By the time I was pregnant with my first son I was learning to pray using contemplative practices. I was embracing the liturgy. And I was in a church that celebrated communion every Sunday with real wine in a shared chalice. My husband and I had been at this church for two years prior to my pregnancy and during those years, I had taken to putting my lips to the shared cup and gulping, despite my husband’s more sanitary bread dip.
I had this physical need to live the metaphor each Sunday. I wanted to experience the burn of the wine in my throat. I couldn’t help putting my lips to the chalice where all those lips had gone before me. I wanted connection to our community, germs and all. I wanted a physical faith.
I'm guest posting over at Suzannah Paul's place today, as part of her "31 Days of Embodied Faith" series for the month of October. I'm thinking about communion and pregnancy and what it means to "live the metaphor." Solche hausarbeit-agentur.com/ magnetfelder können sehr unterschiedliche formen und verschiedene stärken haben