Are we There yet?
Are we There yet?
Maybe I’m There and don’t realize it, seeing that all day yesterday I thought about my brother’s birthday and waited for something to happen so I could text or email him news as well as birthday wishes, but nothing happened and there was no news and I didn’t until this morning, five hours late. And etcetera &c.
Was & once the 27th letter of our alphabet, or was it 26th as “X, Y, &, Z”? And why would it have been lost, dropped? This is the kind of thing one worries about when one is There.
The last person I remember observing as being There was, this memory told here at least once before, the once respected man of the house, a retired priest living with his wife in their home on the grounds at Sewanee. She ran it as a B&B where I stayed once while taking the renewal weekend for my EfM mentor certification. Pleasant though always the exact same muffin and cup of instant coffee for the second B of B&B. Years ago in human time. The old priest, somewhere in his eighties I reckoned, died now years ago, never came out to speak to us, never acknowledged us, was never heard from, only was observed, during daylight hours, always sitting in a rocking chair in the center of the living room, a Bible in his lap. Maybe I’m There, but with a MacBook in my lap. Why did this come to mind? Because I have three roosting places here in 7H. My chair by the Bay window in the living room. My chair in the Den end of the Bay bedroom. This my chair in the Beck bedroom where I am now, upholstered in blue velvet, years in my mother’s house and now mine, floor lamp over my left shoulder, feet on carpet, ultimate comfort for an octogenarian. Am I There yet?
We have a busy day ahead, drive across the bridge to PCB, on out to Laguna Beach.
Linda will browse at the Carousel and in their gift shop while I call on a couple who were parishioners my five years as priest at StThomasbytheSea. The couple live across the street from where my eighth grade teacher Virginia Parker lived all those years. Miss Parker and the couple were friends. Last week she called to tell me he is now under hospice care at home. Haven't seen them in years. Pastoral call.
Then back to Carousel, walk through their bountiful wine section, maybe browse the Islay single-malt scotches in the package store. IDK, maybe stop by FreshMarket for shrimp on the way home. It isn't multi-tasking and task to task to task as it was my Navy years and early parish ministry: one main focused event makes a busy day for one who is There.
DThos+ in +Time+
Maybe I’m There and don’t realize it, seeing that all day yesterday I thought about my brother’s birthday and waited for something to happen so I could text or email him news as well as birthday wishes, but nothing happened and there was no news and I didn’t until this morning, five hours late. And etcetera &c.
Was & once the 27th letter of our alphabet, or was it 26th as “X, Y, &, Z”? And why would it have been lost, dropped? This is the kind of thing one worries about when one is There.
The last person I remember observing as being There was, this memory told here at least once before, the once respected man of the house, a retired priest living with his wife in their home on the grounds at Sewanee. She ran it as a B&B where I stayed once while taking the renewal weekend for my EfM mentor certification. Pleasant though always the exact same muffin and cup of instant coffee for the second B of B&B. Years ago in human time. The old priest, somewhere in his eighties I reckoned, died now years ago, never came out to speak to us, never acknowledged us, was never heard from, only was observed, during daylight hours, always sitting in a rocking chair in the center of the living room, a Bible in his lap. Maybe I’m There, but with a MacBook in my lap. Why did this come to mind? Because I have three roosting places here in 7H. My chair by the Bay window in the living room. My chair in the Den end of the Bay bedroom. This my chair in the Beck bedroom where I am now, upholstered in blue velvet, years in my mother’s house and now mine, floor lamp over my left shoulder, feet on carpet, ultimate comfort for an octogenarian. Am I There yet?
We have a busy day ahead, drive across the bridge to PCB, on out to Laguna Beach.
Linda will browse at the Carousel and in their gift shop while I call on a couple who were parishioners my five years as priest at StThomasbytheSea. The couple live across the street from where my eighth grade teacher Virginia Parker lived all those years. Miss Parker and the couple were friends. Last week she called to tell me he is now under hospice care at home. Haven't seen them in years. Pastoral call.
Then back to Carousel, walk through their bountiful wine section, maybe browse the Islay single-malt scotches in the package store. IDK, maybe stop by FreshMarket for shrimp on the way home. It isn't multi-tasking and task to task to task as it was my Navy years and early parish ministry: one main focused event makes a busy day for one who is There.
DThos+ in +Time+