Over Afternoon Tea

Tea is not only a drink but a ritual over which people have been relaxing, talking, and catching up on each other's lives for centuries. This blog is intended to serve as a virtual cup of tea, helping me keep in touch with friends and family in my physical absence.

Shiny People
You can find them in any church. Probably in any crowd. They walk up to introduce themselves, smiling quietly, with a strange inner light I'm at once attracted to and frightened by. He's the worship leader. She's the youth pastor's wife/assistant. He's a wannabe monastic. As the relationship progresses, I'm dramatically impressed by the amount of time he spends at services, the amount of time she spends in prayer, his ardent devotion to the youth of the church. They are determined, devoted, giving deeply of themselves to their churches and their God.
And time goes on, and I get to know them better. He makes for a fantastic service, but he can't run a practice session. Off he goes into his own worship time, leaving everybody else on the wrong note, confused. The kids in the youth group adore them, but they can never get anywhere on time, never remember anybody who isn't physically present. Irritating parents. Alienating some of the teens. Health starting to break down from working too long. He's worn out his prayer rope, and he's starting to look gaunt. Can't hold a conversation, eyes burning, smile getting fixed. And the light in their eyes begins to glitter like the first fevered wave of madness.
And I hate them for my weariness, because I'm too tired for Vespers, because my prayers don't burn as they did when I was young, when I was newly Chrismated, when I was shiny too. And I fear for their fire and their zeal and their sanity.
And I begin to avoid them. To smile politely when others admire their devotion, their fire, their zeal. They're still there, smiling at me with shiny eyes, wondering why I don't come to church as much as they do, don't seem to like them as much as they like me. Can't understand, can't interpret my wariness. All with them is openness. All with them is fire. And I am hesitation, wondering if they are tomorrow's saints, or today's madmen.