Storytelling God

My last post seems very flip, but it's how I deal with death. I know it's how I deal with death...it got all CPE'd out of me (that's clinical pastoral education, for those of you who haven't had....ahem...the pleasure...). I suck it up and make jokes and forget to feel that although yes, Granddaddy died at a ripe old age, and yes, he was suffering, that I do miss him and I will miss him. He was the most interesting person I may have ever met. He was also the most generous person I've ever met, with his time and with his money. I never went to his house without receiving my "gas money," a rolled up $20, even after I had a job and was married with a family.

And so when I prayed at his funeral, I talked about generosity, and I prayed to the "storytelling God." I thought Granddaddy might like that, because his stories, like Jesus' parables, were sometimes long and rambly but always had a point, even if it was just to take care of your washing machine or else you'll pay more in the end.

Just to put a capper on my emotional week here, my son is being baptized this Sunday. He is eight months old and absolutely one of the most joyful people I've ever met, already. I have a feeling that I'm going to cry, maybe a lot.

The text for Sunday is the mustard seed...that the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, that starts out tiny but takes over the rest of the plants and emits a pungeant smell. Like a baby? I think so. We'll start with that.

Thanks to all of you who have shopped CHICKPASTOR: THE STORE! I am anxiously awaiting my fabulous fashion statement too. Peace.