by Rev. Cindy McCalmont

The only reason I had my blood pressure taken Sunday morning was because I wanted to help Mattie, our parish nurse. Mattie is doing a research project this summer that has her taking as many blood pressure readings for our congregation as she can. Truth be told, I had a bit of a smug attitude as she wrapped the cuff around my arm—my blood pressure is always normal.

Until Sunday morning when it wasn’t.

“Huh,” Mattie said, “the cuff is showing atrial fibrillation. Let me take another reading.” As she wrapped my arm a second time, the voices of Sara Thomsen and Paula Pedersen floated in from the Pride concert outside on the north steps of the sanctuary.

After Mattie confirmed the first reading hadn’t been a fluke, she walked me through what atrial fibrillation is and what I needed to do. Before the day was over, I’d had an EKG at the Urgency Room in Woodbury, was prescribed Eliquis, and given a referral to a cardiologist.

On the face of it, I’m writing these words to encourage you to take advantage of Mattie’s presence with us this summer. I can personally attest to her competence and compassion.

But I’m also writing to point out a fundamental spiritual truth: the church isn’t just a place where we learn to give care; it’s a place where we learn to receive it too.