Oh, I must take some pictures very soon, as I have so much to show you! Just a week ago I was driving to Indiana/Illinois (my birth home, and where my family still lives) to officiate at a family wedding. My adoptive great-niece was getting married, and I'm the appointed family "God Person" who is called upon on these momentous occasions. Actually, I'm sounding ironic and world-weary, but it's a great honor when my family calls on me to perform some priestly duty. At any rate, I arrived safely in Illinois (family lives in Illinois; I grew up 16 miles away in Indiana, and that's where the wedding was held), checked into my motel, and went immediately to my dear sister-in-law's, where the clan was gathered. Way too many people to remember when exhausted -- I had to try again the next day, Friday.
Friday was the rehearsal. It was a great day. My sister-in-law (one of my best friends) bought me a massage for my birthday, and the massage therapist she uses is really good, though she uses a bit too much oil for my taste. My "spinus parallelus" (can that possibly be right?) are apparently a mess, but it felt great. In the evening we had the rehearsal, and my family and the wedding party were gracious enough to let me lead them through the whole thing, and it was a fairly easy process. The rehearsal dinner was at a local Mexican restaurant: a taco bar on the patio. Fab. I spent that time getting to know my grandniece's bio-dad and his wife, a great couple from the wilds of Kansas (so speaks the priest from the wilds of Tennessee).
Friday night at midnight, it turns out that I had to perform the "official wedding" (as opposed to the formal, liturgical wedding). Turns out the bride and groom learned, when they got their license (several days ago) that if they got an Illinois license, the legal ceremony had to be held in the county and state where the license was obtained. The big wedding had been planned for a year to be held in Indiana. So late on Friday night (actually early on Saturday morning) we drove out to the local state park (the location choice of the bride and groom), and said only the basic "legally required" vows on a shaky, breezy dock stretched out into the small lake in the park. Good thing I had my teeny flashlight, so I could read the appropriate words from the prayer book! Now that's an adventure that I'll tell stories about into my dotage. But the legal deed was done.
Saturday was the wedding and reception (reception being held 2+ hours west of and 4 hours later than where the wedding was held). Oh, my. Exhausting. But it was a beautiful day, marred only when we discovered that the chairs for the congregation were placed directly in the sun. The mother of the bride and groom could not be seated as planned, but had to escort the (too young) flower girl and ring bearer up the aisle just before the bride -- or the little kids simply would not have processed as planned. I could have predicted it -- attendants under the age of 8 simply will not perform as required. But it was all ok, and went off flawlessly.
So I'm home, and have had a good week at work. Because of our strawberry festival and a mandatory diocesan meeting this weekend, once again I'm robbed of my days off (3rd week in a row). But I'm getting time in the afternoons to work in my garden or take a nap. So I'm only complaining a little.
Tuesday I finished and mailed a grant that would, if I receive it, provide funding for my projected sabbatical, and for the costs to my parish in my absence. Would you pray that the Lilly Endowment sees fit to reward the labor I put into this grant? Grants always make me crazy, with their multiple pages, multiple copies, narratives, worksheets, and supplementary documentation. But I did it. And if we receive it, it would be a great gift, both to the parish and to me. Italy, here I come!
Today a pretty amazing thing happened. Maybe it won't seem amazing to you at all. But I ran out of mulch. I had purchased mulch for the paths of my garden (remember those lovely raised beds? the paths needed something to "pave" them and smother all the ragweed growing there). I bought it in bags, and while it was pretty cheap, a bad didn't go very far, either -- maybe covering 2-3 feet of path. And I ran out. And I had/have no money to buy more until payday. I live payday to payday -- isn't it pathetic? -- but such is my life right now. No money for more mulch. Then two things happened. These were half the amazing thing. Because of the strawberry festival, the guys who volunteer to maintain our grounds decided to "vaccum" the grass clippings this week. Usually we just let them sit and eventually fertilize the lawn; but this week everything needed to be super-tidy for the crowds (300 or so) that descend upon the front church lawn to eat strawberries and shortcake and ice cream. It's like an old-fashioned ice-cream social - simply lovely. At any rate, there were bags and bags of these lovely grass clippings. And at the same time, I had a big tree removed from my hedgerow (danger of falling and crushing my lovely rectory), and when the tree guys chipped it all, they agreed to give me the mulch. So I have mountains of lovely mulch! I can't believe it. Tons of free mulch, just dropped into my lap (well, into my garden, at least).
And tonight in yoga, as I lay quietly in savasana, I remembered many board feet of old shelving that I can't use, that will easily make up the 12 feet of lumber I need in order to finish off my raised beds. I've been fussing over this lumber shortage for far too long, and I remembered that I have more than I can ever use, sitting on the floor of my studio upstairs. Now I call that remembering a gift of the Holy Spirit, though I know not all would agree. At the very least, it's creative thinking at its best. But on Ascension Day, I have to believe it's something more. Thank you, Jesus. Sometime over this weekend, I just may get my garden finished.
And my strawberries are ripening -- I've already had at least a dozen. Can life be better? It has been a good week, indeed.