A mysterious green Lands’ End windbreaker has landed in our coat closet at home.  We have no idea to whom it belongs, but it had this lovely card in its pocket:

It reads, “Happy Mother’s Day.  Enough of the hospital.”  Two lines, but what a narrative!  I imagine some consumption-bound mother, weakly greeting her eager children as they visit her at her bedside.  We would love to reunite this jacket, and this Mother’s Day card with its owner, so let us know if you have any ideas!

Dudes, I totally forgot to say that my next door neighbors had their baby on Wednesday.  Matt woke me up Wednesday morning with a post it note that another neighbor had left on my door that announced his birth. What a great way to wake up!  I left our clergy conference a day early on Tuesday.  I just couldn’t relax and missed home, but now I think the baby was secretly calling me. I got to meet him when he was only about seven hours old! He is awesome and his parents are wonderful and excited.  They come home today.  

Twice this week we’ve had really intense thunderstorms.  NBC pre-empted all my fun Thursday night shows to tell us that the sky was falling, which was a bummer.  We watched the first installment of the John Adams mini-series instead.  SO GOOD.  Eventually the thunderstorms were so intense that we were under a tornado warning.  I hid under the coffee table half-heartedly while Matt played Mario-kart.  I wanted to hide in the coat closet, but I would have had to remove the vacuum and that would have been a pain.

The thunderstorms have revealed something new to us about our pooch, though.  He is TERRIFIED of thunder and lightning.  He paces, he whines, he tries to get on the couch, and his whole body trembles.  Poor little guy!  I know you’re not supposed to coddle scared dogs, but I couldn’t help at least sitting on the floor and snuggling with him a bit.  My favorite part is when my feet were on the coffee table, with a blanket over my legs and the dog hid under the blanket.  Poor Matt took him outside to use the bathroom one last time before bed RIGHT as the skies opened even more.  The dog wouldn’t pee and Matt got completely drenched.  Live and learn.

I don’t know whether it is the smell of terror or of the rawhide he ate yesterday, but Henry is also releasing the foulest gas I’ve ever smelled right now.  I’m trying to write a sermon about the Holy Spirit and this is not setting the mood.

I got the above note from a beloved parishioner the first day Chuck was gone on sabbatical.  Isn’t it wonderful?

And, man, did I need to hear it.  The transition to being “in charge” has been much more challenging than I expected!  I had found a rhythm at work the last year or so and really fell into a comfortable pattern–I knew when in the week I would write my sermon, when I would go on visits, when I would make phone calls, when I would do administrative work. . .all that has gone out the window.  I’ve tried to explain the difference to a couple people.  The closest analogy I can come up with is that before the sabbatical my work was very linear, I was able to do one thing, then the next thing, then the next thing.  Now, I feel like rather than my work being a line, it is more of a basket–I am keeping track of a lot more things and all at the same time.  I think I’ll get used to it, I just did not expect this much of a transition!  I need more brain cells to remember who is in the hospital, who is graduating from high school, when all the meetings are, where we are with parking lot building, who is leading what for Vacation Bible School, etc., etc.

Today was my first Sunday alone and it went okay.  During the second service, I got really light headed and my sermon started going in and out of focus and I broke out in a sweat.  This happens occasionally, I’m not sure if it is a blood sugar thing or an overheating thing.  It only happens when I’m vested.  I think it is the weird transition between it being too cold for AC, but warm enough to get uncomfortable.  Anyway, I got woozy, but made it through the sermon, and asked an acolyte to get me some lemonade, which he did immediately without any questions.

During the final hymn, a retired priest and his wife handed me a ziplock of homemade peanut butter crackers and told me to eat up and then he said the dismissal for me.  Apparently they are both prone to the same blood sugar dips I am, so keep the bag around for just such an emergency.  I felt SO LOVED by their help.  They gave it in a completely understanding and non-patronizing way.

So, yes, today I learned I am not alone this summer.  Not by a long shot.  I also learned that when you feel faint in the middle of a service, some percentage of the church assumes you’re pregnant.  I am not.  I promise.