I woke before my alarm at 7:30 and was up about 7, making liberal coffee in the French Press. Soon, I was writing a long blog about Saturday as I watched the backyard witness the sunrise. Writing, I quickly tried to capture Susie’s concert and retirement party events in the blog. I record that I attempted to make the event feel more like a moving-on celebration than a goodbye. I think I was successful at that.
Today, I feel much more at peace, and my grief has changed; the tears still come easy, but the pain is less. It does feel like my life has restarted. It has been over five months since Susie passed.
Lately, I have been eating one piece of toast with reduced-sugar jam in the mornings. I usually do this when I take my meds. Just a few calories, and the taste is excellent. I have some toast to take a break from writing.
The blog was finished at about 9:30 in the morning, and soon, I was washing up. Next is the ritual of the suit. While not “the last suit you will ever wear” from Men in Black, it requires time and care. The suspenders must be put on facing out and over the shoulders without twisting. This attaches to special internal buttons you must request when buying the suit (or later added by good dry cleaners) and optional clips to the pants–I use both. The suspenders are hidden under the vest. Today, I picked the western ruby color. While I am not even close to looking like James West from the series Wild Wild West, I can at least have a cool vest like he had. I add the cheap vest pocket watch with the gold-colored chain. This has to be done after the shirts, ties, and vests are buttoned. Shoes, black plain leather shoes, go over grey socks to match the darkish grey suit. I complete the ritual without too many mistakes.
It is a more typical March day with blue skies and rain, not just mist, but the threats of heavier rain here and there. Thunderstorms would come later in the evening. Before the climate change, we had maybe one thunderstorm in a year. Now, we see them often. I pick the felt brown hat for the rain instead of the black dress hat. It dries out faster.
The church, First United Methodist Church, seemed chaotic today, as the preacher was back, and various folks were missing from illness or the local spring break. Dondrea was looking busy as she and the audio-video folks scrambled. Shawn called out the two-minute warning, which was mostly ignored. Soon, Dondrea walked to the front; you could almost hear the yell, “Places, people,” and the “break-a-leg” in the sudden silence. Singing starts, and folks march with palms. Soon, everyone who can walk marches through the church sanctuary waving palms; it is Palm Sunday. We make four or more circles.
Carson Baily, today’s liturgist, rocks the house by asking everyone to stand and greet people, but soon, the well-oiled Methodist Machine takes over, and we follow the usual program. Dondrea gets us focused again.
It is now Holy Week for Christians (Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday), and the hymns are familiar and easy to sing. Pastor Ken Wystma is back from a working vacation and has decided on a long story for the sermon today; pastors always want to go long on Holy Week. He surprised me by covering Jesus’s entry, remembered on Palm Sunday–we are sticking to Holy Week topics. He covers that Jesus rode a pack animal and/or a small horse–not riding in as a conqueror but as a humble prophet. Ken projects pictures of famous people on horseback, primarily white horses, and shows how these were political or propaganda statements. But Jesus was riding a lesser creature and projected humility. Something we should remember, Ken suggests.
Next, Ken points out that Jesus spends the next few days tossing out the money changers, threatening to destroy the temple (in this case, he was referring to himself), and then cursing a fig tree because it, like the temple, was not producing fruit. Jesus, in Ken’s words, was challenging the officials and pointing out what was not working.
Ken said that on his travels, he witnessed many political statements at the dinner tables, either left or right. The main direction was that everything was failing and worse than it once was in the past. It did not matter the political stance of the speaker–they were sure things were failing. Ken then reminded us that people have been saying this for years. There are scientific polls that show this over the years. But he feared that now many are tempted to do whatever it takes, the ends justifying the means, to save us. Ken said that if Jesus were to address the United States, Jesus would say we are focused on politics and not what is essential. “The Angel of the USA charges that you have forgotten to love each other and are divided. You must repent for the anger, be humble, and find your love for each other.” Echoing the letter of Revelations–my words, not Ken’s.
While an interesting sermon, it did, unsurprisingly, go on for quite some time. Other less patient folks and I think we need to get a red light for Ken after thirty minutes. But, again, it was good.
Soon, it was cookies and coffee. Susie’s concert cookies were served. Everyone loved them.
I left and met Rev Anne and Rev.Dr. Wayne at Olive Garden, and I had spaghetti and meatballs. The salad, as always, was excellent. However, the pasta was overcooked, and the meatball’s flavor was flat. Sad, they used to be the best of the best of Olive Gardens. Their cooks before the pandemic would make everything fresh and with extra hints of flavor here and there. Now, it was more industrial. I have heard the white sauces are still good, and the seafood items are also great. Anne and Wayne were happy with their food.
Anne and I discussed Ken’s sermon, and some of the conclusions above are based on her help. Rev. Anne gave Ken high marks, especially Ken’s placing the problematic story of Jesus and the Fig tree in the context of the passion story. Bravo.
I returned home and managed, after three tries, to get the grey suit to stay on one nice wooden hanger. I switched to more comfortable clothing. My pants are now falling all the time. My weight has not changed, but my shape, let’s call it, has. All that extra me is not in the right places to keep my pants on when I have two phones and a wallet in my pants. I am stubborn, a little bit cheap, and will wait until 240 pounds before considering new or revised clothing options. A silly problem.
I read, did some laundry, and cleaned up the kitchen. Afterward, I headed to Matt V’s house to play Dungeons and Dragons. We have been unable to play for over a month due to various travel and working schedule conflicts. Even then, one of us missed at the last minute. Which solved the issue of who’s character was assassinated. The person who missed character was assassinated. Part of the story today.
I play a lawful (very harsh and organized) and evil (the ends always justify the means), but I am powerful enough to raise the dead. I am also able to create undead. Our good folks’ characters watched my character and ensured I raised the character that died and did not create an undead version of the character. My character was conflicted as the undead would have followed orders better, but the good folks were insistent. As lawful, I am a team player and bow to their wishes. I am a cleric of War and not a nice Tolkien guy. “These dead guys are quite useful,” to paraphrase a dwarf in a famous movie. Maybe next time.
I don’t want to cover too much as this was Matt V’s story, and other groups are playing the same adventure. Our mission today was to slay the last pirate/assassin lord. We hunted down the assassin using various auguries and divination (imagine me as a spinning dervish going into a trance while spinning). Our bard beat the drum while I spun faster and faster. I saw the location of the bad guys in my spinning trance. Yes, it’s a problematic image.
Later, in a more straightforward image to imagine me, I cast various blasting spells in full plate and shield, with various enchantments to make me even more challenging to hurt. Most attacks fail against my armor–even cannon fire. Yes, I am a heavy-armored, blasting War cleric supporting my team. My enemies melt before me. No quarter was expected or given.
We defeated the bad guys and won the day. It was a hard fight. I headed home to start more laundry, do more dishes, and read for a while. I finally shower and sleep. I went to bed early again.
It was a good day of church, lunch, and Lawful Effective (what we call it) gaming. Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 