Year Two

Advent begins the liturgical year, and so I begin year two.  I was trying to roll things about by November 1, but you, loyal readers, know about my slothfulness.  So here I am. In this past year, I  wanted to establish the habit of going to church.  So far so good.  I've been every week since finishing up my tour at the Basilica.

I've been to two old standards and some how managed to get to stewardship Sunday at both.  At one, the pastor pointed out that the Sunday evening mass collects $2000 in one dollar bills.  "This isn't planned giving," he said.  I would argue.  I had some crumpled up dollar bills in my pocket.  That was pretty amazing, because cash is kind of a novelty item for me.  And more importantly, there are churches where $2000 in pennies would be welcome.

This first week of Advent, I made it to another old favorite.  Or at least a place I want to be a favorite.  But it was driving me a little crazy.  And Father Fire and Brimstone didn't leave me feeling all warm and Christmasy.  But I'm too stubborn to give this up.  (By the way, why do people say stubborn like it's a bad thing?)

I don't know that I can come up with an idea as great as this last one or even if the new year has to top the old one.  I tried getting ideas from my friends, who proved to be less than merciful.  I'm not, for example, attempting to start a prayer group for  pagan babies.

It's not much, but here's what I've got.  52 new things.  New churches.  Parish activities.  My own personal book club.  Acts of service.  The best part?  I make the rules, so I say what counts.

And then I got to thinking, if I can put this part of my life in order (well, sort of), can I launch another personal project?  More on that later.  For now, my gift has been placed under the sharing tree and I'm reading (very slowly) The Jesuit Guide to Almost Everything.  Happy Advent.