mitre & purple PJs
Overcast and 49° at the moment. And dark, predawn. As predawn as 5:10 can be, light will appear shortly unless the sun drowned as it dropped into the Gulf of Mexico last evening. Black and dark here in my chair, sip and melt. Blanket over knees, pensioner who’s seen best days. And nights.
Day of our bishop’s — “visitation” is what we call it. Everyone looks forward to it even if “visitation” calls to mind the visions of Ebenezer Scrooge. Pajama Sunday as well, kids and some older in PJs and bringing for a child, a Christmas gift, book, toy, or a new pair of pajamas. Backpacks, Pajamas, Shell Island, something every month, Celebration every Sunday and Wednesday, a high tradition every season. Will there be Sunday School today? Well, if anyone comes, but with the bishop’s visitation we have a tasty brunch that involves all the tables.
Traditions - - fun customs really, as the word “tradition” tends to have theological implications in Anglicanism, the Episcopal Church - - vary by parish, diocese, Time. For Bishop Duvall we always gathered a huge Sunday School class and he told his story, a new story for every year’s round of parish calls. In Pennsylvania our bishop always came to visit and confirm on Easter Even. Also, that bishop lived just down the block from our church, had an uncommitted Sunday from time to time, and was always liable to be sitting out in the congregation with Alice and the girls when one stepped into the pulpit …
In the early 1950s, with his shock of white hair, Bishop Juhan always arrived in his black 1950 Buick Super sedan -- which I with my judgmental ways thought more seemly than the RC bishop in his chauffeur-driven Cadillac limousine.
Anyway, it’s Sunday, not our day, the Lord’s Day, all ways all good. Come, see and taste.