The Hound of Heaven

Sometimes I do feel as if I'm the victim of an elaborate conspiracy.

Today I ran into a couple who own one of the other condos in my Dad's brownstone. They live in Washington too, and go to my church. They insisted upon taking me out to lunch, and getting me to tell them what was going on in my life.

They asked me about my classes at WTS. The husband zeroed in on the topic like a laser beam, and wouldn't let it go. "That's where you heart is, isn't it?"

I explained the many complications of my circumstance: financial, diocesan, chronological, personal.

"Aren't you ready to make a change?" he asked me. Oh if he only knew just exactly how ready; I'm in the throes of another work nightmare.

Their enthusiasm on my behalf seems to come out of nowhere. Do you think if I stuck my fingers in my ears and said "la-la-la-la-la" very loudly, I could avoid hearing this message again and again?

[P.S. The last word in depravity: using your Theology course readings as procrastination fodder. I have no shame.]