Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a weekly post reviewing Sunday, the busiest, most stressful, most gratifying day in the week of a pastor/parent/spouse/citizen.
Song of the Day:
6:00. Alarm. Seriously? Snooze.
6:18. Awake two minutes before expiration of snooze alarm. Consider the relative value of two minutes of sle–alarm again.
6:33. Open laptop to finish the morning’s confirmation lesson. Face down reality: The Heidelberg Catechism, Ann LaMott, Dorothy Day, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the story of the Rich Young Ruler, and the Presbyterian Study Catechism won’t all fit in 45 minutes. Curse the space/time continuum.
7:53. Completely rethink final confirmation project assignment and write up a new description. Plan to post it to blog later in the week.
8:11. Second cup of coffee.
9:27. Expose confirmation students to Ann LaMott and her profoundly theological profanity. Brace for retribution.
10:09. Acolyte jogs to the lectern to lead Call to Worship like he’s being introduced as part of the starting lineups.
10:10. Chest bump the acolyte.
10:17. Recognizing new crosses decorating sanctuary during Children’s Time. Tell kids that the big paper one with their handprints on it hanging in the back is to remind us that the cross is for all of us. Kid looks at me like, “For me? What did I do?”
10:29. Getting schooled on the water situation in 1st century Laodiceia by my brilliant colleague. Mentally rehearse the putdown, “Ima spit you out my mouth like Laodiceian water, fool!”
11:22. Ask adult education committee members to introduce themselves by answering the question, “What are you learning?” Listen carefully as people share thoughtful, sensitive, yearning to grow.
11:58. Schedule six weeks of adult education programming in four minutes. We done here?
12:38. Return home to playdate with four year-old and her bestie. Realize I haven’t eaten yet today. Devour a pizza.
12:45. Wife is screening new show, “Preacher’s Daughers.” Hey, this could be interesti–nope nope nope nope nope. Plan blog post on horrors of the show for later in the week.
12:53. While watching show about promiscuous pastor’s daughters, serve as the groom in my four year-old’s wedding, officiated by her playmate. Riff terrifically with the hashtag #fouryearoldwedding.
1:39. Set up play tent, sleeping bag, and lawn chair for daughter and playmate on the lawn. Claim the lawn chair for myself.
2:46. Taxes. Done.
2:52. The week’s meals. Planned.
4:14. Tearful end to the playdate. Literally have to pry the crying girls off of each other. Assurances of “You’ll see her next week” are met with “But that’s too long!” Broken up.
4:37. Facing group of 14 people–junior high students and their parents–explaining with as much pastoral adroitness as I can that there’s no telling what will happen at the meal we’re all about to go serve at the local transitional housing shelter. Thinking they’re taking it well.
5:07. Sit down to banquet of chicken enchilada casserole, fruit salad, mac n’ cheese, caesar salad, brownies, and gallons of beverages. There are 15 from the church and a single shelter resident. Awkward. Reeealy awkward.
5:24. Shelter resident and church families devolve into knee-slapping laughter around the table. Catch a glimpse of the truth: we’re called to share our community and our humanity; food’s a useful tool to do that.
5:51. Dishes. Dried.
6:32. Waiting for high school students to arrive, building to-do list for the week.
6:41. Youth group volunteers arrive with coffee for me. Kiss them both on their mouths simultaneously.
7:43. “Game of Things” prompt: “Things you shouldn’t lick.” Answer from volunteer: “The Pope.”
7:52. Student tries to tell me her mom needs her home early. Text mom. Nope. Busted. Student fumes.
8:08. Soul Pancake check-in prompt: greatest fault, greatest strength. Observe students struggling to talk about their strengths. For some it’s not a pose; they really don’t know they have any. Wince.
8:38. Celebrate student who’s question was featured on Questions That Haunt. Note this is a student who couldn’t identify his own strengths.
9:02. Practice “Yes, let’s!” improv benediction I learned at NEXT 2013.
9:05. Fuming student to me: don’t text my mom behind my back. Me to fuming student: don’t lie to me.
9:12. Whipped in foosball. Again.
9:18. Locking up, notice fuming student’s parent wandering around, looking for her. She just left. Didn’t wait for parents to pick her up.
9:22. Driving home, looking for fuming student along the way.
9:38. Texting fuming student’s mom: is she home?
9:41. Flustered response full of apologies for student’s behavior.
9:42. “Better to have her than not.”
9:44. Plan fuming student blog post for later in the week.