The pastor was on fire today!

He got a round of applause at the end. That doesn’t happen too often. He even went late! The sermon included the word ‘sloth’, a story about a woman who collected termites to sell for food in the Congo, and a baseball come-from-behind story from his youth. You might say he was all over the place, which he often is. But today he kept building and building and building to this great climax.  He totally had me the whole time and I hope my 16 year old son too.

He doesn’t always attend with me, one of the many downsides of divorce. I know he doesn’t want to be there, but I still take him when I can. Cinnamon rolls are a good incentive to get up and get moving. At least he doesn’t kick and scream like a toddler. But it’s still pretty obvious to those around us that he’d rather be anywhere else. I say a prayer that he will get something out of the morning. Anything, just a small inspiration, or reminder that God loves him and it’s okay.

Today was about passion.   God wants us to have a passion for our purpose in life. He wants us to have joy in our day and live it to the fullest. The termite lady had passion. She enthusiastically shared how she rose early every day to harvest the termite mounds which was hard and dangerous labor.  She cheerfully sold them till the crawling critters were all gone and didn’t understand the question about did she ever get bored with doing the same thing seven days a week. In my mind, I saw this grizzled, older-than-she-really- is face grinning back at our minister as he tried to understand through the interpreter her story.

I won’t even attempt to retell the baseball story. It had physical recreations, suspense and a surprise ending. He really hit one out of the ballpark, no pun intended! I couldn’t help but think about the lessson I had just taught kindergarteners about what makes a good storyteller. Well, our pastor has it. Passion for his purpose, his job, and it comes out loud and clear in his sermons. He weaves bits in and out and ends up with a marvelous story that incredibly supports the verses from the Bible. It is an art and I am very appreciative.

Just like my yoga teachers. Sometimes I think they are making us do these weird poses so they can post on YouTube. But somehow by the end of class it all makes sense. They weave us in and out of various posisitons to meet the needs of our bodies and provide balance in the end. I am always amazed at how it all comes together. One minute I’m feeling clumsy and the next I’m looking like a Degas dancer balanced carefully waiting to be scuplted by the master. Maybe it’s like that in our journey with God until we find out what our purpose is.

My son didn’t confess to an ephiany today. He did tell me he loved me in the car on the way home. A small step.

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