Listening to the homily

If there can be shotgun homes, I was in a shotgun church last night. Long, skinny, full of stained glass and large organ pipes. The wedding soloist didn’t need a microphone. The acoustics were as you might expect them to be in a mountain Episcopal church.

Typically, weddings are for following the scorecard until the wedding march outro. Get a program, follow it through the greeting, the singing, the blessing of the married couple. Get the hell out and find the open bar at the reception.

Last night, I found myself listening. Not sure why exactly. Could have been that I knew my parents were tending to a family crisis that involves the health of my longest-living relative. Could have been that I was uncomfortable enough in the chruch pew that I couldn’t think abot anything but what was being said. I dunno.

The homily was recycled and I knew that. Fill a jar full of rocks, you can still fit more pebbles. Fill it with pebbles, you can still fit it in some sand. Do it backward and you won’t be able to fit in all the rocks. And the rocks are the things that are important to you in your life.

But recycled or not..it made me wonder if I should be spending more time getting to know my family. More time on hiking trails with my wife and dog. More time on back porches with my friends, strumming guitars.

And less time sitting at work (I logged about ten hours this weekend that I probably won’t get paid for). Less time thinking about what job I may work next. Less time worrying about the future.

I dunno. But I’m at work right now and I should be home with my wife and dog.

It may be time for some sort of change, friends.