It is hard to think of what to say about a day like today, but I will do my best. I woke up early this morning because I wanted to get some reading done before it was time to meet up with my pastor and his wife to head off to Hood River, where I had the sermonette this morning [1]. I arrived at the Safeway in Washougal to do the carpool, hobbled over to where my minister was parked, got in the back seat, and waited for the minister’s wife to come back with her coffee. When she came back and we drove off along the Washington side on WA-14 until we got to the Bridge of the (Heathen) Gods, before crossing over to the Oregon side for the rest of the trip. Along the way we got to chat about grandkids, about the ethical dilemmas of in-vitro fertilization, and the joys of being forgetful about one’s physical belongings. It was an enjoyable trip.

Once I got to Hood River I helped set up, even though moving around was a bit of a challenge. There were three men there, and so all of us had duties. I gave the sermonette and the closing prayer, the pastor gave the sermon, and the other gentleman led songs and gave the opening prayer. We had some time to fellowship, I got to hold the drooling but adorable and so far unnamed youngest daughter (at present) of the large clan in Hood River, and then it was time to head back to pick up my car and drive to services in Vancouver. Along the way there was a driver weaving back and forth all over creation, so dangerous and hazardous that the driver of our car (on the way back from Hood River, my pastor’s wife) suggested I call 911 on the driver to make sure he got stopped, and so I did, which was an unusual experience as usually I am not at leisure to call 911 when I am driving alone.

At services in Vancouver, one of our speaking deacons gave a sermonette that was a somewhat condensed version of one of my previous blog posts on imputation that was, like my more lengthy post [2] based off of the most recent congregational Bible study. The same sermon was given in both of the congregations in the circuit today, and somehow I ended up being one of the only people with a bulletin because I had gotten one of the few copies in Hood River and the ones for the Portcouver congregation had been left by the front door of the house of some of our members who had not checked their front porch to see them. The message itself, which looked at some of the edges of the Passover account, including the conversation of Jesus Christ with Pontius Pilate and the seven last words of Jesus Christ, which likely will be a near future blog entry in my Famous Last Words project [3] fairly soon as part of my Passover reading and Bible study, was certainly a thought provoking one, and that is something I tend to appreciate. I had plenty of time to socialize after services, which mostly involved trying to avoid having small children stomp on my gimpy right foot while they took turns trying to use my hands as an ersatz parallel bars to practice their gymnastics, since there was no teen/young adult choir today. As I left I managed to chat with our songleader and another one of our speaking deacons about seeking to plan future sermonettes in Hood River on an ongoing basis.

It was after this that I headed from church to dinner down in rural Clackamas County, where our usual dinner group ate at the house of one of our usual dinner families as part of another dinner club group, and had an enjoyable meal of turkey and all the fixings. There were long conversations while we were there, even though my voice was rather ragged by this time, and I stayed up until it was way too late asking the people there what (if any) place would be a good fit for me in the pre-teen camp while drinking water and sweet tea and pondering what it is that makes my days so long and my Sabbaths so far flung. We chatted about family, about communication, about similarities and what it is that allows people to relate and enjoy their time with others. So often our lives involve the same themes and concerns over and over again, and yet even our similarities do not always bring us together. Nor, despite the exhaustion of a busy day, does sleep come easy, even when one has spent one’s Sabbath all over creation. Sometimes one simply has too much on one’s mind to go quietly into the night.

During my driving, at least, over the past couple of days, I have had the chance to listen to part of an audiobook on minor league baseball, and listening to the book at first made me feel very sad when I heard about those who struggle and toil at an area near greatness only to find a giant chasm between where they are and where they want to be, a step that seems so near and yet is so far. I wondered if in my life if I am one of those people of modest talents and abilities who is not quite great enough to be a superstar but clearly a very talented person who has to toil with as good an attitude as possible for the chance to prove myself knowing that those opportunities are few and far between, hoping to have the chance to leave something worth being remembered for by other people before the ravages of time become too hard to take, while I am still close enough to my prime for other people to have hope that the best is yet to come, and that the opportunity for growth and advancement and progress has not been closed altogether. Yet a day like today, if it does nothing else, ought to inspire hope that some progress is being made at long last, and that my time in obscure wilderness wandering may not need to last forever.

[1] https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress.com/2016/04/03/the-handwriting-of-requirements-that-was-against-us/

[2] https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress.com/2016/03/19/excuse-me-sir-but-there-has-been-an-imputation-in-your-account/

[3] https://edgeinducedcohesion.wordpress.com/2016/01/18/an-introduction-to-the-famous-last-words-project/