Someone picks a name. Everyone who loves them shows up. Here are a few from this week.
For Eleanor, turning ninety on Saturday.
Her two sons, eight grandchildren, fourteen great-grandchildren, and the entire Phoenix Symphony Women's Guild she chaired in 1979.
For Marcus, going into surgery Tuesday morning.
His college roommates, his coach, the neighbor whose dog he walked, the sister who pulled the whole thing together in twenty-four hours.
For James, who served three tours and still has trouble sleeping.
His unit, his pastor, the V.A. counselor who saved his life, and the daughter he couldn't be there for at her wedding.
For Mrs. Patterson, who taught fifth grade for forty-one years.
Two hundred and seventeen former students, now grown, recording from kitchens and offices and locker rooms across the country.
For Gloria, who became an American citizen on Friday.
Her family back in Manila, the ESL teacher who walked her through the test, the immigration attorney, the friend who gave her the ride.
For little Sam, four years old, having his tonsils out tomorrow.
Grandma in Boise, grandpa in Tampa, both godparents, the soccer team, and the cousin who taught him every silly face he knows.
For Bishop Charles, retiring after thirty-eight years of ministry.
Every couple he married. Every family he buried alongside. The choir that has sung him through every Easter since 1989.
For Diane, ninety-six and the last of her sisters.
Three generations of nieces and nephews she has held together, all of them with the same Sunday afternoon free for once in their lives.
For Pastor Adam, on the Sunday he turns fifty.
Every Stephen Minister he has trained. Every confirmation class. Every casserole-bringer. The grown children of the children he baptized.
"Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God."
Matthew 5:9
A blessing for everyone who gathers a community for one of its own.