Extreme Outreach (Part 1)
Intersection was rather extraordinary on several levels. Firstly, it was Father Sam's last as a celebrant. He has a new gig in western Massachusetts and everyone is wishing him godspeed. Secondly, it was my first appearance in over a month. It was a completely spontaneous decision spurred mainly by a spirit of forgiveness toward Eleanor Roosevelt. I've decided I don't necessarily want her dead though, I will continue to give her a wide berth. With this attitude adjustment, I felt prepared to receive the Lord's body and blood into my own weak and imperfect vessel.
My one possible obstacle hesitation was whether Crosby would make an appearance. Ever since a bad, off-handed, exchange of words, I have been in full retreat; I feel now that the countdown for his Camino is in full swing, that no good can come from the pursuit of some sort of imagined relationship. I had decided to sit on my lead at all costs.
So, as I sat in the darkest spot I could find in the sanctuary, clothed almost completely in black (I broke the never mix navy blue with black rule), I waited, patiently watching the substitute pianist (our music director was in France along with the St. Michael's Choir) set up and rustle papers together. I was so sketchy looking that as I got up to finish drinking my DD coffee, standing behind a large column, that even Omar came over to ask if everything was "okay." Omar, you have to understand, is our sextant. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Erich von Stroheim, the German film director and character actor. By 6:00 I was sure Crosby was not arriving.
My one possible obstacle hesitation was whether Crosby would make an appearance. Ever since a bad, off-handed, exchange of words, I have been in full retreat; I feel now that the countdown for his Camino is in full swing, that no good can come from the pursuit of some sort of imagined relationship. I had decided to sit on my lead at all costs.
So, as I sat in the darkest spot I could find in the sanctuary, clothed almost completely in black (I broke the never mix navy blue with black rule), I waited, patiently watching the substitute pianist (our music director was in France along with the St. Michael's Choir) set up and rustle papers together. I was so sketchy looking that as I got up to finish drinking my DD coffee, standing behind a large column, that even Omar came over to ask if everything was "okay." Omar, you have to understand, is our sextant. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Erich von Stroheim, the German film director and character actor. By 6:00 I was sure Crosby was not arriving.