I walked to church alone on a beautiful autumn day. The weather was like a summer morning, but the drifts of yellow and brown leaves were so thick I could hardly walk down the steps through St. Nicholas Park, where a man watched helplessly as his dog ran in exuberant wide circles around him on the still-green grass.
A large church attracted my attention, and I looked up in passing at it, startled by the gargoyles emerging from its eaves, black and menacing against the cornflower blue sky.
Two homeless men lay sprawled on a sunny patch of sidewalk soaking in the unseasonable warmth.
Ladies with big hats headed to various churches, and an old man in a fedora told me I looked pretty as he passed. I smiled and said good morning to a shopkeeper standing in the doorway of a corner store. I shook my head and said "no thank you" as two ladies held out a religious pamphlet. "Have a blessed day," they replied.
The music from my ipod playing in my ears was old-time gospel, and it matched the lovely Sunday, full of fascination.
At church, the spirit was strong, I felt unified with my ward-family. The speakers were a Mongolian woman and a husband and wife from Haiti. The man gave half his talk in French, which I did not understand, but loved.
Afterwards, me and a generous young man delivered ten bags of donated clothing to a woman who is taking them to Sierra Leone to distribute to needy people there. She was so grateful for the help, and it made me feel great to help her. Thanks again to Taylor for letting me commandeer his car!
Back home, I sat in the rays of the sun as it set across the Hudson River, and worked on my crochet. My sister called and we chatted about all of life's complexities. Later on, my roommates made a delicious salmon dinner and guests came over to share it with us. The conversation was pleasant and interesting, the company welcome, the food delicious.
The last event of the night was the last episode of the latest season of Mad Men. I cried, and I loved it.
All in all, a wonderful day.