I had a dream last night. Looking back I can recall snippets of events and conversations that contributed to the combination of images and participating characters. In this dream I was at my grandparents' house. Most of the dream actually took place in the basement, and it was one of those moments where I clearly was not in my grandparents' basement but in my dream I knew it was my grandparents' basement. This basement had a lot more room and was free of clutter. In fact, I don't even remember a furnace or laundry appliances. Anyway, there was a drum set off to one side, and other people setting some things up. And why? Because we were about to have a worship service. And we were expecting lots of people. Apparently I had started a church in my grandparents' house and they didn't mind.
One way that no one really wants to start off their year is by officiating at two funerals in the same month. The second one is this afternoon...the second-oldest member of our congregation.
Saturday was the day to sit down with the family and discuss the service. In and of itself, this was not particularly monumental. It was the context of the entire day that made it interesting. I met with them, and then had to switch gears to have a pre-marital conversation (don't call it counseling or you can get sued) with a couple. There was some point during this conversation that I had to marvel to myself at how versatile a calling this is...I'd gone from the end of life to starting a new life over the span of a couple hours.
This will be the second wedding at which I'll officiate with people for whom this is a second (or more) marriage. These weddings are so cool...the couple has gotten over the felt need for a storybook afternoon with runners and bows and blah blah blah. They've been there and done that and now want to build a new beginning with one another without all the forgettable frivolous add-ons that younger first-timers can't get over.
Speaking of younger first-time wedding stuff, I'll be the officiant at my best friend's wedding this summer. They're doing it while on a New England cruise. Mrs. Jeff won't be able to come. "Who's that guy sitting all alone on that deck chair with a bottle of merlot and a scowl on his face? Isn't that the pastor?"
I don't think that anyone else who reads this is a wrestling fan. Meh. I don't care. Last night was my favorite yearly pay-per-view event, the Royal Rumble. In the Royal Rumble, 30 wrestlers enter this one match and the only way to be eliminated is to be thrown over the top rope. The winner gets a World Title shot at Wrestlemania, the WWE equivalent of the Super Bowl. I would have hopped over to the movie theater that shows these, but I couldn't scrounge up the cash. And apparently I missed one of the better ones in a while. Anyway, for the two people who might care, The Undertaker won. For non-wrestling fans, yes, there's a wrestler named The Undertaker. For wrestling fans, yes, he's still around.
Okay, then. That's it.