Saturday, September 05, 2015
I was the lone acolyte at the funeral of a parishioner this morning, her daughters and sisters and nieces all gathered for their mother, aunt, sister, and I thought of the women. Gathering, gathering. The sacristan, the musicians, me, the readers. It's not that there weren't men, but that somehow, for this single mother of a single daughter, the women were the frame this gathering clung to.
And Sweet Honey in The Rock's The Women Gather flowed through my mind.