The Smallest Church You Never Saw In Your Life

In an interview with the Washington Post, The Episcopal Church's newly promoted leader, Dr. Budde (pronounced Budd-ee) had this to say:

“We’re like a boutique. We’re the most inclusive church in the world that’s the tiniest church in Christendom. . . . I’m not interested in being the leader of a boutique church.”

If the shoe fits... Budde.

LSP

A Handful Of Tack

Picked up a handful of tack and headed off for an episode of ride and shoot, only to discover that JB has Pigeon Fever, which is a nasty disease resulting in an abscess. Curable, fortunately. I rode Bebop instead and we had a good old gallop along the edge of a couple of large fields.

I loved that; Bebop can fairly fly along and we had plenty of space for it. Picked up a dog too and that was fine until he decided it'd be a neat trick to bite the horse's back legs while we were running. Bebop wasn't too keen on that game and made several good efforts to kick the dog out of existence -- stay in the saddle LSP! -- but no one, horse, hound or rider came to harm. 

I like a gallop, clears the head.

In other news, Jefferts Schori, boy bishop leaderene of The Episcopal Church, has written a book. She thinks that Our Lord was like a Hell's Angel who took toys to poor people, when not "messing about in boats" or being a "party animal." Well, nothing like a bit of christology to get the mind working...

Stay in the saddle,

LSP

Hugging The Emu

After Mass (Advent II, '28 BCP Lectionary), I visited Miguel and Teresa to bless their house. They have many children and one came flying up to the gate of their 4 acre spread, shouting out "Father, Father! Come in!" Excited little chap. So I drove through and couldn't help but notice an...

Emu. There it was, stalking along, like some prehistoric beast. Miguel came out to meet me and I asked him about the bird, our conversation went like this:

"I say, Miguel, is that your Emu?"

"Yes Father."

"Remarkable!"

"You can hug him!"

"Well, that's quite a thing."

I resisted the temptation to "hug the Emu" as I didn't want to chase the bird down; foolish. Next time I will test the creature's affection.

I'm proud of Miguel and Teresa. He's building their house as they live in it and she's helping him; I'd say that wasn't easy. Very faithful people and very devout. Their daughters tell me of an evil elf who steals the souls of babies.

Holy water will drive that away.

LSP

Range Day

Tired of my slothful ways and full of Advent penitence, I loaded some guns into the truck, restocked on Winchester "Whitebox", thank you Walmart, and drove off to a parishioner's 150 yard range. I like it there in the middle of the countryside around Brandon and nicely secluded. Just you and the guns.

Tested out the newly refurbished .22 Higgins (tube magazine, bolt, iron sights) from 50 and 100 yards. It's feeding problems had been solved by my Waco 'smith friend and, considering a bit of rustiness on my part, shot well. A "tack driver"? In the right hands, yes, and I was pleased to see the center of the target pretty much destroyed.

range road

Then it was time for some AR fun. Proper "little heater" that carbine; after a few magazines of target practice I practiced my walk/run and shoot skills, only to discover that I didn't really have many... childish, but fun. I'm tempted to get optics for that rifle, but haven't decided on the most useful. I like the Trijicon Accupoint, or the ACOG, but dislike the price tag. Still, maybe worth saving for.

.45 followed 5.56 amusement. Total enjoyment shooting against spinners from 20-25 yards. Spent most of my effort on the dinner plate; satisfying to hear the pistol explode and see the plate swing off. Had decent success against the next size down, which surprised me because I was badly out of practice. A testament to muscle memory.

It was interesting to retrieve the rounds. After hitting the spinner they flattened off to the size of a nickel and shot off about 10 feet to my right of the target. Doubtless a moral in that if you care to draw it.

Finished off with weapons cleaning in the range's small shooting house and headed back as the sun was setting.

For me, at that moment, all was right with the world.

God bless,

LSP

Deep Sea Lee

Visited a gunsmith yesterday in Waco to pick up my venerable .22 JC Higgins. The 'smith had replaced several springs, a pin and built up the lifter, all for the remarkably sane price of $35. 

So we fell to talking about Lee Enfields.

Putin - get rid of that old Mosin Nagant.

My friend thought they were OK, but only as "boat guns". Boat guns? Yes. For killing sharks. 

Now we know.

Result.

LSP

Black Friday

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Today is Black Friday. It started with Morning Prayer, followed by Mass. And now? A visit to the gun shop.

That's the ticket.

LSP

Happy Thanksgiving

About to pound the mahogany in Dallas and, despite my sympathy for The Cause, I found Lincoln's Thanksgiving Proclamation (1863) pretty moving. So here it is:

"The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequalled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle, or the ship; the axe had enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.

No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to his tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union."

Powerful words.

Have a blessed and happy Thanksgiving,

LSP

Monsignor Stetson

Keen eyed observers of the current state of Anglican-Roman Catholic relations in the U.S. might think that this post is all about the Pastoral Provision. But no, it's just about my new hat, which I bought from Cavenders. It's a Larry Mahan, the horsehair band and "stampede string" are extras.

Some kind of sad pose? Not really, I usually wear a ball cap to ride in and that's fine but doesn't give a lot of protection from the blistering sun. The straw hat, with its wide brim, solves that dilemma. I've promised one to the Fact Compiler.

Stetson

The Pastoral Provision solved the dilemma of married Anglican priests who wanted to become Roman Catholic Priests. Now that the Ordinariates are being set up I suppose the PP looks set for redundancy, but maybe not. Time will tell.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

Saddle Horn

The MC (Master of Ceremonies) at one of the Missions is a former bronc star. He won the world championship back in the '80s as pictured above.

He thinks me an "unlikely rider" and is concerned for my safety. The conversation after yesterday's Mass went something like this:

LSP: Off for a ride.

MC: Well you be careful.

LSP: Not to worry, if the going gets brisk I'll just hold on to the pommel thingy.

MC: Saddle Horn.

LSP: Ah yes! "Saddle Horn."

With that in mind, I had the Sunday afternoon fun of riding a well trained Arabian out by Waco with a group of parishioners. Fairly flew along, fast and flat over the fields, Western style. Didn't need the curious horn thing.

I want this saddle...

I love riding.

Stay in the saddle and, if you must, hold onto it - far better than bouncing off the ground, I always think.

Cheers,

LSP

Warrior On The Edge Of Skeet

I was just about to leave the house when I noticed a shotgun standing nonchalantly by a box of unopened clays.  "Put the gun in the truck," I thought to myself. 

don't shoot the fridge LSP, for goodness sake.

It's just a yobbish Mossberg Ulti Mag which I bought at a "Guitar & Gun Show" for $200. Why do those two things seem to go together? Whatever, the gun's been worth every penny; shot plenty of dove with it and the odd rabbit target of opportunity. It's a bit dinged up but that doesn't matter. Some people say it's no good with 3.5" shells but I wouldn't know, I just use 3" and the gun works fine.

So after a refreshing canter/hand gallop I unleashed the power of Mossberg against the hapless clay adversary.

I like shooting skeet. It's satisfying to watch them blow up.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Mariann Budde

This is the new leader of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington DC (EDOW), Mariann Budde. Her husband read a poem at the worship service which promoted her. Here's a bit, from Coleman's Bed by David Whyte:

Ghost then, to where others

in this place have come before,

under the hazel, by the ruined chapel,

below the cave where Coleman slept,

become the source that makes

the river flow, and then the sea

beyond.

What does it mean? That The Episcopal Church is a ruin inhabited by ghosts who possess dozing cave dwelling congregants, before drowning them in the sea? 

The Church of England has voted overwhelmingly in favour of wimmin bishops.

Good luck with that.

LSP

Wisdom of Solomon

Chickens have been making a takeover bid for my back yard, which is fine by me. I like to watch them scratch about, during the odd interlude in the fast paced, high pressure clerical lifestyle.

I was doing just that when DWN (Dog War Neighbor) knocked on the fence and asked if he could have a talk. DWN, who is a disabled vet and writes patriotic letters for me to give to George Bush - he's convinced I know him - wanted some advice. 

He used to have a small pick up truck in his drive, which a young NDW (ne'er do well) wanted to buy. DWN said "$1000", NDW offered $800. DWN accepted and NDW paid $700, on the spot, with a 'verbal' to pay the balance in two weeks.

DWN then took a working battery from his van and put it in the pick up to show NDW that the vehicle worked. NDW promptly got in the truck and drove off, with the battery, leaving DWN down one battery and owed $100. 

No title had changed hands and the pick up was still insured in DWN's name, which brings us to the present. A month after the 'deal', NDW still hadn't paid the balance and DWN was worried, on two scores.

Most importantly, for him, was the principle of the thing. If NDW was allowed to get away with casually walking off with other people's $100 he'd never learn responsibility in life. Secondly, the truck was still insured in DWN's name and he didn't want to be liable when NDW crashed the vehicle.

DWN was perplexed. He had prayed about it pretty hard and been to the police, who told him that repossessing the truck over a paltry $100 was kind of mean; DWN thought so too, but principle mattered. So he had taken the key to the truck (it was in the ignition) and the battery and left the vehicle outside NDW's house.

"Now pastor," said DWN, "what should I do?"

In the spirit of Solomon, I gave him two choices. He could keep the key with the proviso that NDW could have it back when he paid the outstanding money, at which point he'd get the truck and the title. Or, far better choice, DWN could give NDW his money back and repossess the truck.

The problem with 'option 1' is that lack of a key isn't going to stop NDW from driving the truck...

There's a moral in this, somewhere.

It's all going on in the countryside, I tell you.

LSP