Unordinary Sunday
A normal Sunday, I thought, when I went down to attend the service at church. But it wasn’t. I hardly could find a seat; I had to sit down right in front of the big column with Michael the Archangel reducing a dragon to chains.
On my right, fresh music from the organ. On my left, two impressive pipes were already building up the still silent new organ.
Since when I came to live here, I realized how much the indoor landscape I was used to had quite changed. No more modern and impersonal one-room apartment walls. Now I have to open a huge main door dated 1500. Then go up mighty stairs and open the piano nobile door with the likelihood to find some guests’ voice tuning some sort of opera warming up.
200 years ago this place was open to start an indipendent true Christian community.
That unordinary Sunday of 2023 I became aware of being offered a rare chance to live more or less the same atmosphere of what life used to be in a Renaissance house that is now a historical building memory of the English robust presence in the Florence of 1800: many artists followers of the PreRaphaelites, many more common people, and some extraordinarily brave souls.
Immersed in these beautiful thoughts, I felt honoured to be part of it.
My eyes catched that some people had returned after the Summer break. I felt happier than usual. At the end of the service, I would certainly find many people to talk to, maybe also introduce some to another one.
I would greet that couple with whom conversations grow deeper and deeper everytime we meet.
I would bring my smile to that very aged lady on wheelchair. To let her bright smile respond.
I would certainly talk to the newly arrived girl who is writing a book.
And sure I would greet the young Italian organist, who is sadly going to remain only temporarily but whom everybody loves, to learn what new classical piece had played. Deserves applause every time.
But it was no ordinary Sunday, so in the end plans changed a bit.
While heading to meet the girl of the book, I suddenly noticed a too lonely lady in a corner, and chose to start conversation with her instead.
Good choice. Otherwise so much would have remained concealed within that silence. Pity only that that same Sunday was her last day with us in Italy.
But she still found time to tell me she used to be a regular, and expressed heartfelt concern for the elderly who for some reasons cannot come back: reasons of health or just because the age is forcing them to move less.
We exchanged goodbyes and email addresses. One more good soul to keep in touch with.
When everybody finally left, there was still noise in the kitchen. A lady was introducing an American internship student into her very first words in Italian language... while loading the diswasher! Fun!!
Before joining them, my mind went to those who didn’t come up to the piano nobile after service. Hope the best blessings for them, that God will guide their lives; and that sometimes they will want to stay with us longer.
Just to see new authentic relationships blossom in our garden too… 💖