Saint and Sinner

Tonight was the night: I delivered the "meditation" for church this evening (remember?). Church was at 7:00 P.M., and the girls generally have dance class until 7:30 P.M. on Thursdays; but they wanted to hear Daddy "preach," so Susan got them out early and brought them to the service. They sat in the second pew directly in front of me and kept their eyes on me the entire 10 minutes or so that I spoke. Afterward I asked them what they "got out of" what I had said, and they quoted me verbatim as well as summarized my message quite accurately. Clearly they were listening attentively!

I gave an extended response to the question, "Why are you participating in the Walk to Jerusalem?" My answer started with stories about Dad and Beverly's dog Bandy and about Happy, our dog on the farm when my sisters and I were kids. Yep, stories about dogs! My point had to do with blazing trails and leaving footsteps for others to follow in if you want them to come along, and I connected that to living a Christian life so that your children will, too; to participating in projects at church so that other members of the congregation will, too; and to following Jesus and the path that He has laid out for us all and asked us to walk with one another and with Him. Lots of layers of metaphor in my "sermon," but I think I got my point(s) across.

After an early evening of heavenly behavior (I mean, really: me? preaching?!), Susan and I returned home and were surprised by a telephone invitation to behave devilishly! Our friend David was in town with a university choir for which he is the accompanist, and he remembered that we live here and phoned to see if we'd like to get together for a beverage, some snacks, and some catching up. He is hilarious and pulls no punches when it comes to sharing his opinions about the people and events in his stories. It was fun to reconnect with him after several years of no contact.

P.S. Three months after my last haircut, I finally made time to go get my locks chopped this afternoon. Our hair stylist took me at my word when I said that I wanted it short; I look as though my National Guard unit has just been reactivated! It's a statement both about how long my hair had become and about how short it is now that I get the shivers from the feel of perfectly temperate air on the back of my neck.