Sunday mornings come too early as it is. The whole first part of the day is a rush to get out of the door on time, with everything we need. Quiet Time-Bath-Dress-Breakfast-Clean Teeth-Pack-Leave. With a very slight chance of a 'check e-mails' if the clock allows...
Then when we got to church there was this slightly unreal sense of being at the right place, but at the wrong time. I suppose the sight of my father reading 'The 31 Days of Christmas' should have forewarned me to some extent, but nevertheless I really wasn't expecting to sing a Christmas carol in church. In July. However, I have to admit that a) the said carol really did fit with the sermon, and b) having spent the whole of last December in hospital, it was quite nice to sing a Christmas carol, as I missed that experience last winter!
Sermon was excellent too. Unfortunately I am still suffering from 'stuffed-with-sawdust' syndrome (wasn't that the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz?) so what should have been a real encouragement and blessing to me was met by an intellectual consent but an emotional blank. I don't like feeling blank. Must talk to my psychiatrist about this.
Am having a bad day rice-wise. Lunch's rice refused to cook, and the rice pudding I am trying to cook at this moment is showing the same stubborn resistance to heat and moisture. Obstinate stuff.
My mother's weather forecast this morning was 'T-storms'. Not an item of clothing, or a hot beverage, but, apparently, a shortened form of 'thunderstorm'. And we had one. Right in the middle of this evening's service. The thunder itself was unimpressive, but the rain was so loud I struggled to hear the preacher. But, rather like the proverbial tea-cup storm, it was of short duration. Still hot and heavy weather though. Hope the workmen let me have my windows open tomorrow.