Tag Archives: evening prayer

There are days . . . .

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There are days when I just need to read Evening Prayer as soon as I get home.  And I do so do.  And I did, today.

Nothing untoward happened today, but I was just beat and whipped and worn when I got home.  I think that perhaps part of this is that I can feel my sabbatical starting to take hold.  And part of the weight today is that this always happens in the week before school begins.  No matter how prepared we are — and we ARE prepared — this week is just a complex, confounding, wearying pile of things to do.

So I drive home, tired.  Samson is needy; outdoors he goes.  I read Evening Prayer after throwing some chicken in the oven so I have protein to go with the salad.  I eat dinner, make a few calls, and it’s now 7 p.m. and I’m stepping out for a walk.

Weary doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to be healthy.

But damn if my foot doesn’t ache like the dickens for reasons too detailed to explain on a blog.  Alas.

Even so, Sweet Sabbatical, come, and soon.

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Thursday prayer

Lord Jesus, stay with us, for evening is at hand and the day is past: be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know thee as thou art revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread. Grant this for the sake of thy love. Amen.

I love this prayer, one that I read tonight at Evening Prayer as part of the regular cycle of prayers at the coming of night.

This prayer is based upon the story of the appearance to the disciples at Emmaus.

Saturday continued

The day has been both productive and peaceful, and at 6.30 p.m. the day has turned out to be quite beautiful too.  Clouds have cleared.  Blue sky abounds.  Temperatures are April-ish, rather than June-ish.  I’ve opened up the house for some fresh air.  And I’m writing from the porch swing, Samson by my side.

A quick Costco run led to a trip to the nail salon.

I’m without my boot this afternoon, since I desperately needed a (First-World problem here) pedicure.  And I wanted to give the ankle a chance to talk to me.

It is. I’m back in the boot in a few minutes.

Meanwhile, the time for Evening Prayer is nigh.

And after plowing through the first disc of Modern Family, season two, last evening, I think this evening is going to include planning for the UK trip (AKA itinerary building) and some reading about British history.

Eve of the First Day

‘Tis the Eve of the First Day of Summer Break.

I have worked every weekend since well before Thanksgiving.  Between church services on Saturdays and Sundays, concerts, lessons, events to attend at school, international travel, and most recently a round of final concerts then Commencement Weekend, life has been exceptionally rich.

Even this past Saturday was an eight-hour day, with Sunday a five-hour day of events that kept me ‘on.’

I was in the office on Monday for ten hours, Tuesday for nine, and today for eight.

Leaving the office at 5.45 today, I left a pile of things I was going to bring home, but then decided not so to do.

(None of this is complaining, mind you.  I love my job, and I don’t regret doing it, or doing it well.  But I’m due for a bit of down time, since my last day ‘off’ was one day in Spring Break.)

And just like that, with a simple pasta dinner, I am celebrating the Eve of the First Day of Summer Break.  Tomorrow begins the first of an annual series of three- or four-day weekends.  I’ll read Evening Prayer in a few minutes, then orgy on Modern Family (the first season on DVD arrived today),the faithful Samson by my side.

To celebrate, I have closed up the house and turned on the air conditioning.  Sweating and this damned boot don’t meet happily.

What is in store the next few days?

I’ll celebrate my First Day of Summer Break with a brief meeting at church, then Noonday Prayer and a noon-time organ recital at Christ Church Cathedral. Then I’ll continue work for a while in the afternoon on my operetta project.  Friday is a cooking & cleaning day (the home office is in dreadful state), with T arriving for dinner of coq au vin.  Saturday brings two private voice lessons, after which I intend to catch a movie.  Sunday, after church, is not one but two different auditions, one for a show, the other for a chorus.  And then I’m back to work on Monday and Tuesday next week.

So let the Eve of the First Day of Summer Break continue, and LONG LIVE SUMMER.

 

Titus

I enjoy very much the letter of St. Paul to St. Titus.  The entire little book — all three chapters — are on the docket for Evening Prayer this weekend.  I’ve just read aloud chapter two.

Hear these words:

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all,* training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions, and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly, while we wait for the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Saviour,* Jesus Christ. He it is who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are zealous for good deeds.

Meanwhile, SLUH has a home ball game tonight against a rival school, so parking is at a premium.  I’m walking over there in a few minutes to see the Dauphin Players production of a delightful favorite musical, Brigadoon, at a different location on campus.

And . . . wait for it . . . I successfully changed an outdoor security light this afternoon, dealing with electricity (with success) for the first time.  And I’m alive to tell about it.

Gelato and a Hilton

After attending Evening Prayer yesterday at 5.30 at The Church of Saint Michael and Saint George, I went the few blocks on over to World Market to scour the last of the Christmas items.  And I drove home from there poorer, but happy.

Jacob Wolverton

Meanwhile, my student Jacob Wolverton texted me to let me know he was in town for the evening with his family.  I’d not seen Jacob since I left Indiana in 2008, so we got together later in the evening at the historic Hilton downtown by the Fed, and shared laughter, swapped stories, and imbibed just enough.

I love meeting up with former kids of mine!

(This particular student has a back-story, though, which makes him even more special.  Jacob’s parents were students at Southwest Baptist at about the time I was working there.  Jacob was in children’s choir, and while I don’t have specific recollection, I would have seen him on the chancel steps at First Baptist Church in Bolivar, singing lustily at age four.)

Before the Hilton visit, though, I dashed from my dinner of salad at home to the South Grand gelato place where I enjoyed very much a small cup of London Fog gelato while talking with my friend K.  We always find things to discuss.

‘Twas a good evening of chatting.