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Literature Text
There's nothing quite like the Sunday evening after a convention.
The sight of droves of fellow Witnesses, dressed in what others would term their "Sunday best", pulling on a pair of gloves to collect and take out the garbage. Sweep the stadium. Clean out the toilets. Brothers taking contribution boxes to be emptied of their anonymous contents and the totals being used to offset expenses. Others with sleeves rolled up to their elbows taking apart the stage. Removing the custom wiring for the sound system. As they work, I watch the elderly and infirm in the tent next to me being helped into waiting vehicles by their attendants with a smile, a laugh, a comment on their clothes or the weekend's program. I hear the shriek as one more person spies someone they haven't seen in a long time.
I turn away from the crowds for a moment, and focus on me. What do I feel? Contentment over the teachings shared; the friendships created or strengthened. An underlying sadness that it's all over: now only a part of our memories and picture albums. But above all else, there's a renewed sense of zeal awakening to be better. To do more. To reach out. To hold close. To comfort, savor, rejoice.
I close my eyes, and listen to the laughter. The happy voices. I can almost taste that pervasive feeling of comfort. Safety.
Sitting alone at the end of that third day, I smile at these wonderful reminders that despite everything, despite my momentary solitude as I pen these words, I'm a part of something… special. Unique.
Beautiful.
The sight of droves of fellow Witnesses, dressed in what others would term their "Sunday best", pulling on a pair of gloves to collect and take out the garbage. Sweep the stadium. Clean out the toilets. Brothers taking contribution boxes to be emptied of their anonymous contents and the totals being used to offset expenses. Others with sleeves rolled up to their elbows taking apart the stage. Removing the custom wiring for the sound system. As they work, I watch the elderly and infirm in the tent next to me being helped into waiting vehicles by their attendants with a smile, a laugh, a comment on their clothes or the weekend's program. I hear the shriek as one more person spies someone they haven't seen in a long time.
I turn away from the crowds for a moment, and focus on me. What do I feel? Contentment over the teachings shared; the friendships created or strengthened. An underlying sadness that it's all over: now only a part of our memories and picture albums. But above all else, there's a renewed sense of zeal awakening to be better. To do more. To reach out. To hold close. To comfort, savor, rejoice.
I close my eyes, and listen to the laughter. The happy voices. I can almost taste that pervasive feeling of comfort. Safety.
Sitting alone at the end of that third day, I smile at these wonderful reminders that despite everything, despite my momentary solitude as I pen these words, I'm a part of something… special. Unique.
Beautiful.
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Wrote this on July 10th at the end of the "Let God's Kingdom Come!" National convention of Jehovah's Witnesses here in Trinidad. I was unsure about sharing it here, but... well. I'm in a mood. And I didn't want to write yet another depressing Introverted piece. So reviewing and posting this is just to remind myself of better times. And to remember that the joy I felt then, that sense of unity, of being part of something far beyond the walls of my home, will always be there to help me when I need it most.
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