by the Night Writer
I was eating breakfast yesterday morning when a dark vision suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, nearly making me choke on my bagel: it was my son-in-law, clad in his ministerial black shirt with the white tab collar.
“HOLY…,” I said (let’s just leave it at “holy”).
“I know,” he said, “I forgot the belt.”
Actually, my shock was equal parts never having seen him in such a frock and the fact that the clothes he usually wears look as if they were ironed by being placed under the mattress. To see him in charcoal slacks and his “work shirt” was a bit of a surprise, and I was too stunned to take a photo. I’m sure there’s someone, somewhere, who would be very proud to see him thus attired.
He started his internship this week at St. Mary Magdalene Lutheran Church (A Lutheran Church With a Catholic Name and an Evangelical Heart).
Sounds appropriate, he is living among aliens.
Yup, I’m ironing for the Lord!
Congrats–the wag in me, though wants to ask if he was wearing his tags with the “dog collar”. :^)
I’m guessing that you insisted on the proper shots before he married Faith, of course.