At my last congregation, I often preached at a small Saturday evening service in our chapel. I came to call it, affectionately, the "early edition." One of the occasional attendees was a nice older woman who I came to know pretty well. Sometimes she came early and we had an opportunity to visit.
It was a long time ago now—but you don't forget some things, even after many years. It was a long time ago that I lived and worked as a missionary in Japan. I was a stranger there. Although I worked very hard to know and to be known, to learn Japanese, to understand, there were also many other forces that made that difficult. In some ways, I would always be a stranger.
Once a month, on Monday evenings, I was worshiping at a new service at my husband's church. There is no sermon at this worship service. There are no hymns, but the service does open and close with a meditative chorus. There is instrumental music in the background. There are two or three short scripture readings. There is plenty of silence between the scripture readings.