HEARD NOT AT CHURCH

In the beginning, the elohim created skies and earth.

Welcome back. Let's talk about church guilt.

I didn't go last week because I injured my foot. I decided to stay off of it since it was my first full week of school.  I so wanted to go because my pastor had been on sabbatical for a few weeks.  It was his first day back in the pulpit.

He's no faith healer, so I took a day off.

Today, I did not go for a different reason.  Last week was my first week of school.  Just about every public school teacher in the nation is already way behind right now, including yours truly.

I had so much to do to get caught up. I chose not to go today.

Of course, I felt guilty and a tad cross about missing church again. When I lived with my parents, we the children attended church Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night visitation, and Saturday night youth group. Church was the center of all things social on Signal Mountain.

I so terribly miss it when I do not go for so many reasons. I love the people there. It's always nice to see people who are truly good and with whom I have a special connection.

About that connection, I have a story to share.

I surprised one of my fellow church members last Friday night. Some of the faculty members invited me to join them in their annual first Friday gathering.  It only happens once a school year, so I could not miss it.

They wanted to convene at a nearby pub to discuss the unbearable lightness of education. As I mounted the stairs, I saw my friend with his office group sitting on the deck. He did not recognize me at first. 

After I said, "Hello," he still could not place me. I grinned at him and said his name.  He recognized me then.  I have a distinctive way of grinning at people.

He introduced me to everyone. One well imbibed, gregarious bald man among his number commented on my University of Tennessee button down shirt.

"Think they'll be any good this year?" he asked.

Like I do every year, about this time, I predicted that they would be undefeated and win the national championship.  

They were all Georgia fans so they got a good dawg howl out of that.

We chatted for a while until one from my own group came out to the deck and tried to pull me away.  I patted my church friend on the shoulder. "I'll see you later, my brother," I said.

It felt truly special to say that to someone whom I barely know, yet is family to me.

That is what church is, and it can happen anywhere.

Nonetheless, there's nothing like being in a sanctuary with high ceilings, singing voices, and divine fugues blowing out of organ pipes...and then the homily. 

Blessings...