1. Something about this long season of Pentecost is moving me to tears during worship at St. Mary's. It's the Pentecost season, the season of The Ordinary. No big events. Jesus doesn't get crucified. The resurrection is over. No ascension into heaven. No birth of Jesus. We are living in the aftermath of the Holy Spirit's visitation at Antioch. It's a long season of ordinariness in the church. And, inexplicably, it's getting to me. I just sat there quietly weeping during worship -- quietly weeping during this long, uneventful, quiet time in the rhythm of the Anglican year. It's as if I were watching the Red Sox play the Rangers on a Wednesday evening in May at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington in a slow game and in the fourth inning of a game where nothing was happening, with one out, Josh Hamilton hit a routine chopper to Dustin Pedroia who fielded it cleanly and threw out Hamilton by fifteen feet, and I was moved to tears by such a routine baseball moment. I'll quote SK: Go Figure.
2. After worship concluded, Bishop Thornton invited us up to the Parish Hall for a July Fourth lunch of hot dogs, cole slaw, four bean casserole, watermelon, cold drinks, and dessert. I got to chat with Beth Booth, Harry Hance, and Les Breidenthal, making this July Fourth lunch a deep pleasure.
3. Speaking of deep pleasures, Anne and Russell and Allie invited me over for dinner. On the third, while out shooting photos, Russell and I went to the Market of Choice meat counter and I bought a perfect T-bone steak and this evening Russell charcoal grilled it up just right and along with sweet corn on the cob, a fresh salad, Hawaiian sweet bread, some Broken Halo IPA, and relaxing, generous hosts, I enjoyed the Fourth of July, as we used to say, to the max.
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