And there was evening, and there was morning: the first day (at Sewanee)

The conference officially starts with registration on Monday, but I always go up a day early. I made it to the Sewanee Inn by 3:30 on Sunday afternoon and proceeded immediately to catch up with a close friend and long-time fellow conferee. From there I went straight to the dinner after the Board meeting. It was a good and busy start to what will no doubt be a good and busy week.

On Monday morning I had a training session. The conference schedule is too packed for me to work in two sessions this week, but we did manage to find that one slot that worked for both of us, and I’m glad of that—not least because I pushed really, really hard and felt rather proud of myself afterward. My entire body is complaining today, admittedly.

I ate lunch at McClurg, Sewanee’s architecturally over-the-top dining hall.

I was nearly finished with the meal when something got stuck. My esophagus has been particularly recalcitrant lately. Thursday and Friday of last week were especially bad, and I toyed with the idea of canceling my trip. Instead I self-dilated and decided I’d hope for the best. So my lunch problem didn’t come as a surprise, though it was certainly unwelcome. I got the food unstuck on my walk back to the Inn (I think that’s an acceptably delicate way of putting it) and self-dilated again.

After registering I had Compline rehearsal at 2:00 and then met with the conference chaplain, Bishop Neil Alexander, at 3:00 to go over all those little liturgical details that it’s nice to know in advance. I’m his assisting priest all week.

And now rehearsal, under the direction of Bob Simpson, one of my very favorite choral conductors over the years. Among other things, he’s a marvelous teacher, and he plans rehearsals so effectively. We have a lot of music to learn. The consensus afterward is that it was the best first rehearsal any of us can remember.

After dinner—which my esophagus dealt with uncomplainingly—was Compline. We were a choir of eight. I had encouraged folks to wear their academic hoods if they had them, and they did. I of course threw on a tippet over mine. I think we sang really well.

And then a reception, but I was tired and went back to the Inn and made an early night of it. I woke up feeling so refreshed this morning, and because my body remains on Eastern Time, I was up early enough to write this admittedly not very interesting post.

In the midst of all of this, I’m fielding emails about a place in DC that I’ve fallen in love with. My realtor is on vacation, but he’s sending one of his colleagues to look at it. If there’s a good report—my realtor is concerned that there may not be enough light, and he knows that matters to me—I’ll be making a quick trip to DC next week. I don’t want some heathen buying the place out from under me.

Otherwise I’m trying to keep my non-Sewanee life at bay. I’ll do one piece of academic work over the week: I have a paper to referee for the Anglican Theological Journal. That seems a splendidly appropriate task for this time and place.

One last note: when I was introducing myself to the conference and talking about opportunities for pastoral conversation and the sacraments of reconciliation and healing, I emphasized that I’ll always have my leather bag with my stole, oil, and the relevant liturgies. So if the set times don’t work for people., just stop me outside McClurg or whatever and I can anoint you. “I can haul off and do a sacrament.”

I think that could have been expressed with greater finesse. I am sort of pleased, though, with me self-description as “a low-calorie Barbara Crafton substitute.”