The wonderful new song we sang this morning was not written by our incredible worship leader (hi, Stacey!), though it could have been. The words of the song (w/m by Reuben Morgan) are based on a portion of Psalm 46, which was read in the service: Be still, and know that I am God.
My bronchial passages were not like cocktail straws; they were like cocktail straws stuffed with overcooked macaroni. But for the period of time we were singing, they cleared up. Neat, huh?
The housekeeping chores sort of didn't get fully done...did some laundry, did a quick grocery run, did some picking up. Not in the mood.
The catfish, due to unforeseen circumstances, ended up being tonight's dinner instead of Fridays. Now I remember why I rarely fry food; even with the range fan on and a liberal application of lysol (which is blending nicely with the smell of cooking oil, catfish and Narcisco Roderiguez perfume) the unmistakable scent lingers. But it was worth it.
Pastor Shane's sermon on weathering the storms today was wonderful. Still, when he said one of his points was that we should prepare to die, I know I wasn't the only congregant to immediately think: "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die."
Was I?
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