Where the name of my blog comes from

I've reprinted my first blog several times.

The name "Under the Castor Oil Tree"  comes from the Old Testament book of Jonah.

Jonah was called by God to go to Nineveh to save the people there.

He refuses go and gets swallowed by a whale and spit up on the shore of Nineveh. He preaches to the people and God saves them.

Jonah is unset and tells God, "You brought me all this way just to save these people!"

God puts Jonah under a Castor Oil tree to calm him down but then sends a bug to destroy the tree and leave Jonah in the hot sun.

It's a book of the Bible that has no resolution.

Jonah is in the sun complaining.

And the book ends.

I often feel like Jonah--carried by a whale to be an Episcopal priest and having no idea why.

Jonah and me sit under the castor oil tree together.

And with you, I hope....

 

And a third day

 Lovely, lots of sun and blue skies until late afternoon.

Then thunder, lightening and probably two inches of rain.

Three days in a row.

Then there is the former President (I never write his name!) and his legal problems.

How can he not go to jail!

And the 14th Amendment to the Constitution--passed during the civil war--prohibits anyone who rebels against the United States can never hold elected office.

Some folks are trying to bring the former President before the Supreme Court for his role in the January 6th insurrection, to be judged under that amendment.

And he should be.

God help his blond headed soul.

(Not really....)

More of the same

More thunder, lightening and rain. Lots of each of them.

I took Brigit out at 9 p.m.--first in the front yard, but she wouldn't pee there and then in the back where she did.

I had an umbrella but got soaked. Brigit really got soaked!

Bern dried her off for 10 minutes while she had her big 'dental bone' an even after.

The weather says more is coming.

Remember my metaphors from the last post.

The division in our country in raining down on us.

How can we correct it?

How?

How?

Let me know if you know....

 

Thunder and Lightening!

This afternoon we had thunder storms for over an hour and a half.

Lightening lit the world and thunder shook our house.

And it rained like crazy.

Seems to be over now around 7 P.M.

Sort of a reflection of how our country is doing.

Lightening in the deep divides in our nation.

Thunder in the former President's indictments.

Rain in how confusing things are nationally in politics.

Hope the sun comes out tomorrow in Cheshire and in the United States soon.

Hope and pray.

 

Getting old is no cup of tea....

 On Sunday evening, I tripped in our TV room and hit my head of the door jam.

It was dark in the room and I have two bad knees that affect my balance in terrible ways.

I put a gash just above my forehead that bled like crazy. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, so Bern doctored it. Still the blood ruined my favorite shirt....

She changes the bandages twice a day because it is high enough that I couldn't do it right.

I told her, 'getting old is no cup of tea' and complained about my balance and my arrogance about not using my cane.

She blamed to glasses of wine I'd had that night.

That certainly contributed.

I see my doctor for a wellness visit (whatever that means!) on Thursday and I'll show it to her.

Today it hardly hurts at all but isn't healed. I have tomorrow and Sunday off at Trinity, Milton, so I should be fine soon.

To rephrase my title to this blog: (don't read if you are adverse to bad language)--'getting old is a damn bitch!'

Hanna's Funeral

 I've never seen anything like it.

I did the beginning of the burial office in 20 minutes--including my sermon. The next thing on the program was 'remembrances'. The service started at 2 and the 'remembrances' went until 4!

Dozens of people wanted to tell what they had experienced with Hanna.

I know two things--I've never seen anything like that at a funeral and that it would have embarrassed the hell out of Hanna to have people praising her for over an hour and a half.

The priest at St. Paul's/St. James did away with the celebration of communion. We put Hanna's ashes in the columbarium and sang two verses of a song and we were done by 4:15.

Bern and I skipped the reception to get home to our hungry and needing to pee dog, Brigit. She was usually fed at 2 but yesterday it was almost 5. She swallowed it whole!

Good-bye, Hanna. I will miss you so, so much.

A long strange Labor Day Weekend

 Tomorrow is Hanna's funeral. She was 98 but died too soon.

Then church on Sunday.

You already have both sermons.

I hate funerals for people I loved.

It's hard to hold it together when that's true.

And being at St. Paul's/St. James, a church I served over 30 years ago makes it worse.

I'll see people I haven't seen in decades and have to deal with their feelings about me and Hanna.

Going to Trinity, Milton on Sunday will be a relief from that.

But presiding two days in a row at my age is no fun.

If you're not old like me--76--you, hopefully, will be, then you'll know what I mean.