I'm enjoying my vacation, as you can tell from the lack of posts. This morning, though, I wanted to be in Evanston.
See, if I'd been in Evanston, I would have gotten a good sermon and Eucharist. At my home parish,* I got a Lesser Feasts & Fasts history lesson (with a plea for more deaf priests attached at the end) and morning prayer. Eucharist and good preaching... daily office and history. Eucharist and good preaching... yeah. I've got nothing against either the daily office or history - they're just not what I'm looking for in my main Sunday worship service.
On the other hand, our rector did a lovely brief service for transferring my grandfather's ashes from the unmarked columbarium behind the main altar to the new columbarium in the back of the chapel, where he and my grandmother will eventually share their double niche, with their names on the front. And, you know, I like my parish.
Besides, my New Orleans family has reported in - they've migrated to northern Mississippi, just outside Memphis. They'll still be wet, but they'll be safe and wet. And really, that matters a lot more than what kind of church service I got this morning. Right now I'm praying for those that are still in town - and praying that the dome holds up.
*I'd give you a link here, but my home parish currently has such an abysmal website that I don't dare. It's been utterly useless for a while now, and is just starting to turn around. At least we've stopped the false advertising (we used to have lots of useful-looking dead links).