Monday of Holy Week

Under some pressure, here...THINGS on the list in all sorts of areas.

Yesterday went fine, I think, despite a classic "Jesus died for this?" moment just before the service began. Never mind, he did...

The fresh palm branches were rescued from their newspaper wrappings in time to adorn the chancel banisters and be "divvied up" for the better waving during the Palm procession. None of the palm-waving children actually put anybody's EYE out during the procession, although their ambition to lap the choir had to be suppressed. Fortunately the Rambler is broad enough in the beam to block effectively in the narrow side aisles.

We sang all the traditional things -- "All Glory, Laud and Honour" down to "There Is A Green Hill".

The readers for the Passion according to Matthew did beautifully, including the new bass in the choir who was willing to read Jesus' part, and did so in the most moving Southern (Baptist, no less!) accent.

I shamelessly stole a thought from Towanda, upon whom be peace, as the hinge of my sermon: about being "found wanting"...and learning just to BE found wanting and sit still with that in Holy Week. There were big dollops of Evelyn Underhill also...

And my good and dear friend from 40 years back was in church -- she had been in town all weekend at a conference at Local University. Number One Son collected her from her B&B and brought her to church ... I think she last met him when he was three, perhaps? (He didn't drive, in those days....) They are now, in some sense, academic colleagues in that their areas of interest and expertise overlap, fruitfully.

We were able to go and have a nice brunch in Favourite Restaurant with all the family before taking her back to the airport.

Home again, and enough residual energy to make decent Sunday supper (salmon and rice and veggies), and to get the dishes washed, and the garbage and recycle all out to the curb before we turned in.

Good sleep and lots of it. Taffeta cat came to get me up for breakfast and we negotiated over the last of her "dreadlocks". It was matted so close to her skin that there really wasn't room to attack it safely with the scissors...but when she decided to stomp away in a huff I took the risk of just holding on...and she walked out from under it and left it in my hand, HURRAY! I think we'll celebrate by getting her a new brush.

Sun is shining, temperature is rising, the weekend snowfall is melting away...