So it's Friday night, and after phone consultation with Dr. Wife, we decide that I'll grab takeout at Sharkey's, one of our favorite "casual dining" places. I wheel Dot in her stroller -- Henry likes to run up and down the ramp inside the restaurant.
For a Friday, it's pretty darn quiet -- only a couple of people at the tables. Ahead of me at the counter: another dad, waiting for his takeout, while his 7-year-old son loads up with salsa in those tiny little urine sample cups.
While the counter staff takes my order, Dot is flirting with the other dad, who flirts back -- she grabs his proferred fingers so he can wheel her back and forth in the stroller. And then it hits me: Other Dad is Bradley Whitford.
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(Note: Father C called me last week -- the priest preaching at the 7:45 service bailed, could I fill in? Sure, I said. I didn't know he was sticking me with an apocalypse!)
Advent 1
Sermon at St. Swithin's
Luke 21:25-31
Happy New Year!
No, I haven’t taken leave of my senses, nor have you
been in a coma for a month. This is the first Sunday in Advent, and as
we light that first purple candle, we start a new Christian year – a
time when we gather as a community, open up a new Gospel – Luke this
year – and tell our story all over again, from the beginning.
Now,
the Christian year does not start with the birth of Christ. Let me
digress for a moment: I’m sure you know that Christmas is not Jesus’
birthday.
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