Family Communion . . .

Family Communion . . .

Communion is celebrated in many different ways throughout the world. In Daddy’s church, we celebrated communion in different ways depending on the time of year or special event. Communion was always a solemn time, as it symbolized the taking and eating of bread, Christ’s body and the drinking of wine, Christ’s blood. Daddy never wanted anyone to forget this or take for granted the gift Christ gives of himself, so he often came up with unique ways to present communion to our church family. One of my very favorites happened the week before Easter Sunday . . .

In the front of the church, at the altar’s edge, Daddy set up a long table from one of the Sunday School rooms. It was rectangle in shape, and it’s two legs folded out, one at each end. A metal click echoed in the sanctuary when the braces were in just the right spot to hold the table sturdily. Once the table was in it’s proper place, Daddy then covered it with layers of white draping that covered ½ of the top of the table and hung down the sides till it puddled ever so slightly on the floor. This was done till all 4 sides were covered completely. Then Daddy would spread out the special table cloths that were used in every communion to cover the top of the table with a heavy white embroidered cloth. Momma had washed, bleached, and ironed the cloths so they would look their very best.

Daddy then began to add folding chairs around 3 sides of the table, leaving the front side clear so as to be able to be viewed and admired as people walked down the aisle. There were 13 chairs in all. In the very center chair on the back side of the table, Daddy placed a large painting that someone had painted of how they believed Jesus looked. Daddy knew that Jesus was truly with us in our hearts, but he wanted to do something to help people remember this. The church lights were turned off except for just a couple of soft spotlights that shown down and lighted the table. On the table in the very center was placed a loaf of bread that had no cuts in it, and a metal goblet just to it’s right.

As I would stand back and admire the effect, I began to realize what Daddy was trying to create . . . It looked like the painting of the Last Supper, when Jesus celebrated Passover with his Disciples just before his Crucifixion. Candles were lit behind on the wooden communion table that always sat in the sanctuary in front of the pulpit, as well as on the front edge of both the piano and organ. It was so very beautiful, I could hardly breathe when I looked at it. Daddy would then ask me, “how does it look Debbie?” and all I could do was to shake my head yes, as I never could find the words that my heart was feeling at the sight.

Daddy then took me by the hand and led me into his office where he would let me help him prepare the communion trays. Every part of the trays and the little glasses had to shine perfectly. The silver trays had been washed and dried, and polished till they sparkled even in the dimmest light. Daddy gave me two soft cloths and I would hold a little glass with one in my left hand, and with my right I would push the cloth down into the bottom of each glass to make sure it was perfectly dry and had no spots. Then each glass was placed in one of the holes in the communion tray till each layer was completely filled. Lastly Daddy put the top on that sloped up to a point in the middle where a little cross stood all alone. Then we took special cloths and rubbed the two little flat trays till they shown just as brightly as the others. Daddy wrapped them in small heavy cloths made from the same material the table cloths had been made, to keep them from getting fingerprints on them.

Daddy carried the tall communion tray and I followed him caring the two little wrapped trays. He arranged them on the wooden communion table. The church people who were Daddy’s communion helpers then came in and I had to go back home. I always wanted to stay, but Daddy said that I had to wait and come with our family.

Each church family had signed up for a time to come and have communion together. There were so many that this special communion happened for three nights.

But before she took me home, Momma let me peek through a side door to see what happened . . .

When a family came in, they were greeted in the foyer by one of the communion helpers. The sanctuary doors were then opened for them, and they walked together down the center aisle to the table that had been set for them. Daddy stood at the right side of the Jesus painting and his second helper stood to the left side of the wooden communion table with his hands neatly folded. Two ladies also helped Daddy. One stayed off to the left side of the sanctuary. She was the one who tended to the bread and juice in-between each communion served, and the other sat at the organ playing softly hymns who’s well know words would run through everyone’s minds as they listened to the notes.

Daddy greeted the family and began to tell them the familiar story of Jesus and his disciples . . . How they gathered together, and how Jesus blessed the wine and blessed the bread, telling them to take and eat and to drink and to do it in remembrance of Him. As Daddy continued the story, he would tell it as if no one had ever heard it before with such a reverent joy that was so different you almost felt yourself back in time in the upper room. Before the family would leave Daddy would then pray over them asking God’s blessing and a special touch on each one. The family would then rise, and leave together, and though they walked the same aisle back, they always seemed to hold one another closer on their way out.

Once the family had gone through the doors, Daddy and his helpers would set everything up fresh and new for the next family.

Our family came together on the last night. Daddy greeted us at the sanctuary doors and walked with us down the center aisle. Daddy’s helpers greeted us and helped us to be situated. I always wanted to sit between Daddy and Jesus’ picture. Daddy sat with us and told us the story, and how that Jesus loved us each so very much, that even if we were the only ones, He would have still given his life for us, so that we would one day live forever with Him in heaven.

The helpers served us the bread and the juice and bowed their heads when Daddy began to pray over our family. He prayed for each of us individually and together as one. Daddy thanked God for leading our family, and prayed that He would give Daddy the guidance to be the Husband, Father, and Pastor that God wanted him to be. There was such a warmth in the air surrounding us that I never wanted that moment to end.

We’ve since all gone our separate ways . . . Making our own families and life decisions . . . And Daddy has since gone on to be with Jesus in Heaven. Still I remember that special time, the communion shared, the prayers said, and know that the same God that placed his hand on our family then, is still on the throne and His love for each of us is still as strong and true.