The Treasures in the Box (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

I got a surprise ---well, surprises--- this week.

I looked out the front door and saw a small box snugged up against the brick wall. That wasn't surprising; we get quite a few boxes. The surprise, the first one anyway, is that it was addressed to me. There are many boxes arriving at our door, but few of them are addressed to me.

I have a small confession. I love it when a box is addressed to me; feels like Christmas or my birthday all over again. I thought that might diminish as I grew older, but it hasn't. It's one of the ongoing joys of my life. As soon as I see my name on the box, I feel the endorphin rush and that goofy grin spreading across my face. Every single time.

I already loved it and I hadn't even opened it.

The second surprise, and definitely the bigger surprise is what I found inside: letters, 30 or 40 of them, and all of them from the mystery that was my father.

You could get to know Dad, but only the pieces he chose to reveal. As father and son, Dad and I occupied the same residence for about two decades. Then I knew him, adult-to-adult so to speak, for almost three more decades. All of those years, and yet, I knew very little about him. It seems like other people can rattle off tale after tale of each parent's childhood, school years, romances, and careers. And I can do some of that, but there is a very, very limited supply of those stories about Dad. He just didn't share much with us.

Maybe he was, as I have always assumed, just a very private person. He definitely personified the saying, "Still waters run deep." He was also, in my view, the kind of person who, "kept his own counsel." In recent years, I have concluded Dad may well have been an introvert, living deep within himself and only surfacing from time to time to interact with the rest of us as needed.

The period of Dad's life of which I know the least is his service during World War II. Dad rarely talked about the war. This puzzled me as a child; many a childhood friend told me tales of their father's service. But as I became an adult, and several of my own friends were returning from the Vietnam War, I gained some understanding. Some things are too hard to recall, much less tell to children. In time, I just packed away all my questions about that time in his life, accepting that he might never be able to tell me more than the very handful of stories he had already shared.

The box was from my cousin, the daughter of one of dad's sisters. The letters? Almost all from Dad during World War II.

I immediately opened the letter on top. Dad's handwriting was difficult for me to read. But I could understand enough to realize just what a treasure I now possessed. Here was a young man with a lightness of spirit I never saw in my Dad. He was having a little fun with my aunt and uncle. My Dad, funny. Funny! Mind-blowing. And then, not three sentences in, he referred to his "wife."

Wait. What?!

Dad didn't meet my mother until AFTER the war. Who was this wife? And where did she go? I checked a couple more of the letters; all referenced his wife. After the shock, I found myself experiencing something else, a kind of hope. I will learn something new about my father, and from his own hand.

I am amazed to have such a treasure appear at this point of my life. In time, we will transcribe them and share their content with my sister and the rest of the family. Thousands of questions have resurrected themselves, now; questions I had long ago decided could never be answered. I can no longer ask Dad. It's likely I will never, "understand all mysteries." But at least now, I may get some answers.

And get to know him a little better.

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See more reflections at
http://steveorr.blogspot.com
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (January 31, 2016)
First reading
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm
Psalm 71:1-6
Second reading
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Gospel
Luke 4:21-30
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Winter continues, but it's warm at Lectionary Breakfast! Can you gather with us Friday morning at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant? We start at 8:00, enjoying an hour (ish) of food, friendships, and illumination from God's word.

Mysteries are revealed.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

What Got You Here Won't Get You There (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

We know what that means. We do.

Different parts of a journey are approached differently. Different phases of a process require different actions. If you use a map to travel across the plains, you wouldn't use the same map to cross the mountains. Different terrain, different map. When it's time to harvest, a farmer would not use the planting routine to harvest the crops. You plant one way and harvest another.

When Marshall Goldsmith wrote the book, What Got You Here a Won't Get You There, he applied this same understanding to career advancement. He explained that the processes people employ for making it as a worker in the working world do not apply to positions of management. This was not Goldsmith's way to brand managers as non-workers. Rather, it was an acknowledgment that the worker and the manager have different jobs; different uses of their time, different objectives; different tools.

In short, the book's title.

The book was aimed at people who either are in, or aspire to, management. It lays out a map, if you will, of milestones such persons must achieve. It explains that some of the old must give way to the new; that if not, the person will not succeed on this new journey.

The Hebrews selection in this week's Lectionary scripture addresses a similar situation faced by those who desire a relationship with God. The Hebrew writer succinctly sums up much of what Jesus tried to communicate to Israel's leaders; the Priests, scribes, Pharisees, and teachers of the law.

“The old plan was only a hint of the good things in the new plan. Since that old “law plan” wasn’t complete in itself, it couldn’t complete those who followed it. No matter how many sacrifices were offered year after year, they never added up to a complete solution. If they had, the worshipers would have gone merrily on their way, no longer dragged down by their sins. But instead of removing awareness of sin, when those animal sacrifices were repeated over and over they actually heightened awareness and guilt. The plain fact is that bull and goat blood can’t get rid of sin.

"That is what is meant by this prophecy, put in the mouth of Christ: You don’t want sacrifices and offerings year after year; you’ve prepared a body for me for a sacrifice. It’s not fragrance and smoke from the altar that whet your appetite. So I said, “I’m here to do it your way, O God, the way it’s described in your Book.” When he said, “You don’t want sacrifices and offerings,” he was referring to practices according to the old plan. When he added, “I’m here to do it your way,” he set aside the first in order to enact the new plan— God’s way—by which we are made fit for God by the once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus.”
(‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭10:1-10‬ ‭MSG‬‬. http://bible.com/97/heb.10.1-10.msg)

The old way, the way they clung to, was no longer viable. They would have to change if they wanted to be one of God's people. What had brought them to that point— the Law —could not get them any further. Jesus came in the fullness of time to fulfill the Law. It was done.

It's as if Jesus was telling them: what got you here won't get you there.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Fourth Sunday of Advent (December 20, 2015)
Micah 5:2-5a
Psalm 80:1-7
Hebrews 10:5-10
Luke 1:39-45, (46-55)

Loving the Bumpuses (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

"The Bumpuses were so low down on the evolutionary totem pole that they weren't even included in Darwin's famous family tree. They had inbred and ingrown and finally emerged from the Kentucky hills like some remnant of Attila the Hun's barbarian horde. Flick said that they had webbed feet and only three toes. It might have been true.” Jean Shepherd, A Christmas Story


If you've ever seen A Christmas Story, then you surely recognize that line from the voiceover narration. The Bumpuses were the family that lived next door to Ralphie Parker and his family. It was the Bumpus hounds who absconded with the Parker Christmas turkey. Author Jean Shepherd portrays them as caricatures, the ultimate hillbilly family (at least as perceived by those who considered themselves more sophisticated).

I went to church with a family very much like them . . . in some ways.

My Bumpuses had the requisite drawl, the car with the busted suspension, the rambunctious kids who just could not stay clean between their house and midweek services. Their clothes never seemed to fit; too large, too small, too long.

There were plenty of people who, I'm certain, could not see past the look and sound of them to realize what was right before their eyes. I heard the talk. I saw the looks. I quickly discerned how most of the folks in our congregation of believers regarded them: not quite measuring up, and not likely to ever do so; too hillbilly.

I will admit that, initially, I, too, was put off by their seeming disinterest in looking and acting like everyone else. I suspect their children may have had a few such moments, as well. But, the way they lived their lives soon won me over. At a crucial time in my development, God sent these simply-living, yet anything but simple, people into my life.

My Bumpuses were one of the very best things to happen to my young life. Think of the people who helped shape you into the person you are. My Bumpuses are high up on that list. I learned something so important from them, something I am sad to report I have seen far too little of in this life.

I didn't have a term for it, then. I just knew I was witnessing something I had read about but could not recall ever seeing. Now, to be fair, I have encountered this a few times since then. But my Bumpuses were the first, and they left a lasting impression.

I have a term for it now: Advent People.

My Bumpuses lived their lives as if every day was an Advent day, as people who were expecting Jesus, looking forward to His arrival. Yes, they seemed to give little thought to how they were dressed, the baby's drooping diaper, the loud creaking of the suspension whenever entering or exiting their old car, an accent that turned heads even in Kentucky.

But, in place of all that, they invested their time and energy into helping others. They were always available to help out. Always. They taught Sunday School when substitutes were needed. They did all of those behind-the-scenes kind of jobs that are so forgettable but so necessary. They were almost always the last to leave, just in case something needed doing.

And, for some reason, they took an interest in me.

I rode in that old car to church camp when my parents couldn't take me. I later learned that it was my Bumpuses who rounded up the camp fees when my mother had no extra funds. I had a front row seat, so to speak, to observe them pray, simply and earnestly. I could not count for you the numerous acts of kindness I saw these folks perform, and almost always on the down-low.

A lifetime of reflection has not eroded my view of them, and it is not idealized. Experience has taught me that they actually read their Bibles; that they understood that what Jesus said and did to others provides a template for how we should speak and act. And, perhaps most of all, they wanted to be found being just like that when they encountered Him.

My Bumpuses, my Advent People. Don't think they didn't know what others thought and said about them. They knew. They just didn't care. They were living, breathing examples of that well known A. W. Tozer quote, "I claim the holy right to disappoint men in order to avoid disappointing God."
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday of Advent (December 6, 2015)
First reading - Malachi 3:1-4
Psalm - Luke 1:68-79
Second reading - Philippians 1:3-11
Gospel - Luke 3:1-6
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Advent! A great time to spend with our brothers and sisters in Christ. Consider joining some of us at Lectionary Breakfast, Friday morning. We gather at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant for an hour like no other. We eat, we talk, we laugh; and all of it surrounding a reading of God's word.

Hope to see you there.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

The Deep Blue Sea (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

We were miles out, and no matter which direction I turned, there was no land to be seen. I recall thinking, this shouldn't bother me . . . But it did.

I was born and raised in west Kentucky. Water was a big part of my life. Our town sat at the confluence of two long, navigable rivers; the Ohio and the Tennessee. We played down by the river; I learned to water-ski on that boisterous confluence; I first operated a small motorboat there. Plus, a short 20 miles southeast of us was one of America's great inland playgrounds, Kentucky Lake and Lake Barclay, with their 265 square miles of parkland: The Land Between The Lakes. I learned to swim in those lakes; boated on them, water-skied on them, camped on them.

But, at 20 years of age, I had never been "at sea." No matter what body of water, I had always been able to see land. Now, here we were, well out into the Gulf of Mexico, and there was nothing to see but water in every direction.

I confess, I didn't much care for it.

But, I didn't want to be rude. Our family friends had offered to take me out for a day of fishing and "picnicking." Every other part of that day was nice. Our onboard repast of cheese, fruit, sandwiches, and soft drinks was delicious. The company ---a retired grocer and his wife--- were warm, gentle, and fun. They were living a life-long dream: retire to Florida, buy a boat, fish in the gulf. This day, now a regular weekend experience for them, was their definition of perfect.

So, I swallowed my nervousness and incipient claustrophobia, tamped them down deep inside, and, catching some of their joy, plastered a genuine smile on my face.

Still.

The day moved along. Probably quickly for them; definitely slowly for me. We fished. We caught some. I was not surprised to discover, despite the lively movement of the boat, that I was not seasick. After all, I grew up on the water. Just not this water. And always, not stopping for a minute, was the question pinging around in my head, When will this be over?

The storm rose up early in the afternoon.

The grocer had gone below for a short, post-picnic nap. The grocer's wife and I pulled in the fishing lines ---Did I mention that neither she nor I knew how to operate the boat?--- Never taking my eyes off the mounting waves, I asked, with as much insouciance as I could muster, if we should wake her husband. She thought not; he had earned his rest. For her part, she seemed completely unaffected by the increased rocking of the boat, the tiny little whitecaps forming on the peaks of the choppy waves, and the darkening clouds rolling in from . . . Well, I had no idea which direction.

We sat. She chatted. I watched. The wind had become quite brisk before I heard the welcome sound of the hatch opening. The grocer emerged looking well rested. He looked up (the sky was growing darker). He looked out (the waves were growing higher). His eyes fell on the stored fishing gear. Then, as calm as you please, he said, "We should probably head back in." He was not concerned. He knew what to do.

I recall thinking, He's got this.

And that's when I finally relaxed. Oh, our return trip was bouncy, and windy, but I enjoyed it. Partly, because I knew we were headed ashore, but, mostly, because I was confident in his confidence. He was the master of the boat. He understood the relationship of the craft to the water. He knew how to take that vessel through the weather and on into the safety of the port.

Sometimes our lives take on similar dimensions. We find ourselves in a place where the "mighty waters" of life threaten; we're tossed about by the wind and the waves. But, no matter how far out we are, no matter how deep, we can take comfort. This week's Lectionary selection from Psalms 93 says: “The ocean depths raise their voice, O Lord; they raise their voice and roar. The Lord rules supreme in heaven, greater than the roar of the ocean, more powerful than the waves of the sea.” (Psalm‬ ‭93:3-4‬ ‭GNT‬‬)

The Lord is not disturbed by the high winds, the mounting waves, the darkening clouds. No matter the storms that arise on our journey through this life, we can have confidence in His confidence.

He's got this.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Reign of Christ - Proper 29 (34) (November 22, 2015)
First reading and Psalm
2 Samuel 23:1-7
Psalm 132:1-12, (13-18)
Alternate First reading and Psalm
Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14
Psalm 93
Second reading
Revelation 1:4b-8
Gospel
John 18:33-37
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Will you be in Waco Friday morning? Join us for Lectionary Breakfast at the "Egg and I" restaurant from 8:00 to 9:00 for an hour like no other. The scriptures are fascinating, the food is tasty, and our fellow travelers are just the best. ☺️

Enjoy the week!
Steve

The Sting (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Robert Redford plays Johnny Hooker and Paul Newman plays Henry Gondorf in the film, The Sting. In brief, for those you have yet to see it: the movie is about two con men who swindle an evil mob boss out of half a million dollars during the Great Depression (1930's). They mount the con as revenge for the mob boss murdering their friend. It was nominated for ten Academy Awards and won seven. Redford and Newman were, of course, handsome, debonair, and wholly likable.

Almost everyone has seen it and enjoyed how the complex plot results in the comeuppance of the evil man. Ocean's Eleven (12, 13, etc.) have a similar plot skeleton, as has several stories and movies. We like these stories because we like seeing bad or greedy people get what we believe is due them ---the pain of losing something dear to them (in this case, money)--- and done so in an entertaining way.

What's not to like?

Well, maybe a lot.

In reality, there really was a Gondorf (Fred). He and his brother (Charley) really did work this scam. But they did it for money, not for justice. The actual "sting" was pulled on an Englishman in 1914 who was cheated out of real money: $10,000 (a very large sum in 1914). The Englishmen took his complaint to the real police and Gondorf went to a real prison. The money, of course, was long gone.

In reality, ordinary people are scammed out of their hard earned money every day. They almost never get it back; even if the perpetrators are caught; even if the con artists go to jail. Worse than that (hard to imagine something worse, isn't it?), widows and widowers, the poor, and the homeless are common targets, as well.

Wait. What?!

How can those who are "in need" be targets of scams?

Contrary to the movies, most con artists are heartless criminals with no concern for anyone but themselves. Most will stoop to anything, including murder, to get what they want. And that brings us to this week's Lectionary selection from Mark. Jesus identifies an even lower level of con artist scum.

I'll grant you, there were likely some good "scribes" living and plying their trade in those days, but my money is on Jesus being correct in his charging the greater majority of them with something worse than criminal behavior: using their understanding of God's Law to swindle widows and their families out of the little they had. I know, it's really difficult to believe someone could stoop so low.

Remember, Judas loudly decried the "waste" of the expensive perfume used to anoint Jesus' feet because it could have been sold and the money distributed to the poor. Scripture tells us he didn't mean it, that he just wanted the money placed in the ministry purse so he could embezzle it. That's a man personally selected by Jesus to be one of the original 12.

Yes, sad as it is to contemplate, there are people among us who will swindle us out of our money; using God, Jesus, the Bible ---whatever works--- to move our property from our control the theirs. And they absolutely do not care if their "marks" are already impoverished or hurting from the loss of a loved one. All they care about is whether they can successfully scam the mark.

It's bad enough that these kinds of people walk our streets. It is far worse that they walk the aisles of our churches. They don't just "sting" their marks: they destroy them, wound their faith, and drive them away from God. We have to be alert to these wolves in sheep's clothing. Still. And we need wisdom to discern the wolves from the real sheep. For most of those who have fallen prey to these wolves, there is only one consolation:

Jesus promised “These men will be punished most severely.” (Mark‬ ‭12:40‬ ‭NIV‬)

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 27 (32) (November 8, 2015)
First reading and Psalm
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Psalm 127
Alternate First reading and Psalm
1 Kings 17:8-16
Psalm 146
Second reading
Hebrews 9:24-28
Gospel
Mark 12:38-44

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Breakfast, scripture, fellowship, and fun. How do you beat that combination? Join is Friday mornings for Lectionary Breakfast at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant. We meet at 8:00 for about an hour.

I wouldn't steer you wrong.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

Remembering Mrs. Rudolph (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

What was I doing in a remedial English class?

The full answers are complicated and must be saved for another time. The short version: my prior year English teacher had recommended it. Granted, it was a first-world problem (like all of my problems), but as a freshly minted high schooler, I was in shock.

Just to be clear, this was not a language class like Spanish or French. This was the U.S. schools version of English (i.e., grammar): a class about reading literature, identifying themes, writing papers, crafting declarative sentences, etc.

I had always loved reading, and in recent times had begun to enjoy writing, as well. With each passing year, school had become more interesting to me. I was excited about the new adventures I supposed were coming my way at the high school.

But, no. At least not in English.

It was a very difficult year for me. Despite realizing pretty quickly that I was improperly slotted, my English teacher was unable to correct the situation, though she tried. I stayed the entire school year. I lost hope. Things got so bad, I actually considered dropping out of school (which was allowed at age 16). I came to think of that year as my "low year."

And then, just when I had decided that school, at least school like that, was not for me, Mrs. Rudolph rescued me.

In the church calendar, November 1st is All Saints Day, the time set aside to remember those who have gone before; fathers and mothers of the church, martyrs, our own loved ones, and, not incidentally, those significant others who helped shape our lives. And so I pause to remember Rosemary Rudolph, teacher extraordinaire.

I had known her since my early childhood; she and her husband lived directly across 21st Street from us. So, perhaps when she heard about my unusual predicament through the English teacher grapevine, she recognized my name. I'm not sure how she came to be involved. I just know that at the critical moment, I was directed to go to a certain room and there was Mrs. Rudolph offering a possible way out.

The room, a precursor to today's reading labs, was intended for people who had problems reading. But Mrs. Rudolph explained to me that we (oh, how I cherished that word!) would be using it to measure and document my reading ability. She told me it would cost me a study hall twice a week, but promised me that if I could perform well there, I could have a chance to move into an English class more suited to my abilities. I don't know if she knew just how at-risk I was. Maybe. Or maybe she just wanted to collect some assessments more objective than the opinions of one individual.

There are many fine teachers toiling away in our public schools; low pay, little spare time, working far more hours than most of us. And I am privileged to know a few of them. These folks deserve our thanks and more. There are many stories about sacrifices teachers have made for their students.

Mrs. Rudolph was NOT my teacher; on her own, she came up with a scheme to use the reading lab assessment tools to prove I was a good reader and writer, and she arranged with who-knows-how-many in the faculty and administration for me to spend two study halls each week working there. That seems above and beyond to me. It was remarkable that anyone, especially a teacher who did not have me in class, was taking time away from what I know was a packed workday to try to fix the problem!

I did my part: I delivered good work in my English class, gave the reading lab my all, and made good grades in my other classes. And Mrs. Rudolph did hers. When the next school year rolled around, I found I was assigned to an English class more commensurate with my skills and abilities:

Mrs. Rudolph's.

We read a lot in Mrs. Rudolph's class, and we wrote a lot. Yes, I found it challenging, especially following an entire year where the greatest challenges were not academic, but rather boredom and depression. Oh, don't think I considered my "low year" a wasted year. What one may have meant for ill, God meant for good. I learned several lessons that "low" year in English, just not a lot on the topic. From my classmates, I learned that a person's value is not related to their academic performance; that some people just need a little help to move past the thing that's holding them back; and, perhaps most importantly, I learned that friendships need not always be with people who are like us. Different is good.

Mrs. Rudolph has passed from this world. But she is well remembered, and not just by me. In her obituary, I read that the Board of Education conferred on her the coveted "Most Inspiring Teacher" Award a few years ago. Mrs. Rudolph loved the Lord, and that relationship was the energy that moved her through this world and the compass that guided her actions. She embodied, and not just for me, the commandment to "love your neighbor as yourself."

A saint, indeed.
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I am including both the regular Lectionary readings and this for All Saints Day; readers choice.

http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 26 (31) (November 1, 2015)
First reading and Psalm
Ruth 1:1-18
Psalm 146
Alternate First reading and Psalm
Deuteronomy 6:1-9
Psalm 119:1-8
Second reading
Hebrews 9:11-14
Gospel
Mark 12:28-34

All Saints Day (November 1, 2015)
First reading and Psalm
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Second reading
Revelation 21:1-6a
Gospel
John 11:32-44

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We're having a great time Friday mornings at Lectionary Breakfast. Join us and spend some time with saints-still-becoming. We read, discuss, nosh, and laugh (not necessarily in that order). We meet at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant for about an hour.

You would love it 😇

Enjoy the week!
Steve

Radiant (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Winters in our little river city could be harsh. When the cold temps combined with the wind off the river, the result was bone-chilling. And one place we could almost always count on to experience that cold was in Mrs. Maguire's Algebra class. Oh, there was nothing wrong with the radiators in her classroom. They performed their steamy duty as well as any. No, the problem was the windows.

If Mrs. Maguire thought anyone's attention was drifting, or their participation was subpar, she opened those windows.

Plus, to underscore how serious she was about the need to be engaged in her class, she would relocate people to sit by the open windows. Now, I'll grant you the radiators were directly below the windows. So, no matter how cold it was on that side of the room, no one was in any real danger. Those radiators kept radiating.

Still, as you can imagine, most of us were especially vigilant in her class that winter. Sitting next to the radiators could be warm, but that could change in an instant if she opened the windows to let those winter winds slice into the room.

Those radiators, whether warming us or serving the will of Mrs. Maguire, could have been called a different term: radiants. For the most part, we use "radiant" as an adjective. It has synonyms like illuminated, brilliant, gleaming, glowing, ablaze, luminous, luminescent, lustrous, incandescent, dazzling, shimmering, resplendent. We say things like "she looked radiant that evening" or "the radiant energy filled the room."

But it also works as a noun.

A person or thing can BE a radiant; the conduit for all that energy outflow.

I have to wonder if that is what the Psalmist means when he writes in this week's Lectionary, "Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.” (Psalm‬ ‭34:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬) It certainly was true of Moses. He spent so much time in God's presence that he glowed from the exposure. He became a radiant.

Those radiants kept us warm that winter in Mrs. Maguire's classroom, but only because they were connected to the source, the generator of all that steam heat. Disconnected, they would have been just so much cold metal. What about us? Are we radiants? Do we spend so much time in the presence of the Lord that others cannot help but experience God's warmth and glow?

Be a radiant.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Proper 25 (30) (October 25, 2015)
First reading and Psalm
Job 42:1-6, 10-17
Psalm 34:1-8, (19-22)
Alternate First reading and Psalm
Jeremiah 31:7-9
Psalm 126
Second reading
Hebrews 7:23-28
Gospel
Mark 10:46-52
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Fall is such a busy time. I hope you can make time to come to Lectionary Breakfast on Friday morning. We gather at 8:00 for an hour of fellowship, scripture reading, discussion; plus a few laughs along the way. Join us at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant for a sure fire way to ensure you have a great week.

Enjoy!
Steve