That's My Church!

Since the cat has been more or less let out of the bag about my Episco-blogging at my Church, I've had a number of people come up and give me the equivalent of a pat on the back and a "Good job!"

Nice to know that I'm not just a singleton loose cannon.

UPDATE: Speaking of things, it's been a tradition at my church to designate the Sunday before Lent as "Jazz Sunday." We blow a sizable chunk of our music budget to bring in a trumpet, trombone, bass and drums, and the majority of the music for the services is, well, jazz/spiritual in nature. Eh. It's really not my thing, but I just tell myself that I'm starting my Lenten penance a wee bit early by sitting through it silently. (And for once this is something our Catholic friends can't throw stones about. I've been to Mass with the LMC and I know what Rome can serve up by way of liturgical tunes!)

Anyhoo, it turned out that the Offeratory hymn was a Salve, Regina lifted, according to the program, out of the movie Sister Act and belted with great gusto by the assistant rector, backed up by the choir. I happened to be head usher today, aided and abetted by the eldest Llama-ette. After we had collected the offerings, we stood patiently at the back until the singing was over. When the choir hit the high note and came to an end, the congregation burst into applause.

Suddenly, I heard an angry whisper coming from my side. "Daddy! I thought people weren't supposed to clap at Church!"

Heh. That's my girl!