Tile, Angels, Sherbet, & Spirea

Dear John,

 

I had a nice lunch with you after church today. The cemetery was a bit damp, but that (and the ants) is why I carry that big towel in the trunk of the car. It was the first time I've gotten to visit you this year. No ice cream, but I had a good Wendyburger and fries.

 

You should see the church. We're finally tiling the floor. The sanctuary is done, just grouted Friday, will be sealed this week, and we should be able to move things back into it for next Sunday. Everything from it was in the solea area today, which has been tiled but not grouted. That will be done this week, and we'll gradually move through the nave until it's all done. It looks nice and it's doing wonderful things for the acoustics.

 

Our little building looks very different from the last time you saw it. I'm not certain about that, though. I've always suspected that you come and serve for every liturgy. Charlie says he almost-sees you out of the corner of his eye at every service. And since Heaven is all about worship, and every earthly liturgy is our participation in the ongoing worship of Heaven, and we know angels serve at the altar, it seems likely that saints and our departed move back and forth during that time, too. You probably knew about the tile before I did. But you never minded me babbling to you before and I don't think you're starting now, so I'm telling you anyway.

 

There's not much more news from here. It's been a warm, muggy, cloudy day. There's a storm coming that's going to bring snow to the northern plains and drop our highs to the 50s. But that's spring for you. I hope we don't have storms tonight and Jethro keeps me awake. The sun is setting now and the western sky is the color of orange sherbet. The wind is picking up and it's still 78. The spirea hedge is near-peak and absolutely beautiful.

 

The beauty of this evening is breathtaking - I can't imagine the beauty you see now. But save me a seat beside you; I'm on my way. And, if you can, take a peek at our sky and hedge tonight, and smell the lilacs on the breeze.

 

Love you so much,

Joan.