I went to the K.s' church by myself, because everyone else was leading a retreat/at a school meeting/studying/elsewhere. It was strange to sit there without any one of the pieces that normally connects me to the people in that sanctuary, and yet I have been there so many times that I felt safe and familiar there.
I was the only person clapping for Go Tell It on the Mountain, though. I am really not sure how anyone can possibly get through that song without clapping. It seems just totally wrong. This is what comes of Dutch-American churches.
On the drive home, there were accidents and bottlenecks, and it seemed that half the state or more was driving down the one single highway. Slowly. I drove lurchingly (stop-and-go traffic is the one time when a manual transmission is not a boon), and A. and I talked about life and boys and the impossibility of not caring too much.
I was the only person clapping for Go Tell It on the Mountain, though. I am really not sure how anyone can possibly get through that song without clapping. It seems just totally wrong. This is what comes of Dutch-American churches.
On the drive home, there were accidents and bottlenecks, and it seemed that half the state or more was driving down the one single highway. Slowly. I drove lurchingly (stop-and-go traffic is the one time when a manual transmission is not a boon), and A. and I talked about life and boys and the impossibility of not caring too much.
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