The Third Sunday of Lent, 2019
The Deacon gave another outstanding sermon on Sunday although the only thing I can recall from it is the little joke he made at the begining about being chosen to give a sermon about "fig trees and manure". He seems fully recovered from what.was ailing him a month or so ago when he skipped the men's retreat. And, regardless of what the sermon was about, people seemed to receive it very well.
The Rector was away, doing elder care along with the children.That left Frontpage looking rather forlorn in his usual place in the Little Chapel. I regretted not staking out a place there, but, when I saw him earlier, bringing the family's new dog in from a morning walk, it had never occurred to me that he was home alone (although, the lack of a responsible child on the other end of the leash should have been a clue.)
Instead, I found myself sitting next to Huggy Bear Two, the young lad who was such a hit at the retreat. He's very likeable and approachable and seems to have no problem getting dates, although, getting them to attend church with him is another matter entrely. Not sure if that's a deal-breaker, but, I'll keep an eye on it.
Neither Simon nor Matt were anywhere to be seen.
The bulk of the morning belonged to Colette and to Paradise, the latter exhibiting increasing signs of decline. But, first Coletle came over for a moment while Huggy Bear Two and I stood chatting after the Benediction. She has been a real addition to the congregation since she went AWOL from the Choir. Not sure what is going on there; Bing is still up in the Choir loft while Colette sits, often alone, amongst us. She is easily the most vivacious straight, white woman I have ever met. Was she always ike this or does it come from decades of success at living, creating and raising a warm, loving family? After all, she has one son married and another one on deck. The urge to do a little victory dance whenever she moves must be enormous. Also, I noticed where Crosby gets his eyes; they are a deeper purple gray version of his mother's.
Paradise, OTOH, is a wreck. He now walks with a cane and the complaints about "Arthur Ritis" have evolved into an enumeration of afflicted lumbar beginning at his neck and seemingly ending somewhere at his big toe. And, it doesn't stop there. Once he gets started, he cannot stop talking. The Elders Table has turned into a virtual RC session of one-way time for Paradise. I was even dressed down ever so subtly by BIlbo Baggins for interrrupting Paradise who was now on his twelfth shaggy dog story involving some relative of his none of us had ever met, by inquiring "And, what's new with you?" Bilbo's answer was a perfunctory "Nothing much. I'm just listening to what [Paradise] has to say." And that was that. I was effecively put in my place. So much for trying to facilitate the Elders Table.
I made my excuses and gradually made my way to Shirley Booth and Barbara Rush, who were in the middle of an intense brainstorming session. Here, I didn't mind listening unobtrusively. I adored the subject matter. They were discussing theater.
The Rector was away, doing elder care along with the children.That left Frontpage looking rather forlorn in his usual place in the Little Chapel. I regretted not staking out a place there, but, when I saw him earlier, bringing the family's new dog in from a morning walk, it had never occurred to me that he was home alone (although, the lack of a responsible child on the other end of the leash should have been a clue.)
Instead, I found myself sitting next to Huggy Bear Two, the young lad who was such a hit at the retreat. He's very likeable and approachable and seems to have no problem getting dates, although, getting them to attend church with him is another matter entrely. Not sure if that's a deal-breaker, but, I'll keep an eye on it.
Neither Simon nor Matt were anywhere to be seen.
The bulk of the morning belonged to Colette and to Paradise, the latter exhibiting increasing signs of decline. But, first Coletle came over for a moment while Huggy Bear Two and I stood chatting after the Benediction. She has been a real addition to the congregation since she went AWOL from the Choir. Not sure what is going on there; Bing is still up in the Choir loft while Colette sits, often alone, amongst us. She is easily the most vivacious straight, white woman I have ever met. Was she always ike this or does it come from decades of success at living, creating and raising a warm, loving family? After all, she has one son married and another one on deck. The urge to do a little victory dance whenever she moves must be enormous. Also, I noticed where Crosby gets his eyes; they are a deeper purple gray version of his mother's.
Paradise, OTOH, is a wreck. He now walks with a cane and the complaints about "Arthur Ritis" have evolved into an enumeration of afflicted lumbar beginning at his neck and seemingly ending somewhere at his big toe. And, it doesn't stop there. Once he gets started, he cannot stop talking. The Elders Table has turned into a virtual RC session of one-way time for Paradise. I was even dressed down ever so subtly by BIlbo Baggins for interrrupting Paradise who was now on his twelfth shaggy dog story involving some relative of his none of us had ever met, by inquiring "And, what's new with you?" Bilbo's answer was a perfunctory "Nothing much. I'm just listening to what [Paradise] has to say." And that was that. I was effecively put in my place. So much for trying to facilitate the Elders Table.
I made my excuses and gradually made my way to Shirley Booth and Barbara Rush, who were in the middle of an intense brainstorming session. Here, I didn't mind listening unobtrusively. I adored the subject matter. They were discussing theater.