The Blog2Print company that has
printed all my journal-books is closing, so now I must send off this final
book, and I don’t know if I’ll continue blogging or not. This will be my 10th
hardbound book, so maybe not. I’ve been trying to burn some of my depressing earlier
hand-written journals.
Keith asked me recently if I would
attend church when I retire.
Yes.
Would it have to be United
Methodist?
Probably.
Big or small?
I don’t know. I love small
churches, but I want to sing in a good church choir. That means it probably
will be on the larger side. I guess that means I will visit Pittsboro UMC
first, I said. But the preaching also will need to be good. I’d like to
be for some other pastor what Cheryl Brown has been for me: a friend, helper,
confidante. That’s not guaranteed of course.
Whatever church I attend definitely needs to be located near our home. Now watch me contradict myself in the next paragraph.
I told Keith I will make it known
to whatever district superintendents have churches within a 35-minute drive
that I would like to fill in as a short-term interim pastor when a church needs
one. I did this for several years when I served Union Grove (who worshiped at 5
p.m.), and I really enjoyed it.
Embarrassing fact: I don’t
even know what district Pittsboro is in.
Second embarrassing fact: I
did not follow General Conference this year, for the first time ever. I’m glad
of the changes that I have read about, and really the only reason I have read
about them is because I’m told I need to keep Massey’s Chapel informed. So we’ll
have a church meeting on May 19 after worship where we will go over the same information,
and I’ll probably have to pull out (again) the Bible verses that get
(mis)interpreted.
I’m teaching a Bible study on the Parables of Jesus (which, I'd like to point out, do not address homosexuality) during the Tuesdays of May . The first week was well attended.
I’m playing pickleball three
times a week at Pickles & Play indoor courts in Chapel Hill. I’m taking a
clinic on Thursdays; last week I learned how to serve with top spin. I have two
muscles that threaten to cause pain when I play, so I must be careful. Is it
the pickleball or my age? The answer is: yes. The joke is that
pickleball was invented by an orthopedic surgeon who wanted more business.
The “mindful meditation” class
at Duke Integrative Medicine that Massey’s paid for isn’t great. It is Wednesdays at
5:45 p.m., rush hour, so it takes me 45 minutes on Hwy 15-501 to get there. There’s
a ton of “homework” I’m doing only in a half-baked way, so my lack of
enthusiasm probably is my own fault.
Last but not least, a few days
ago an indigo bunting bird landed on my back porch; I about fainted. God really
went overboard when giving this bird its color. The photo doesn’t do it justice.
