August is popular for leaving town. I have friends who have traveled to Michigan, Vermont, the Adirondacks, the Cayman Islands, South Carolina, Florida, Canada, and Europe. Yet even with depleted numbers some things are supposed to keep running. The local police did not close up shop. The grocery stores did not cut back their hours. The post office stayed open. Church continued as before.

But this week there were not enough men of the cloth to cover the multiple services that happen simultaneously. Hence the idea was born to have a service service. The regular crowd arrived on schedule, sang a few numbers, and had a couple of readings from scripture. All of these were capably performed by lay people. Children even. Then we rolled up our already short sleeves and got to it. 

For the next forty minutes we organized, cleaned, sorted, scraped, hauled, and fetched. It was a humming place. Let me clarify one thing. This particular church home is not exclusively a church. It is an auditorium. Society building. Theater. Lobby. Reception venue. Hence there is an accumulation of forgotten shoes, abandoned papers, and curiosities that collect in the corners. I was eager to dig into the children's room which has a backlog of broken toys and worn out markers. In fact I was having such a good time I was reluctant to stop when told to come back to the sanctuary for a final song.

But I am glad I did. We all joined hands, me with a twin on each side, and sang a joyful rendition of the Lord's Prayer. I had forgotten about Ben, who was probably in the kitchen taste testing snacks. He wandered in when he heard the music, and for a moment I wondered if he would be upset to have been left out. But he nudged his way into the circle, joining hands with two people who know him, and just like that he belonged. 

It felt good to be working side by side with people I care about. To take a step back from talking about living a life of service and actually do it. 

The opening chapter of the book Married Love by Swedenborg is a story about the misconceptions of people who die. Some think heaven will be a never ending banquet. Others are convinced it will be continuous worship. Another bunch are betting that it will offer a chance to have power. Still others expect to live in immaculate gardens. Yet all of those conditions are secondary to genuine happiness. Making a difference. Helping people. Working hard.

Which it turns out is remarkably similar to being married.