The Second Sunday of Epiphany, 2019
Arrived very early to 10:00 Mass (like, at 9:00) in the mistaken belief that our theater troupe had a rehearsal. It's next week and represents only the latest instance of my not quite being "with it" mentally. One nice thing about it was that I bumped into Colette on her way in for Choir practice. She called out to me fro underneath an umbrella as I was crossing the street and, at first, I could not tell where her voice was coming from. Realizing I was as helpless as a bat at that hour of the morning, she kept repeating my name until I was able to hone in on the source of the sound waves. She was right in front of me the entire time.
She was in good spirits following her husband's one-man show/fundraiser the previous Thursday. It was pure Bing. A spiritual successor of P.G. Wodehouse, E. B. White and, maybe, a little bit of Jack Paar thrown in for good measure, Bing uses his singing voice to take his audience on a carraige tour of his life, the life of his immediate family and the life of his church, St. Michael's. I don't think the whole thing took more than hour and yet I was as transported at the end of it as I might have at the end of a counselig session. It was pure love.
I spent the rest of the morning in the lower sacristy listening to the acolytes as they came in and groused about the weather and other things as they donned their robes and surplices. Juanita was there, too. I think she lives in the Lower Sacristy. She prefers to eat breakfast there to having it in the privacy of her own home which is only a few blocks away. Suffice it to say, nothing kept her from carrying on a full conversation the entire time, mostly about the Education For Ministry classes that are coming up. If I am not careful, she will have me put into her section of the class.
Service went fast. It was a "Jazz Mass" with a small piece band in attendance along with the Choir. Their rendition of "Deep River" is memorable, but, the instrumentalists really swung into high gear after The Bendiction with some skillful improvisation.
Simon sat one pew in back of me. Later, Frank called me into Coffee Hour where he and Simon waited to be joined by other YAs on the way to their monthly brunch. I get the feeling I am only a month away from being invited to come along with them. Simon listened intently as I recounted the bruncn date Frank and I shared the week before and even managed a few words of sympathy with my having to finish an opened bottle of perseco all by myself.
And, before I knew it, there it was. There was the connection I have felt all along between us. He's another adult child of an alcoholic parent.
She was in good spirits following her husband's one-man show/fundraiser the previous Thursday. It was pure Bing. A spiritual successor of P.G. Wodehouse, E. B. White and, maybe, a little bit of Jack Paar thrown in for good measure, Bing uses his singing voice to take his audience on a carraige tour of his life, the life of his immediate family and the life of his church, St. Michael's. I don't think the whole thing took more than hour and yet I was as transported at the end of it as I might have at the end of a counselig session. It was pure love.
I spent the rest of the morning in the lower sacristy listening to the acolytes as they came in and groused about the weather and other things as they donned their robes and surplices. Juanita was there, too. I think she lives in the Lower Sacristy. She prefers to eat breakfast there to having it in the privacy of her own home which is only a few blocks away. Suffice it to say, nothing kept her from carrying on a full conversation the entire time, mostly about the Education For Ministry classes that are coming up. If I am not careful, she will have me put into her section of the class.
Service went fast. It was a "Jazz Mass" with a small piece band in attendance along with the Choir. Their rendition of "Deep River" is memorable, but, the instrumentalists really swung into high gear after The Bendiction with some skillful improvisation.
Simon sat one pew in back of me. Later, Frank called me into Coffee Hour where he and Simon waited to be joined by other YAs on the way to their monthly brunch. I get the feeling I am only a month away from being invited to come along with them. Simon listened intently as I recounted the bruncn date Frank and I shared the week before and even managed a few words of sympathy with my having to finish an opened bottle of perseco all by myself.
And, before I knew it, there it was. There was the connection I have felt all along between us. He's another adult child of an alcoholic parent.