Canto V:Homesick It’s always worse when the door that slams is made of glass for you can still see inside   “Give us clean hands give us pure hearts…” the music fades as the pastor raises his hands for the closing benediction As the rows break up into little knots of people I wander outside to the shuttle van and climb inside   “So, how was it?” Mr. Knutson ask   “Good,” I answer squeezing to the back and buckling in “Still not used to virtual pastors And my home church was much smaller.”   Others climb in and I lean forward to speak up “I guess it takes some getting used to”   “I felt the same way last year,” one of the girls says “But I like it now it’s exciting worshiping with so many people”   “Is this everyone?” Arnold asks   “Sarah went home with her cousin,” Anne offers “But I think we have everyone else”   “Could you turn  on the radio?” Chris yells “I want to hear the big game”   Mr. Knutson turns the knob “…lost in a sea of faces… Ah! 1st down, five and goal…”   The six words stick in my mind lost in a sea of faces   Vilinye had written of being “goldfish in the Pacific” And when the fish sees a pond to return to it forgets that ponds are larger than fishbowls   Church is a pond— even a lake where is my cozy fishbowl?   Oh, everyone says ‘Think outside the box’ But home is a box too and if you stay outside in the rain you get sick