I kinda cheated, and listened to a short worship service early Saturday evening (while doing a puzzle of a church on my medium-sized electronic device), leaving me feeling a little more adrift than I preferred on Sunday morning.

It occurred to me that in addition to what I’d watched on its webpage media, Prescott United Church of Christ had intriguing links on its Facebook page, which allowed my spirit to fly over to the Scottish Isle of Iona — my own personal “pivot.”

It was satisfying to see some of the very spots where I’d stood (and perhaps just as satisfying not to see my favorite corner revealed, complete with vibrant sprigs of delicate green ferns attached to the stone walls by a solitary chair.) Having spent time at the abbey there, Pastor Lisa used some of the very same liturgical phrases as she stood alone in the local sanctuary creating her portion of the worship video for Feb. 28, 2021.

I’d picked up a couple of small polished stones from my colorful collage of clutter to roll about in my hands while I listened; they also provided a percussive element along with the drumbeat for one of the jauntier tunes.

There was a moment when the image on the screen invited you to read your own brief Bible passage. I hadn’t anticipated that. I hastened to open up the conveniently located big book with the golden page edges and landed on “And ... ye came near unto me.”

Some of the concluding words of their morning devotional were “... bringing comfort in your own tender way.”

Back again closer to home, part of Pastor Lisa’s “call to listen,” along with breathing and releasing the tension in your shoulders, were to listen “far and deep and wide” — and let your thoughts be like a river, flowing ever onward.

There was an image of green leaves blowing slightly in the breeze to the moving keyboards music accompanying the lyrics “Oh, God, ... and you know me.”

Speaking about keeping faith “at hand and at heart,” a poetic affirmation described faith as sometimes inducing you to dance, sometimes flickering or causing you to flinch, and sometimes it is like “a shadow stitched to our heels.”

Their symbol for Lent is the ampersand — encouraging us to believe again and again and again.

Kate Josephson grew up in rural southwestern Minnesota — going to a small town church every Sunday — worked as a church secretary in Red Wing for seven years. She continues to seek out religious experiences wherever she goes.

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