Emmaus Bound (and I didn't know it)

I was up and at 'em this morning at work on a sermon, but after a few hours I needed a break.  I decided to take a walk to the church, but as a devotee of multitasking I couldn't let this be a mere walk.  Let's make this walk productive! I can pick up a commentary, listen to a ministry podcast, and maybe burn a calorie or two.  Win, win, win!

I did not bat 1000 on this sojourn.  The podcast was okay but nothing to write home about and I ended up forgetting my office key at home.  Boo!  I waved goodbye to my Anchor Bible Dictionary through the window and turned around. 

That's when I ran in to one of our church members, Clarence.

Clarence was on a walk like me, but unlike me Clarence was actually on a walk.  He was unhurried and smiling.  His arms carried tools and supplies.  Seeing Clarence brightened my day.  Together we walked and talked most of the way to the parsonage.  

Yesterday I preached on the Emmaus story, and it occurs to me now that my trek-to-get-100-things-accomplished transformed (thanks be to God!) into an Emmaus walk with a fellow disciple.  

Sometimes I miss the forest for the trees in my quest to serve.  I'm grateful God is gracious to me anyway.  Thank you God for today's grace.

Sprinting in My Heels

More than once now I've darted from the sanctuary mid-service to retrieve a forgotten item.  Our sanctuary is detached from the education wing, so this darting requires a sprint across the church yard.  On Sunday I was wearing HIGH heels (not to be confused with regular high heels) when I remembered I had forgotten something.  I wonder what the congregants thought as I exited stage right like a teenage gazelle.  Is Pastor Katie sick?  Does she dislike this hymn?  Did someone yell "Cake"?  Well...none of those.  Yesterday I forgot a prop for the children's sermon.  The other time...I forgot my clothes.

At my first baptism in Scottsville it was a busy day.  It was a happy day (Easter!  Baptism!  Decorating the cross!  Church family photo!) but one with many moving parts.  I think in details, but when there are many I tend to lose track of one or two.  Following the baptism I hurriedly made my way to the dressing room only to not find my dress.  "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?" I whisper-yelled to myself and the skies. 

Here's the thing about being a pastor who happens to be a lady:  Fishing galoshes aren't made for dress-wearers.  Come to think of it I've never seen a trout or bluegill fisherperson hit the rivers in a fashionable frock from Target.  I get it, we cool, but still...maybe there's a market for fishing galoshes for the pastor who happens to be a lady?

Anyway...I opted for a t-shirt, shorts, waders and baptismal robe.  I would change immediately following the baptism.  These waders were a gift of a smaller friend, so they are a bit like tight swimsuit overalls on me.  It's a bit o' a struggle to breathe, but we good.

Post baptism it's a goal to get thee back into the sanctuary as soon as possible, so the whole no-clothes situation put me in a serious bind.  I had three choices:  1) Channel my inner Petrine self and preach in wet galoshes.  2) Wear regular black robe over t-shirt and shorts.  3) Sprint across the church yard whilst worship continues and search for my clothes in the education building.  I chose 3. 

Somehow I managed to bring high heels into the changing room, which was a blessing since I could free myself from the swimsuit overalls-galoshes-waders-situation.  Clad in a black robe, t-shirt and shorts and patent leather pumps, I bounded across the church yard in search of my grown up clothes.  Luckily I found my dress and made my way back to worship in time.

So yes.  There's a reason this blog is called Hermeneutics in High Heels.