I’ll give you ONE guess who’s preaching this Sunday at our church.
And it’s NOT Lazy Dad. He gets to preach EVERY Sunday at church.
No, no, it’s someone who is incredibly gorgeous…….
As in M-E.
Yes, about once a year Lazy Dad
forces me uh, asks me to preach against my will. And I always oblige after I try to talk him out of it.
So yeah… this Sunday… it’s ON.
I get to preach on the heart and what lurks inside of it. Something I wrote about recently in my Parenting the Lazy Mom Way series.
Although, my sermon won’t be about parenting the heart, it will be about another subject of the heart. But I’ll still get a good warm up for my preachin’ on Friday’s Lazy Mom Radio Show since parenting the heart is our subject for the show that day.
So. Am I nervous?
Well, as the years go by, I get less and less nervous about preaching on a Sunday morning. Because one should note that preaching on a SUNDAY MORNING is waaaaaaaay more scarey than preaching on any other day of the week.
Any other day of the week and you’re just “speaking” to a group of people, not “preaching.” Am I right? And I can handle the “speaking” thing any time. Bring it on. But throw Sunday Morning at me, and all of a sudden my “notes” become a “sermon” and my “speaking” turns into “preaching” and my “perspiration” becomes “sweatin’ like a man.”
Did any of that make sense?
Anyway, the first year Lazy Dad asked me I was BESIDE myself. I kept trying to talk him out of it and come up with some excuse as to why I couldn’t do it. But he wouldn’t listen to me (he has that horrible selective hearing disease men have). So I literally couldn’t sleep or eat for a month over it.
Okay, okay, I could eat. You all know me better than that. I confess I just threw “eat” in there because it goes well with “I couldn’t sleep” and for the sake of blog writing continuity it sounded good together.
So okay, the only thing I COULD do was eat. I possibly may sorta kinda every once in a while stress eat, remember?
So yes, first year, I was SCARED TO DEATH. But I survived. Barely.
The second year, I wasn’t nearly as nervous. That time I couldn’t sleep
or eat for a week. It was a total improvement seeing as the first time was a month of no sleeping or eating.
And the third year? Wait. Is this the third year? Or is this the fourth year? I’ve lost track.
Well, no matter, this year when he asked me I didn’t even blink an eye. I only tried to talk him out of it once by saying, “are you sure YOU don’t want to preach?” But when he answered with “no” and I countered with “you’re going to make me do this aren’t you?” I accepted it without a single butterfly in my stomach.
AND I have been sleeping just fine. And eating. Well, eating as usual. Unfortunately. (Why can’t I have that “no eating” thing like other people in the world?)
Dare I say, I’m even excited to preach this Sunday? I mean, Lazy Dad only lets me do it once a year. Geesh, I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting. Listening to sermon after sermon after sermon of HIS. I’d say it’s high time I get a turn. *cough* pulpit hog *cough*
Good grief. Share the pulpit already. I’ve been waiting forever.
Now, where’s those brownies?