as I dipped my pizza crust into the garlic sauce, that I had no reason to complain.