The Lord is In

Twenty-five or thirty years ago a parishioner friend out for a walk was mugged, roughed up and robbed at gunpoint with one of the accomplices shrieking, “shoot him, shoot him,” but I never felt uneasy or threatened here even out after dark, at least in this quarter of town. Memory escapes me, but Dean may foolishly have been “over on the Hill” at the time. I feel safe, but it nevertheless seems wise to be alert and cautious. 

There was a long era when Trinity Church was open round the clock for visitors and people to come in for peace, to pray, meditate, sit, rest. And when old-time residents who were my parishioners thought nothing of driving off to see relatives in Ohio for a couple of weeks, leaving their house on Avenue E Chestnut Street US98 unlocked and the back door standing open. Still pitch black out when I went into the church just now, I used a key to enter through the sacristy; but walking to the front to fetch a bulletin for tomorrow, I glanced over to the main front door and it appeared to be slightly ajar, unlocked. Later when I checked, it was.

This is an interesting town, church, place to live, whose aura of Being seems never to change even with its metamorphosis from tiny fishing village to tourist boutique.

TJCC are due to arrive from Tallahassee about noon and return home tomorrow after church and lunch. Where should we take them for lunch? The Owl? Up the Creek Raw Bar? There are restaurants I’ve never been in even living here those years. One, at the western edge of town, was called the RedTop. Years ago, he told me, Barnum and Betty, when he was rector and they lived in this rectory, used to phone the RedTop and order “Two and two.” Soon, two hamburgers and two bottles of beer would be delivered to the front door, and they would go upstairs and have supper sitting on the front porch balcony off the front bedroom. That apparently was a day and age when even the Episcopal minister wasn’t seen with Episcopal Beverage in hand. It was a while back: summer 1946 when I was ten years old, I went to Camp Weed for the first time and Barnum, 17, was my cabin leader. So I reckon we’re talking early 1950s.

The Lord Is in His Holy Temple. When we arrived here in 1984, that sign was badly faded, and in the late 1980s or early 90s I contracted with an artist to retouch it. Still Looking Good. I couldn't remember how to turn it on, but the outside lights playing on those stained glass windows are spectacular.

My sister's surgery started early yesterday morning and was still going on early afternoon. The surgeon said all went well. The last report I had was after nine o'clock last night, she was in the CVICU waking up and being weaned off the ventilator. Haven't had a report this morning. Thanks, appreciation, and blessings upon all for prayers and love.

DThos+