Our denominational conference annual meeting coincides this year with the Cinco de Mayo celebration here in Yakima. Yakima is a desert town of no more than 75000 people, where, according to the Spanish-launguage newspaper I picked up yesterday, 14,000 fuerza marched at the immigrants rights rally on May 1st. Anyway, I'm in the hotel lobby (wireless does not reach our room way at the end of the universe) at 12:10 am while young, gorgeously dressed people walk in and out of the hotel bar.
I havent written too much in a while - I've been stretched thin, as Bilbo would say, like butter spread over too much toast. It's just math - I simply can't have less childcare (now that Eli's not in daycare), more responsibilities at home (now that we have no help for money reasons) and more sleep (the one sure thing that helps these damn headaches is 9 hours of sleep out of every 24) and do everything I've been used to. So this writing had to go, but I've missed it. I'm squeezing it in now, on this sort-of work weekend that, because my family is here and because it's a break in the regular routine, really feels like a vacation.
We havent had the real sticky meetings yet, those come tomorrow, so after an ethics training all day (big message: anyone can become a sexual predator if they don't watch out. so watch out.) on Thursday, we spent Friday hanging out and re-connecting with folks. It's a good time Eli is big enough to really enjoy himself this year instead of feeling abandoned in the childcare room. I've been reminded all day of the sweetness of church people, who so earnestly love the church and so honestly want to make a change for themselves (uh, I guess that would be OURselves) and the world. And also, of the weirdness of spending cinco de mayo talking about the church in the world and how to be more relevant and, you know, REAL...in a hotel convention center.
Dude, the real world is just. right. outside.