In Gennesaret

My guy tells me that it is “the writer’s gift and curse to redeem trouble with language.” Shall we test that concept? I had my first colonoscopy yesterday. Some moments and reflections: - Toilets need built-in entertainment stations for such a time as this. - I suspect that the cup (see photo) that they gave me to mix my Magic Drano Drink in was bewitched because I sipped and sipped and sipped at that crappy stuff, and it seemed multiply at my touch like the treasure in the vault at Gringott’s. Why is there so much of this . . .?!? - A snippet from a group text with some patient friends who listened to me complain all evening: Me: Will I get demerits if I don’t finish the whole drink? Diane: You really should follow their instructions. If your colon is not properly cleansed, you will have gone through this for nothing. Me: That’s the wrong answer. I thought you loved me. She doesn’t. Diane doesn’t love me. - On the positive side, I have rediscovered Jell-O. Cheap,...

I almost didn’t go to church today. There was a family retreat happening this weekend, so pretty much my whole Sunday School class was gone. I’m having a colonoscopy tomorrow (the joys of growing old), so I have all that jolly fun prep stuff going on, plus some other medical issues I don’t need to go into now. I mean, I could come up with all sorts of reasons NOT to go to church this morning. My guy told me recently that the typical regular church attender averages 2.5 Sundays per month these days. So, it’s really no big deal for me to miss once in a while, I suppose. I certainly do better than average. I think. Well, I know I used to. I grew up in one of THOSE Southern Baptist families, you know: if the church building was unlocked, we were in there. Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, special events . . . we even hunted down a Southern Baptist church to attend when we were on vacation. It simply wasn’t an option to just NOT go to church on a Sunday morning unless you...

I just turned 54. That means I’ve played piano for forty years. Well, I’ve played piano for more than forty years . . . I would say I’ve been playing piano well for about forty years. Recitals and contests. Accompanying groups at school. Offertory specials at church. Lots and lots of playing piano. But a few years ago, when my earthquake hit, I stopped. Just wasn’t in the mood anymore. And then my music was stored away where I couldn’t get to it . . . and when I got it out, most of it was ruined (you can read about that here if you missed that drama). In any case, the few bits of music that survived I’ve been getting out and picking through again once in a while. And it’s kind of nice to be back at the ivories, but it’s also been frustrating. Because I’ve lost some of my touch. Really challenging songs that I used to nail, and really beautiful songs that I used to love, I’m stumbling through these days. And as I stumble, I imagine the days when I used to play them to great ac...