As June 1st drew nearer, I didn't worry about writing my sermon. I knew what my message should be and trusted that the words would flow as needed. What I didn't take into account were the tensions and stresses of my job and the household schedule, crammed with soccer practices and various social obligations that left me, a true introvert, unable to recharge my batteries.
By 4:00 p.m. on May 31, I was muttering to myself about having to go to yet another function: my sister-in-law's 40th birthday.
By 4:00 p.m. on May 31, I was muttering to myself about having to go to yet another function: my sister-in-law's 40th birthday.
Armed with a Jackson-Triggs White Merlot and with every intention of an early departure, I waded in.
We've had a long, snowy winter and a cold, wet spring, but this particular evening was bright with the promise of summer. We sat on a sunny patio overlooking a wide expanse of green lawn down to the river. Somehow my glass remained full through the celebration and by the time I got home, although it was only 9:30, I was in no shape to write.
"Fetch me some chips," I commanded my husband, and he drove to Safeway. In my reckoning, the grease and the alcohol would bind at some elemental level, leaving me more than ready to write the perfect sermon.
At 10:03 I was asleep; at 1:42 I was awake, in the bathroom, bowels in a knot, but my mind strangely ready to work. At 5:40 I polished the last sentence and tucked myself back into bed.
As we headed to church a few hours later, my only fear was that the overhead fans might waft any lingering alcohol fumes from my person to the sensitive noses of the ladies in the far pews. Actually, I was nervous, but I had been scared sober.
And my service? Well, the response was gratifying. I had worked some things out in that sermon, and was delivering from a point of authority and purpose. There is nothing like a little nervousness to help you live fully in the moment.
I also realized that although I have attended a thousand and one church services, I had never noticed what the minister does while the collection is being taken.
I was particularly pleased with one thought that came to me: on this type of journey, a change of attitude is more important than a change of clothing.
At this point, I think I need both. I was excited to begin this blog in June...and now that I am on summer break, with time theoretically at my disposal, I am reluctant to unpack for my journey.
Why?
