Do you hear that sound?
That’s the sound of me begging your forgiveness.
When I last left you, I was moving back to Texas. Well…I moved!
…which was equal parts the worst decision I’ve ever made (think, reasons I can’t even legally talk about on my blog) and one of the better decisions I’ve ever made (think, northern California is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever seen in the world).
I’ve been tormented and have wanted to flee back to you, dear readers, for weeks. The catalyst came this afternoon while I’m walking the streets of San Francisco (because oh yeah, I’m basically homeless and living out of a carryon suitcase and price lined hotel rooms) slipped into a coffee shop and sat on the patio enjoying the sunshine. I overheard the following statement from a guy hanging out with some friends.
They were clearly hipster theology majors.
The unwashed hair, tattered copy of “A History of Christianity” and stench of old marijuana gave them away.
(I still love y’all, theology majors.)
“I can’t wait until the very first married priest says ‘F*** you’ to the Vatican in his homily.”
The friends solemnly nodded their agreement. And I just couldn’t take it anymore. “Considering the Eastern rites have had married priests for centuries and the Roman rite didn’t disallow married priests until the middle ages, that ship has sailed. Not to mention the married Protestant pastors that convert to Catholicism and can receive dispensations to become ordained.” I know there are more nuances to it than that, but really, the amount of Catholic hating that occurs on the West Coast is even more intense than the Midwest, and I’m feeling particularly volatile right now.
The budding Hauerwas glared at me and countered, “Who the f*** do you think you are? A secret Vatican spy?
Since you mention it.
This post is for you, sir.
Please wash your hair.
I really wish I could tell you everything that has happened, but I can’t. Maybe I can have coffee with each and every one of you some day and then we can swap stories. Or we can meet over a few beers and swap even better stories!
In the meantime:
I remain yours. Faithful in spirit if not in deed.
Which, ironically, has been the sentiment held by more than one ex. Whatev.