I posted my piece on the ladies of the church last week, and my friend and former colleague Mary McElveen and also former Poet Laureate of the City of Alexandria, put this on her blog.
She wrote, I wrote [this] for a friend who was asked to say a few words about a lady at the church who died of cancer. Gloria was one of those indefatigable volunteers, and probably has heaven organized and running like a top.
Thank you for letting me post your poem, Mary. Every church has its church ladies.
They are legion,
the church ladies:
the hands that smooth the tablecloths, brew the coffee,
bake the cookies, make the sandwiches,
arrange the flowers.
They think of everything,
then do it.
They are the voices on the phone
the fingers on the keyboard,
the gentle nudge
reorganizing and regrouping—
doing the things no one has time for,
for the people no one has time for… and for us all.
They are all things good:
secretary and sorceress,
chauffeur and counselor,
teacher and student,
greeter and galley slave…
And I can’t help thinking that if Jesus is among us,
He is cleverly disguised
as a church lady.