curve balls.

I was riding in the lead car to the cemetery for a funeral last week with my … erm … favorite funeral director.  [Favorite for a story I haven’t shared with you.  The last time we worked together on a funeral he violated my personal bubble by making the sign of the cross on my thigh while we rode to the cemetery.  I was disturbed.  Needless to say, the next time around I sat as close to the door and as far away from him as I could.  Now he just puts me on edge!]  This cemetery was a good fifteen minutes from the funeral home where the service had been.  [Even more time for him to invade my space.  But luckily he didn’t.]  We made small talk to and from.

So how are things going out at Red Oak Grove? he asked.

Well, there are getting to be fewer curve balls.

He laughed.  I think he thought I was kidding.  I’ll take laughing, as long as he’s not touching my leg.

As with any new job, there are curve balls!  Gradually, I’m getting through the firsts.  First Christmas.  First funeral.  First Easter.  First interactions with certain people.

But then with this week, I’m learning I’m still up to bat and there are curve balls a plenty.  

First wedding.  First wedding where there is little to no communication about anything.  First you’re-going-to-come-and-pray-at-the-reception-dinner-right? question the night of rehearsal even though I was never formally invited.  First funeral where a person involved wants to co-opt it from the preacher.  Figuring out air conditioning systems and audio systems.  Learning how to run a wedding rehearsal with fourteen attendants on either side.

I’m surviving.  I’m still alive.  But I’m sure ready for it to be Sunday evening.