This morning is beautiful. I'm painting flowers on the southwestern side of the garage. I'm watering plants. I'm going to harvest the potaotes today and maybe have another beer. I'm trying to self-care without instructions. Then I'll sit at the bottom of the pool for far longer than anyone's comfort like every teenage boy in every movie ever made when the going gets tough.
But first, coffee. Coffee and an admission that I did indeed go looking to quiet my curiosity last evening but my curiosity quieted me instead, as we stayed up super late watching old movies and when I finally had enough and went up I knocked softly on Caleb's door and then finally let myself in. His rooms were dark and he was asleep in bed, covers thrown back, ceiling fan looping gently overhead. I let myself out again and went down the hall to my own rooms, asleep before I even got undressed.
Sam is playing Podcast Jesus again in deference to the coming heat wave, choosing to have people stay in and listen over sitting in a stuffy church trying to stay cool with masks on, baptized in hand sanitizer instead of saltwater, and I don't blame him one bit. He asked if he should just do a standard sermon and keep it formal but the answer to that suggestion is always no. Sam is better when he just talks from the heart, keeping things fluid and casual. I think I could listen to his voice all day and then I remember I can. I grab my gardening gloves and my airpods and head out to the garden. I never thought before to bring my music outside but on Sunday mornings this is even better, I think. I can show Jesus my efforts and he can call it a miracle and do nothing to help and I'll point out the only reason we're both here is because of his dad's good graces and he'll laugh and tell me I'm probably, no, one hundred percent right.
But first, coffee. Coffee and an admission that I did indeed go looking to quiet my curiosity last evening but my curiosity quieted me instead, as we stayed up super late watching old movies and when I finally had enough and went up I knocked softly on Caleb's door and then finally let myself in. His rooms were dark and he was asleep in bed, covers thrown back, ceiling fan looping gently overhead. I let myself out again and went down the hall to my own rooms, asleep before I even got undressed.
Sam is playing Podcast Jesus again in deference to the coming heat wave, choosing to have people stay in and listen over sitting in a stuffy church trying to stay cool with masks on, baptized in hand sanitizer instead of saltwater, and I don't blame him one bit. He asked if he should just do a standard sermon and keep it formal but the answer to that suggestion is always no. Sam is better when he just talks from the heart, keeping things fluid and casual. I think I could listen to his voice all day and then I remember I can. I grab my gardening gloves and my airpods and head out to the garden. I never thought before to bring my music outside but on Sunday mornings this is even better, I think. I can show Jesus my efforts and he can call it a miracle and do nothing to help and I'll point out the only reason we're both here is because of his dad's good graces and he'll laugh and tell me I'm probably, no, one hundred percent right.