I’ve been dragging my feet, sermon wise, for the past few weeks, just not feeling it. I was worried that this, the last sermon before a week’s much-needed vacation, would be another disappointment. I had switched to next week’s lectionary to make it easier on myself, and still was having difficulty with the text. Too many ideas.
I went to bed with half a sermon in my head. I woke up with a much better one in mind. For those who are wondering, yes, I do consider this ‘proof’ of divine intervention.
Wellspring Witness turned out quite well, with a call to the church to be the place of acceptance and nourishment and transformation we so desperately need to be.
Also, my choir, which you recall went through a dry period this winter, has been practicing on Sundays after church, yielding about three times as many people, and Sunday was their first offertory since the new time. They were great. I mean, they may not win any awards, but they had harmony. It was very refreshing.
On a side theological note, my mom was over, and I was trying to explain family systems to my daughter. I asked her if she knew who *my* Mama was, hoping to surprise her with the knowledge that her Nonna was her Mama’s Mama.
“Hey, sweetie, do you know who my Mama is?”
She thinks a second. Then, “I dunno. Maybe God.”
I love my three-year-old feminist.
We Your People, Ours the Journey 