Whitsunday, 7th Sunday After Easter

Today is Pentecost. Next to the Advent blue, I love the red of Pentecost and Reformation Sunday. We altar guilders are aware of the colors of the Christian church year, changing banners and paraments with the seasons. Some of my friends give me a blank stare when rattle on about it. I would love to be a walking talking hyperlink. This blogging is the best thing, ever. It was red everywhere this morning at St. Tim's. Red paraments and pastor's stoles, red banners, red altar flowers and red carnations on the eleven confirmands. I love ordering the church flowers; it amazes me to think I thought it was going to be one big pain in the neck. It isn't.

I had a meeting between the Spirit Alive and Traditional 11:00 services regarding 'passionate spirituality.' I think they thought I had lost my mind when I told the group that I thanked God for them. I do and they might just as well know it. C, who very competently heads this little group, is a middle school teacher. There are only four of us. One of the fellows went to the same high school at which I taught for sixteen years. M is part of the prison ministry. The three of them are pretty amazing people. We have more work to do and I have no doubt that it will be significant and of much consequence. I am glad to be a part of it.

He Who Must Be Obeyed and I swam this afternoon. The pool was 95 degrees, if you can imagine. It was great. We vacuumed the tree seeds off the bottom, drank some wine from little silver wine glasses, and probably got more sun than our winter white skins needed.

A son called to tell me he and his wife will be flying home next weekend if the weather is favorable, if not they will probably 'fly' in the Corvette. I am happy they will be here. We haven't seen one another since Christmas. Since then he has been in Latvia and Finland. We have so much to talk about.

Sundays are the best.