Yesterday was the twelfth anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood in The Episcopal Church.
A retired bishop who, in his wisdom, declined to approve me for seminary, said he thought I'd crack up ten years after ordination and it would be his fault. What the hey, I crack up every day.
Oh, wait, maybe he didn't mean ROFLMAOLOL kind of cracking up! Oh well...
12 annual parish meetings later, 12 annual parish budget reviews later, 144 vestry meetings later, 12 years of service with congregations skating on the edge of financial demise, 12 years of Holy Weeks, 12 years of Easters and Christmases, 12 years of making decisions, good and bad, 12 years of listening to the hearts of my fellow travelers whom it is my privilege to serve, countless baptisms - which I LOVE doing! - countless funerals - at which I have had way too much practice and it's still a privilege - Clergy retreats, Clergy conferences, Clergy meetings, Diocesan Conventions, and a life of prayer and study for which I get paid - can you believe that?!
Here I am, Lord. Send me. It's no bed of roses. But neither is Holy Week. And I love Holy Week. I might even love it if it didn't end in Easter. But it does. So does ordained ministry. So does life.
Look for it. Resurrection.