The parson settled down in his favorite chair to write a daily blog. He sat, with computer in his lap, waiting for the ideas to come, trying to recall some recent experience that could evolve into a parson's story.
His mind wandered back over the day. It had been a strange day. The parson's day was fairly well defined by the strange congregation at which the parson is pastor. There had no pastoral expectations today. There had been to phone calls from church members. The word had gotten around the parish the parson was going to spend the day with his sons. His congregation let him do that to the fullest.
The older son and the parson's daughter-in-love had been using the parson's car the two weeks they came home for the holidays. Older son drove up to the parson's house, picked him up, and they headed south for a suburb of the really big city. There in the historic district of an old railroad station town they joined company with younger son and slipped into a booth of a tavern. It was a day of shepherd's pie and Irish stew, and some ungodly concoction older son ordered, along with some most fine beverage. The University of Georgia / Michigan State game played on the television. But they didn't watch.
The parson didn't talk that much, except for the phone call. He listened to his sons talking. He marveled at their maturity, the depth of their intelligence, and their accomplishments already so prevalent in their young lives. One was an international dance star; one was setting new standards in education through innovative teaching that utilized 21st century technology.
The phone call which interrupted the male gathering was from the oldest child, the daughter. She and the parson talked about a new brochure for her ministry. She is an author and an accomplished motivational speaker.
Late in the afternoon the time to depart came. Younger son drove older son to meet up with his wife and kids to be taken to the airport for their departure back to their home in the picturesque village in Connecticut. The parson headed back through the really big city northward to his little village and his little parish where Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion waited.
The parson shut the computer down. He pulled out his Kindle Fire, stuck the earphones in his ears and listened to Brandi Carilie sing of “Dreams.” As Brandi, the parson had dreams. But sometimes children exceed a parent's dreams.
When Brandi sang the last note of “Dreams” the parson retired from the day a truly blessed man.