Yesterday I drove by Fountain of Praise Church in the morning. It was before the church opened for public visitation. I just looked from the car.
Today, I watched the live coverage of George Floyd's memorial service on TV. It was moving to see over 500 guests filling the church. Many wore white and all wore masks. It was an eerie reminder that this has all happened during the trying times of the Covid pandemic.
The music was powerful. Sounds of an organ filled the space at first. Then gospel singers, with voices exploding with emotion. A choir joined in above the stage, carefully distanced from each other. None of this was like the Catholic church I grew up with. I was envious.
When family members paid tribute to George Floyd, I felt their loss. I teared up, when I heard the pain in the voices, of his sister and aunt and brothers. I didn't understand all the pain behind their loss, but I tried hard to imagine what life was, is and will be for them. After two weeks of protests, it suddenly became very clear that this was the death of a real human being, not just a name.
Baking is always a good way to lift spirits. The service went on for hours. I kept the TV on, but moved into the kitchen. I needed to make chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. It felt good to listen to the voices and to smell the sweet smells.
But I was distracted in the kitchen. I should have noticed the batter was soupy, when I filled two cookies sheets. This is what cookies look like when you skip the flour. This was a problem, because I wasn't making them for me.
I was making cookies for a friend, who just came back from the hospital today. Luckily I also had a plant to give, so off I dashed to put the plant and "Oatmeal Niblets" on her doorstep. I hope this plant that I re-potted, doesn't die. I've been flubbing a lot of things lately.
I drove home, listening to the radio. I wanted to stay connected to what was happening, just miles away. I returned home just in time to see the funeral procession heading to the cemetery.
I wish Don and I had planned on finding a spot on the roadside to watch. I remember when I was 6, my family drove to D.C. to watch the funeral procession for JFK. I wish we could have been there to show support.
I'm glad this day is over.