Last Call

Delilah and I are spending the waning hours of my sabbatical at (where else?) Coffee Labs in Tarrytown. It’s fitting since this has been my regular hangout for the past ten weeks. Some clergy might spend their sabbatical at a Tibetan monastery with the Dalai Lama. They probably drink a lot of green tea and meditate all day. I’m drinking a few cups of El Salvadorian Santa Rita coffee before I get Zack off the bus to go baseball cleat shopping. The parallels are uncanny.

I know the barristas at CL (or is that barristi? — there’s a debate in coffee circles) will miss seeing me everyday. Or at least that’s what they tell me when I don’t have my back turned. I’ll have to get back to my once a week trip here for my Thursday morning sermon writing routine. Which may be a shock to my (well-caffeinated) system.

And I’m going to have to start shaving on a regular basis again. No one wants a priest with lousy facial hair wandering around at coffee hour. So I’ll just come clean and hope I don’t end up like a modern-day Samson — losing my superhuman strength by shaving. And what would Delilah think?

But it’s time to get back to work. I’ve just started to get in Bryna’s way as I wander aimlessly around the house. She hasn’t said anything but I can tell. And I think that’s a sure sign that she’s ready for my sabbatical to end.

So tomorrow it’s back to the salt mines. My sabbatical has been productive and renewing. But it’s time.



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