Sunday Morning Special

This morning dawned bright, sunny, beautiful. I roused myself from bed about 7:30 following a fitful night of sleep (sigh, my usual these days) made worse by torrential rain and wind. As I walked downstairs for a cup of coffee the cats followed me, talking the entire way. "BREAKFAST." "BREAKFAST." My husband says, from the security of the bed, "Don't feed them."

He believes it's best not to indulge our animals in their "habits." Like their desire to annoy us with loud meows when they want to be fed. Actually one cat has loud voice, the other one, squeaks. Her little meows are so soft and squeaky I might miss them if I weren't listening. Anyway. My husband and I are at odds with this approach. He will wait a long while, listening to the talk and complaining of cats, before he gives in and feeds them. I just get it over with, then I have peace and quiet. I mean, they rely on us to feed them. They can't feed themselves (oh, if they were self fed one would be ginormous from eating all the food, the other emaciated)....

After feeding all the animals, cats and dogs, I went to the sink. Here we have a window over looking the backyard and our bird feeders. And the coffee pot is on the counter, to the left of the window. But, what I saw out the window stunned me. During the night, the beautiful plum tree outside the window, had split in half and fallen over. I gasped. And then I laughed. The birds were still in the tree, on the ground, eating the seed. Hopping around, curious. Part of the tree still exists. Maybe we can re-hang the feeders on one of the remaining branches so we can continue to watch the birds out the window. But. Maybe not. This is a big loss. The tree, filled with deep purple leaves was lovely. In the spring it bloomed the most beautiful pink blossoms. And it framed my kitchen window in the most delightful way.

Now I sit here. Mind you it's Sunday morning. By this time I have usually been up since 5:00am, and been at church since 7. But I am on vacation. So. No church for me this morning. Still, because I live next door to the church, I can see who is showing up for the 8:00 service. Out my side window, even with the drapes pulled, I can see cars pulling in. "Well, there's so and so," I say to my self. The usual 8:00 crowd arrives. All but me. There is a supply priest presiding this morning.

Last night I toyed with the idea of going to another church to worship this morning. I always think it's a good idea. Experience worship from the pews. Experience one of the many other churches in the area. But then I decided that I am in church, leading worship 48-50 Sunday's a year. I am a solo pastor, I'm it. I preach almost every Sunday. Yes. going to another church would be great. If I had more time off I might actually do it. But today. I'm going to make breakfast and read the paper with my husband. Walk the dogs, and clean up a fallen plum tree.

Comments

Enjoy. End of comment.
Unknown said…
It sounds wonderful. Have a beautiful vacation Sunday!
Diane M. Roth said…
sounds wonderful to me, too. Aaaaah! Relax!
Anonymous said…
Time off is good...enjoy it :)
Katherine E. said…
Mmmm....sounds great. Hope you enjoyed the morning!
Rev SS said…
Good decision. Blessings for a wonderful sabbath (sorry about the tree)
Tripp Hudgins said…
That sounds lovely. Wow.
Barbara B. said…
Excellent choice!
Jan said…
Sounds lovely! This morning my husband and I went to the 8:00 service at Church of the Ascension in Magnolia. I introduced myself to the female priest and said I was a friend of "Mompriest" but she had no idea what or whom I was talking about. Still, she gave a great homily, even endorsing and pushing the MDGs.
Terri said…
Oh. She wouldn't know me by my blog name, we never communicate through this medium. Dorian and I went to seminary together and had a fabulous clergy group until she moved to Seattle. Well, the group still meets, but now she isn't with us...glad you got to go. A lovely church isn't it.

Popular posts from this blog

The Bleeding-heart: a poem by Mary Oliver

A Funeral Sermon: Healed by Love

Luke: A Mary Oliver Poem