Or I wasn't so bad last time.
Last time I preached, I mean.
The Church Council called me this morning.
Wanted to know if I'd speak on Sunday.
Sure, I'll speak on Sunday- to whom?
Speak... as in preach.... to everyone.
They thought maybe I had something up my sleeve.
I haven't had any sleeves for three months, I said, but maybe I could pull something out of my cleavage.
Simply put, I declined.
Maybe it went better than I thought, though, the last time I filled the pulpit for my husband.
Or, yeah, maybe it's Tuesday and they're getting desperate.
I suggested putting signs on the door to direct everyone up the hill to the Free Methodist Church. We could drop in on them the way they dropped in on us the Sunday after their roof dropped in.
Or, in the absence of a preacher, we could just declare the last Sunday in July "Ecumenical Sunday" and tell everyone to go visit the church of their choice.
Or we could congregate at the lake.
But, whatever goes on, I won't be preaching!
Aren't you glad?