Monde

It's like sitting in the tail-gunner's turret. You look behind you and see the world spread out, all its kingdoms and powers. And then you launch a hail of fire, and part of that is obscured, but not for long. Meanwhile, you remember the sermons good and bad, the self-aggrandizement and the self-humiliation, the true humility and the true grace, the many flavours and varieties of service and of style.

Like many wyverns who have left the nest, the Monday service is what we miss. It isn't for the substance always, but for the fact of its existence, the fact that there is an anchor that begins the week with the opportunity for reflection, for meditation, and for those who believe, God.

It's a lot like sitting in the tail-gunner's turret. Your parachute is just outside and you have a bunch of .50 cal heavy machine guns in front of you. If anything serious happens, you just might not get out in time. But you will go down with guns blazing, active till the last, just before your ascension into the heat of the day.