Our Trip to St. Barnabas, So Far

We managed a midweek service at St. Barnabas last night. I had hoped to fit it in, but you never know when you aren't at home. We got there a bit early, but I am glad because it is nice to familiarize with new churches and surroundings. We talked with a man and his son, Luke, for a little bit, who seemed quiet happy to have Kat around for interaction. I think she was also grateful for something to distract her from the unfamiliarity of the venue, as she is rather attached to our home church.

After a bit, we went into the church, which was brimming with comfort and peace. I had recently told Jay that I missed church and finally realized that it was the hole in my daily existence. No matter how comfortable I am here, it is still not home, and we are not in our routine. It got me to thinking about people in far off lands where they have not had the physical temple, and prayers within, and surrounding, them throughout a service, due to communism, and other bleak disturbances. What a misery to have to endure such detachment from the divine services of the faith, but also what a building block for unadulterated faith for anyone, so long as it is recognised as such. Just as Christ prays in the garden of Gethsemane, so does a person in such a situation, I imagine.

The service consisted of vespers and a molebin for the sick. I had emailed our friend, Sarah, who let the priest know I wished to add my husband, dad, and Matushka to the list. Everything was lovely and I could see God in everything, but not just the written images of Christ in the icons of Himself and His saints, but also in the image of His people, His flock, who are quite obviously in His fold. It is wonderful to have found a place so near that we can attend and, if we must, forego the long drive into LA. If we make it to the garment district, I can see the lengthy journey, but for services, I would recommend, without reservation, going to St. Barnabas, in Costa Mesa.