I started a new book today, Breathing Space, by Heidi Neumark, a phenomenal Lutheran preacher in New York. It's about her experiences in a small parish in the South Bronx. I can't put it down.


On the way to work, a gentlemen got on the bus in a wheelchair. I haven't seen this happen *too* often, but the driver showed immaculate care in helping him aboard. Lowering the ramp, buckling him in, making conversation. There was dignity and grace in the way they interacted. I caught myself staring. I don't want to be presumptuous, but I think it was one of the highlight's of the driver's day. It certainly was one of mine.


I've been up for three hours already, and it's before 9am. That is downright amazing to me.


I leave for the seminary in Philadelphia tomorrow morning. I find it harder and harder to get motivated on weekends - Mostly all I want to do is watch movies and be lazy at Beth Shalom. If there's one thing I can say for 9-5 workdays, it is this: On the weekends, I can do absolutely nothing, and love every second of it.


Sometimes I am utterly speechless when I think about the infinite 'things' that are happening, have happened, and will continue to happen, all around me. I don't know if that makes sense, but the less it does, the more it will probably reflect how I feel.


Today is Friday. This is what I can think to write on Friday morning, before 9am.