Be at peace, oh my soul. It is a transitional week, as I prepare to step away from Good Shepherd Lutheran Church for a while. For a while (maybe longer, who knows), relinquishing the heavenly cockpit to Pastor Paul, my predecessor at the church. I step away to be surgically reshaped at Providence Hospital, St. Vincent in Portland. Three arteries that hang from my beating heart, that have become worn-out and clogged, are to be replaced by fresher arteries from elsewhere in my body that, for some reason, just aren’t as beaten up.

I don’t know why that is. I don’t know why the design of the good stuff is not so much at the center, but is out in the regions of legs, arms and behinds. This pastor is going to be reconfigured by arterial pipes from these nether regions that are just less clogged up with the glue of French fries, bacon grease and tallow.

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