I'm going tomorrow to our Diocesan Convention--out of duty, I assure you, not joy.
Before I was retired whichever bishop it was dreaded seeing me at a microphone and dreaded hearing what I had to say.
Since retiring from full time ministry, I don't believe I should speak or vote at the Convention.
I really don't. Let the active do the business and call the shots--I've got my pension to keep me warm at night.
I dread the formality and artificiality and Robert's Rules of it all.
I won't go Sunday for the big Eucharist--I'll be at St. Andrew's breaking bread with less than 20 people.
And I won't get there on time or stay until the end.
My minor infractions about having to be there at all.
Pray for me tomorrow.
I'll need it to stay calm and sane.
Diocesan Convention--an invitation to upset and madness.
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- Another lovely Autumn day in CT
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- Some words to ponder
- some people and a dog
- How crazy can it get?
- Y(our) god is too small
- How much I missed
- See you--it's Friday
- See you on Friday
- The longest sermon I ever preached
- More than I can handle--and I want more!
- Body and soul--one or seperable? I don't care.
- Which excuse are we on?
- Haven't written for a few days
- The Tuning (part one)
- Wait until he gets home
- We are lion cubs raised by goats
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