Confirmation part II: electric bugaloo

So to be confirmed you gotta take classes. I'm down. I'm the first to admit that I lack liturgical book learnin'. That's the downside to not being a cradle Episcopalian. They've got years and years of vacation bible school and youth groups and stuff. I've got a hungry mind and eight years of pretty regular church. Oh, and I like gin, that's gotta count for something.

After Canterbury, I pretty much stuck to myself; I never really got involved in the pastoral side of church. I lean towards lone wolfdom anyway; not because I'm antisocial or shy, I'm just perfectly happy hanging out inside my own brain and with a single exception; all of my great spiritual revelations have come to me while I was on my own, so I think I'm on the right track. (I'd like to give a Strunk and White-style shout-out to the semicolon, the most maligned of punctuation, for helping me with that wickedly long sentence)

That being said, I'm glad I'm in a class, especially because I'm in the situation of I don't know what I don't know, and the only thing I DO know is that I don't know a damn thing. I can say damn, by the way because the dean emeritus of ETSS said it. If I wore socks he would have rocked them right off and I surely learned more from him in an hour and a half of round-table discussion than I learned from anyone in college ever.

After class I was in such a prayerful and scriptural mood I headed straight home (well, actually I stopped to get a tuna sub first, but I think that sort of counts, loaves and fishes and all) read half of Galatians and went "aaaah ha!"

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