First things first: Holy Communion brought to well over a hundred miles away, here and there in the backsides of the beyond in these mountain ridges (I love bringing Jesus around through his creation to His loved ones).
Meanwhile, target practice. I thought this tin can filled with dirt and swinging from a string from a branch 35 feet up (giving a long quick arc) would be good. See above. Nope. Too easy to smash apart. The neighbor gave me a good suggestion. Tie up a thin but heavy stick and get that moving. I could spray paint a line around it and shoot it in half at the line. That should makes things a bit more difficult. I’ll have to remember that.
Meanwhile, on one of my stops I was taught how to make potato soup. This is significant for me, since I have a total mental block about cooking anything more difficult than toast and cereal, though I have been known to make a hamburger with bacon and, of course, pasta. But this soup thing is a big step for me.
And then it was off to Sylva where the bishop did the Confirmation and installed a new pastor of the parish. Father is a friend. I didn’t ask him if he is Jewish. I am. He was wearing a yarmulke with a Star of David on it (not during Mass). The previous pastor had a shofar…
Other priests from the diocese were there, friends, also my neighbors from the hermitage. We had gone out for ice cream before Mass.
After the festivities, the bishop and I had a long chat, very productive, very helpful, far reaching. We have the best bishop in the world. I got home about midnight.
Today was follow up with the meeting with the bishop, and now, Communion calls, then Mass. Away I go. I love being a priest.