Inundated

My head still hurts. Could be the concussion still (and I think in part it is, I know when I really should quit reading and writing for the day--about four hours sooner than I really can), or it could just be spinning with all there is that needs doing.

I arrived back at my parish this last weekend for the first time since November 30th. In the meantime, my supervising pastor had received a new call to a 'snowbird' church in Florida; the secretary had taken the opportunity to retire; poor Mr. Hart, who always helped out in our kitchen Sundays and during the soup kitchen, passed away; preceded only slightly by Charles, who until very recently kept our choir organized and organ tuned. The last thing we did before I left to Iran was say farewell to our HeadStart teaching staff, since shifting neighborhood demographics meant we didn't have enough children in our classrooms. It almost feels like an entirely different church, or somehow all unreal.

Such changes so quickly, after many decades of running in one pattern, could spell the death of any church. On the other hand, it could also bring about some surprising and incredible new growth for us. Only time, and our openness to God's calling and the Holy Spirit, will tell.

So, we're wrapping up loose ends this week, and will probably discover more of those to deal with in the future (inevitable, always). I don't have to worry, the Session (church council)says, they're finding an interim pastor who will have experience supervising students. That's a relief to Gordon and myself. I imagine there will be additional responsibilities to face for both of us soon, just as with the rest of the congregation. "Well, it'll be a good education," Gordon says. I'm inclined to agree.