Like: Because I forgot to put some water in the fridge, I didn't have anything cold to drink. So I put a bottle in the freezer for a quick chill. Knowing I would forget about it, I set the timer on the stove, because we know that liquid freezes and can sometimes break the container that it's in. And then I thought about the cocker spaniel puppy we had when I was a kid that got locked up in the smokehouse and got drunk on some homemade wine my daddy made, because the jar froze and burst in the winter time. Then I thought about the switches that my parents would cut (to stripe my legs!) from the bushes outside that smokehouse. That lead to thinking of one time when we were kids and my brother told my parents he got bit by a kitten, and his finger was bleeding. But the "kitten" was a tiny mouse that he found in a little nest underneath a bush out by the front of our house. One thought just lead to another.
So, when I found myself thinking about my brother's bleeding finger, I traced my thoughts back to my unchilled bottle of water. Frozen things break containers. Puppy dog got drunk from a burst container of homemade wine. Bushes that grew outside the smokehouse had some awfully wicked switches. Bushes in front of another house were home to a nest of mice. My brother got bit by one of them. Bloody finger.
More often than not, these days, I can never make it back to the original thought that launched me to wherever I find myself. Either I get distracted, or I stinkin' forget what the thought was that I was trying to trace. Oh the joys of getting older!!!!
And now, I'm frustrated because I can't even remember why "retracing my thoughts" was an important introduction to this blog post. ......sigh......
Maybe it will come to me before I push the "publish" button, but if it doesn't, well, there's just another glimpse inside the mind of Yours Truly.
tick tock, tick tock.. minutes pass...
Oh, yes! I remember now!! Today I'm going to share a post by one of my favorite bloggers, Jen Hatmaker. She is one of a group of people who post to a website called A Deeper Story. I "discovered" Jen from someone on FB who posted a link to a story she had written about being a horrible mom by the end of the school year. I loved the article, and her writing style, so I kept clicking links until I ended up at Jen's FB page, and ultimately The Deeper Story website. (Incidentally, a Jen was recently a guest on The Today Show, after her horrible-mom article went viral on the Internet. It was so fun to see her *in person*, after reading so many of her articles!)
Her article is titled "Sunday Night Church."
It has been years since I was a regular Sunday-night church-goer, though I do have many fond memories of the days when our youth group was large and active, and we occupied the three or four benches in the back of the church. We passed notes, secretly held hands with our sweethearts and sang the songs with gusto, at the top of our lungs. Only occasionally did we get in trouble with our parents for giggling or talking, though I'm sure the pastor would probably have liked to call us down a time or two. Over time, I just got out of the habit of going. When Whitney came along, we did family stuff on Sunday nights. Then, for many years, I worked on Sunday evenings.
We recently got ourselves a new preacher at SFBC, and that rascal occasionally does this thing where he does Part 1 of the message on Sunday mornings, and Part 2 on Sunday nights. Now, I can't speak for the others, but I'd personally rather he just go on ahead and finish the message on Sunday morning, even if it means staying a little bit longer, because I really want to hear the conclusion. About noon-time you start hearing the muted beep-beep-beep of some folks' watches or cell phones, and no doubt he hears them too. There's not many Baptists who are much interested in staying even one minute after 12:00. For the most part Pastor Mike has us out of there before, or shortly after, the alarms start beeping, especially on those days when he has a "to be continued...." sermon. I'm sure I've missed some mighty fine Part 2 messages by not attending on Sunday nights.
But... there's this thing we do. You all know that one of my most favorite places on the planet is DJ and David's deck. Weather permitting, Saturday mornings usually find us outside drinking coffee (sometimes covered in blankets, our breath forming visible vapors when we talk) This is our haven of peace, and the place where our souls connect with the universe, the place where we see rainbows and unicorns. (Well, not so much on the rainbows and unicorns any more - maybe in the olden days when our cups contained something other than coffee...)
For many years, DJ and David have had Family Night Dinner at their house on Sunday evening. For those of you who do not know, DJ and I are not actually blood related. Yet we share the same families, by the scientific concept of osmosis. I belong to her family, and she belongs to mine. It's the most fabulous thing!! And though I have been "family" for a very long time, it is only since I have been living in The Hood that I have been a regular attendee of Family Night Dinner on Sundays.
Sadly, the passage of time has resulted in some empty chairs around the table, and we are missing loved ones. DJ lost her dad, her mom, and her sister all within a short span of time. Of course she has her husband, but two nieces, a great niece and nephew are her closest blood relatives. To say family is important is to say we need oxygen to breathe. There is no quantifying the level of "importance".
So, we skip Sunday Night Church to maintain the tradition, and keep strong the ties that bind.
Today Jen's post is titled Sunday Night Church. When I read it, I felt an immediate kinship, and have a perfect understanding. This is so us. (Well, except for the part about the wine....) And I wanted to share.
So here is my invitation to establish your own version of SNC…traveling evangelist optional, although I highly recommend the hand bells.