After breaking my fast this morning, I retired to the back porch to engage in that ancient pasttime of porch sittin'. I had the house to myself as my father is busy at work with tax season, brother one is at college, brother two is at high school, and mom went to a nail appointment. Since I finished the first book I brought down, I picked up the second, set up my chair, and settled in. Twenty or so pages into the book, I'm not overly impressed yet; it's kind of cheesy so far, but I'll give it some time. Nature was a buzz this morning and I watched the doings of the creatures who call my backyard home almost as much as I read. Squirrels bounded playfully from tree to tree, never missing a branch. Birds chirped and flited about. There were many robins, including several young ones just figuring out how their wings were suppossed to work and I enjoyed watching their trials. A male cardinal, majestically resplendant in his red coat, made an appearence, portending rain. He was quickly followed by the somewhat rarer sighting of a female companion with a beak of blazing orange. A wood duck showed up amid a flurry of beating wings and disturbed shrubbery. The lizards were as abundant as ever, going to and fro without a care for these silly birds. His majesty the monarch butterfly showed up to light upon a branch briefly. A wasp minded its own business for once. I went back to reading for a moment and then all grew suspiciously quiet. I looked up and the reverie had ended; the players disappeared. Odd, thought I, until a pair of dark shadows crossed the yard. Looking up I observed the pair of shadows belonged to a pair of red-shouldered hawks, predatorially gliding around, effectively ruining the play of the morning backyard companions. Ah well...eco-systems must abide I suppose. Then, the phone rang, bringing me back to my own world.
On the other end was a voice from the past, an old dear friend who moved away first to Texas for college and then to Louisanna where his father took a new job as the rector of a parish bearing the same name as his former parish in Fort Myers. I've not seen or heard from Michael in years, so it was good talking to him. He was calling because he was on the road near Winston-Salem and wanted some advice on where he should take his lunch. Without hesitating I directed him to a Bojangles - that quintessestial fried chicken joint that I miss so much. We chatted then of many things, catching each other up on what we were doing and where we were headed. He was on his way to a job interview at a church in Colombia, SC for a youth minister position, his life's calling. It was a great and pleasant surprise to hear from him and it put me in mind of times gone by. He's the kind of guy, that, when I find myself in a church and want to get a great youth program going, should not be surprised to get a call from me. Michael does good work and is so grounded in the Lord and in His service that he stands testament to the faith for many people, not just the youth. I wish him luck.