Here we are in a new town and we have an ominous task before us: finding a new church. Oh, the dreaded church search. How I hate thee. “Shopping” for a new church is like shopping for that one piece of clothing you have in your head – for example, a pair of tan corduroy pants with wide legs and a snug top. Chances are, you will never find just what you are looking for, no matter how many stores you search, and you will inevitably end up settling for something vaguely similar, like off white corduroys with a bootleg cut and a too-stretchy top that will irritate you every time you wear them. I know from experience. I have yet to find my corduroys.
I went for a jog this morning. Oh, let me rephrase that. My mind and my determination went for a jog this morning, but my jiggly belly and my pickle-sized lungs went for a gasping, wheezing limp around the neighborhood. I had my course set for the beach. I didn’t make it. And it’s a good thing too, because if I had, then the lifeguards would have discovered my collapsed body somewhere along the shore and heaved me “back” into the ocean.