Special and Holy

I've moved into the ranks of being a "Semi-Professional Christian."

I not getting paid but I'm doing the work.

Actually Sarah's doing most of the work and will likely achieve the title of "Preacher's Wife" ... which is a lot like being taken for granted the rest of your life ... which is what Church's do to Preacher's Wives.

Nevertheless, we're pretty excited about it.

It's not the traditional "GOD IN A BOX" stuff that mostly happens.

It's God in a Bar.

The first miracle Jesus performed was turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana ... which just goes to prove the more wine there is at a wedding the better the ceremony.

Bar Church started 5 years ago and Sarah and I were both drawn in during the early days and we brought other friends too.

Like Churches everywhere, it's gone through it's ups and downs but it has constantly let people know there's a place where they can be accepted as they are.

Dressing up is discouraged.

Flip-flops, smokers, hungry and hung over people ... the widow, the orphan, the Sojourner ... are all welcome.

Sometimes its a Zoo without cages.

But every single time, there's something special and Holy that happens.

So we're investing what we got in special and Holy.

We got a feeling  ... a feeling deep inside ... all Hell's getting ready to break loose!

Changing Weather

"The weather will be cooler and drier," the Weather Lady says.

"DAMN!" I curse with my head laying in Sarah's lap. "I don't want that!"

"I think it's great," Sarah coos.

I can't hit "Off" on the remote fast enough to make the Weather Bitch go away and stop her bad prophesies of cooler days ... which naturally lead to COLD DAYS ... which I hate more than anything.

We go to bed to the sounds of birds chirping and cicada singing.

Every window in the house is open and I. LOVE. IT.

The outdoors is synonymous with the indoors.

At some point during the night, warmly snuggled with Sarah, a beeping sound erupts distributing the beauty of the night.

"Car Alarm," Sarah proclaims.

"Birds chirping," I sleepily mumble.

Apparently the car alarm went off a second time and I continued to insist it was birds chirping.

I don't know.

I was having nice dreams, warmly snuggled beside the love of my life.

It could have been an atomic bomb blasting the island to smithereens and I would have argued it was a choir of Angels singing the "Hallelujah Chorus."

Sarah reminds me of these things this morning as she lingers in bed on her phone ... her girls make their way to the Cinnamon Rolls I've made them ... while I sit shivering on the Beloved Back wearing a damn tee shirt!

The Weather Lady got it right.

Damn Her!

They never get it right.

That's why I'm going back to watching Pat Prokop forecast the weather.