Today was the semi-annual Altar Guild Work Party. This is where about half of us members get together and scrub the heck out of the Chapel and the Sanctuary. 14 women, scrubbing, vacuuming, washing the beautiful mosaic floor on our knees (I say "our" loosely, here; I no longer can get down on my knees on soft, cushy pillows, never mind marble mosaics!), chatting, laughing, and shining our beloved church within an inch of its gleaming wood/marble/brass. A few years ago I was put in charge of these work parties. That was a laugh. The ladies who were born scrubbing the Chapel and Church Sanctuary did whatever they wanted, regardless of any plan I had. ("How do you suggest we do this?" I would say those first few, innocent, years. "Oh, whatever you want, dear," they would say. Then proceed to ignore my plan, my lists, my suggestions, etc., to do things the way they always did.)The Sacristan finally told me to be firm (Hah!). So I took control. One of the tactics of the most vocal groups was to come 1/2 hour earlier than anyone else, regardless of the time that we were told to be there, so that they could grab their favorite jobs (which, coincidently were the jobs that had the most martyr payoff to them). So that year, I arrived 45 minutes earlier than our appointed time. Hah! I stood there with my lists and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. "But,but,but," they sputtered. I also instituted, from the first year, a little prayer service (using the Daily Prayers for Morning, from the Book of Common Prayer)before we began our work. I would have to fight to get the oldtimers off their ladders and into the Chapel for this, but the Sacristan backed me up, and now everyone expects it. It is not surprising, then, that last night I had wild dreams in which I was trying to get the ladies into the Chapel for the service, or waving the vacuum hose at a group and telling them to get to work, or finding myself shut in the closet with the silver. In my favorite of the dreams, I had all the ladies standing piously in the pews (gee, that might make a good title for a novel), waiting for me to find the little service in the BCP, when a group of men in three-piece suits began milling around in the Chapel. THEY wouldn't mind me at all! I tried to get them to either join us or leave, but they kept milling around, in and out of the pews, talking, laughing, and generally being obnoxious. I began to think, in the dream, that it might BE a dream, but I wasn't sure, and I couldn't wake up. Finally, I noticed that the Chapel was wall-papered with tiny sprigs of flowers, and I KNEW THAT was a dream! I woke up laughing. Everything went swimmingly today. There was just the right mix of good oldtimers (the group mentioned above were unavailable today) and newcomers. Everyone signed off on their jobs (which "the group" refuses to do), so I knew what had been done and what hadn't, there was a lot of sharing and laughing, and the buzz of women's voices as they worked was a heavenly chorus, indeed. And everything smelled so good and absolutely shone when we were done. Amen.
Oh, Lyra! Welcome to the University Tango. I danced it with my Bachelor's (two days before graduation, remember, the Registra told Mentor that I lacked two credits; he refused to accept that and worked all night to find the error), and again with the Master's, where they lost some credit hours. I think you're right; when they have a live one, they don't want to lose it.
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