One Sunday, in my church, during the final blessing, I began to think about the moment that would follow, the handshakes, the small talk, and I wished that this moment would pass quickly so that I could finally go home, to my hiding place. And it continues on the way home, as I walk along the dusty lanes, passing a few neighbours. I whisper a brief greeting to those I can't avoid and pretend not to see the others. Because I'm tired; tired of greeting, smiling, asking or giving news, tired of interacting. My excuse is that I'm introverted, shy, I'm a homebody. I never asked myself what impact this behavior might have on the people around me.
Then I had the opportunity to spend some time in a diverse community of God's children. A community where we bump into each other, not just on Sundays, but practically every day in the corridors, in the dining room, just about everywhere.

