I keep forgetting how much I like being outside.
Before leaving for VTS last Wednesday, I had a emergency e-mail from the director of Camp Gravatt seeking a celebrant for their family camp on Sunday morning. Clear about preparation time while away -- the lack thereof, I was touched when she offered a camp staff "sermon skit" and I said I'd be there by 8:30AM.
Now, I don't want to run a camp or even be a regular at session closing worship, but it was a wonderful morning. It was still cool and in the shade under the trees the breeze coming from the left and ruffling the pages of my prayerbook was pure delight.
About six families had taken the diocese up on the family camp experiment, introducing both parents and young children to Gravatt itself and to camp activities. So, there was a small, lively, interested group of worshippers, to include eight eager staffers (one among them with a camera).
The little guy here in the red shirt had been told by his mother not to receive the bread, but take a look where his eyes are! He's not looking at me while I offer him a blessing and make the sign of the cross; the items on the paten have his attention. I'd just love to know what he's thinking.