the man’s club.

8 Feb
Twice a month, I lead short worship services at the care center in Blooming Prairie.  I’ll be honest – I kinda sorta dread them.  I drag my feet and complain about going.  But I’ll also admit that most times, afterwards, I leave feeling pretty great about having been there.
I think the dread lies in the extra preparation and the they-normally-fall-asleep-on-me sermon uncertainty. I never know how to preach.  They’re a hard crowd to read.  But I always try … and that’s what counts, right?  Today, I had a woman pay me the highest compliment at the care center.  “I enjoyed your sermon.  I didn’t even fall asleep!”
After chapel is coffee and bar time.  I sat with a member named Lyle today … which meant sitting at the man table.  I enjoyed a date bar and coffee with Lyle, Art, Bud, and Charlie.  Seriously grand.  I wish I had a picture of them in their four wheelchairs around the table.  They talked about picking scabs [so not joking], the BP gossip, and the fact that I’m not married.  At one point, Lyle leaned over and said, “I bet you’re uncomfortable being at the man table.”  
Uncomfortable?  No.  Entertained?  Certainly.
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