The Bread and Puppet crew is scrambling all over the sanctuary like ants transforming the place into their set for their 50th anniversary production, Shatterer of Worlds. On Saturday, the day they loaded in, Gary Greengrass said that the constant stream of people off their keseyesque bus from Vermont was like one of those circus acts with a never ending procession of clowns coming out of a Volkswagen. The place is humming.
But all of today’s energy is going into tonight’s Presbytery Trustees meeting. Everything is riding in whether they will allow us back on the docket or not. Checking last minute details. Debating strategies about what to release and what not to. Phone calls. Preparing friends for anticipated arguments or questions. Up until the last minute. The worst of it is, we won’t be present.
Go up to RL’s studio as a momentary safe space. As I walk out, he says, everything will be OK, son. And I want to believe that.
I try to let go and let God. Right. I realize how you’re supposed to claim the victory and all that and yes it helps, but, when things don’t work, you wind up blaming yourself. Like magical thinking. If only I had...
As it approaches six o’clock, I go into the sanctuary and contemplate the Tiffany Jesus window, the child in arms. And I sit at my desk, pull out my Angelo’s angelito and my Liberty dime, a prized gift from Colonel Dale Zelko who always carried one when he flew. Especially the day he was shot down over Serbia.
Waiting is excruciating. How many times this has happened. Our fate hanging in others’ hands. Looking back, I recall that every time I thought we’ve finally had our solution, things have fallen apart. And every time we’ve hung in the balance, we’ve made it through. And so I wait.
Finally after three hours, the new exec Bob calls. Our project has been reaffirmed. We will be going back to docket on November 19th. Bob handles the call in his typical objective and pastoral way. It’s now up to us to do the necessary organizing work before then. LaterI'll get a down and dirty report from a friend. But I breathe a sigh of relief. Almost cry.
Time for a late dinner at the Gate. I can eat now. Sleep now.