trying to improve at my craft
I'm back from the Missouri Pastor's conference. Golf on Monday morning, conference that afternoon, evening, and this morning.
Wayne Stacy was our facilitator - he did a good job. It's a little spooky watching someone who is so talented/graced at the art of crafting a sermon. It's pretty obvious he works at it a lot harder than I do, but he has a skill that I can only really aspire to - as Col. Potter said in M*A*S*H about a particular bottle of sherry, "There's not enough o's in 'smoooooooth' to describe . . ." Well, you get the idea.
Weeks like this one are good for me, though - sit back and listen to someone who's been at this longer, and knows more of what he's trying to accomplish. You come away from something like this with a few more tools, and that's really all you can ask.
BTW - Ran into Tom Dunn. No, not Dad - there's a pastor in Missouri by that name - I met him several years ago. The only conversation we had was this afternoon after the conference was over. We were in the common room, and I was facing the back window. So, he was rather sillouetted, and the shape of his head, with thinning hair . . . it was a little eerie.
I want to welcome two new bloggers. Younger friends. Take a look at
Gentlewarrior and
Go Barefoot. You'll like them both.
Happy Birthday, Dad
You were looking forward to turning 80. I am not missing you less - actually, I am starting to think of you even more fondly - if that is possible. Every day, I thank God for you - your influence in my life - my life itself. But I now live in a new world - a world that I never imagined. It is strange to me - everything is less familiar, and I feel alone . . .
The thing that haunts me most is that your looming presence is fading just a little more each day. Your features are fading - less clear and less distinct. And I am starting to forget the sound of your voice - full of love, hope, direction . . .
You were right - there's never enough days. Happy birthday. I love you.