I drove down to the Capital of the Confederacy this morning - relied on a mix tape of Latin music (Tropicalia with Caetano Veloso/Gilberto Gil/OsMutantes, Afro-Cuban jazz (Francophila), and a podcast of Morning Prayer to get me there reasonably awake. It was a worthwhile, albeit exhausting, trip - 90 miles of Nascar driving south then 90 miles of the same back (until I ran into the traffic jam in Occoquan about 12 miles from home). For the traffic jam, I listened to some Paolo Conte, a great Italian jazz singer who expresses existential angst better than anyone except Lotte Lenya. And there is no existential angst like sitting in stopped traffic on Rt 95 just below the Mixing Bowl.
Our Bishop Coadjutor okayed me doing Deacon's Mass at Saint Middle School, given our unique circumstances. It really is quite a marvelous thing - I will pick up consecrated elements from the mother church early Sunday morning and we will conduct a service in which I can preside over the whole thing, front to back, and distribute the consecrated elements. In the Episcopal Church, this is very unusual, and I am grateful that he saw the need and trusts me with it.
We also had a good discussion about my job situation, the options in play, what we all think about that, what we will pray about...nothing conclusive about anything, but very supportive. I really like this guy, the more I talk with him. We didn't have time to chat about the deployment process, but we agreed to meet again very soon about that.
So I didn't solve all the problems of the world in one hour, but together we fixed a couple of them, and for that I am grateful.
And I didn't hit any other vehicles on the highway, nor was I hit. I am grateful for that, too.