Red Stoles and the Sunrise
It isn't confidence but near desperation to again make direct for the blogger site's blank page instead of casually, leisurely, taking my time with a Pages or Word sheet to draft a muse that represents my place in the universe for another day on earth.
Beginning with our drive home from Tallahassee a week ago this moment, existence has been uptight. Drive, not too bad but Sunday with Tass & JCC over the Atlantic in one of those things that goes high and makes noise. Then something most every moment all week, including second appointment for problem right ear, ear drum with a hole in it making the rest of the world sound like a brass band marching by, with the brass and drum sections right beside me. Or was it constant heavy Atlanta traffic and everybody blowing their damn horn and waving. IDK.
Two sermons, one to preach in Chipley this morning, the other to preach twice at HNEC tomorrow morning, Palm Sunday, the Sunday of the Passion. The one's been in process for weeks, about got it down. The other? Anon, anon.
For breakfast, a stuffed egg, one of my favorite things, reminds me of picnics as a boy, seems like we always took fried chicken and stuffed eggs. Okay, deviled eggs.
About sermons. At some theological seminaries, mine for one, homiletics professor required we bring two typed manuscripts, one to hand him, the other with which to step into the pulpit. At other seminaries, including Virginia seminary where I did about a third of my seminary program, homiletics professor was dreaded by all because he allowed not even one note be taken into the pulpit. At still others, the student preaching had to stand not in any pulpit but at the head of the aisle, with or without notes in hand. For sure, it was all good training.
Time for that egg, then shower and dress for the day. Red stoles.
DThos+
Beginning with our drive home from Tallahassee a week ago this moment, existence has been uptight. Drive, not too bad but Sunday with Tass & JCC over the Atlantic in one of those things that goes high and makes noise. Then something most every moment all week, including second appointment for problem right ear, ear drum with a hole in it making the rest of the world sound like a brass band marching by, with the brass and drum sections right beside me. Or was it constant heavy Atlanta traffic and everybody blowing their damn horn and waving. IDK.
Two sermons, one to preach in Chipley this morning, the other to preach twice at HNEC tomorrow morning, Palm Sunday, the Sunday of the Passion. The one's been in process for weeks, about got it down. The other? Anon, anon.
For breakfast, a stuffed egg, one of my favorite things, reminds me of picnics as a boy, seems like we always took fried chicken and stuffed eggs. Okay, deviled eggs.
About sermons. At some theological seminaries, mine for one, homiletics professor required we bring two typed manuscripts, one to hand him, the other with which to step into the pulpit. At other seminaries, including Virginia seminary where I did about a third of my seminary program, homiletics professor was dreaded by all because he allowed not even one note be taken into the pulpit. At still others, the student preaching had to stand not in any pulpit but at the head of the aisle, with or without notes in hand. For sure, it was all good training.
Time for that egg, then shower and dress for the day. Red stoles.
DThos+