reverendjaneausten

Thursday Morning Moment “Hey!! Janey!! . . .What is this thing?" . . .The "thing" in question was some kind of delectable lemony cupcake. For the girl trying to limit gluten, it looked fine indeed, even partially consumed. The little one inquiring was one of our youngest men. I was flying around Memorial Hall as though on roller blades; some Wednesday nights the time between Evening Prayer and teaching is short. This night, some emotional pastoral concerns had shortened it even more. I stopped to answer, frankly charmed because I had been flagged down with such urgent —but affectionate informality. We are neighbors, so he does not always see me as the priest. But we are all neighbors. And I am so grateful that our children do not see me as someone costumed and distant, pontificating in some sort of foreign language. It matters to me with all my heart that they want to talk to me. I shamelessly savor their hugs and loving glances when they come my way.

“Slow to chide and swift to bless….” Those 19th century words from Hymn 410, (Praise my soul the King of heaven,) written by Henry Lyte, were a refrain in my heart from 3:00 on yesterday. Things were actually going well; we had had a lovely 7:30 service and I had made 7 individual Imposition of Ashes and Communion visits. It was cold, but the sunshine was cheerful. I arrived at the Albemarle pleased to see that the extra chairs we had requested were present in the hall outside the tiny chapel. As we organized, a boisterous group of staff came through our chairs into the auditorium. I gently asked them to make sure their doors were shut because we would not be able to close ours, something we have had to do more often lately. With my cassock, purple stole and collar, I was quite positive that they would not fail to recognize my pastoral authority. (If you are picking up a bit of prideful vanity, you are on track.) We are used to distractions in that service, from within and wi