Apparently I Missed My Calling

My grandmother's memorial service was last Friday. Two pastors, my grandfather, my aunt, my uncle, and I all spoke during the service. Since I was one of six speakers, I kept my talk quite short. I've never been afraid of public speaking. And I know talking to people feels more more natural than reading at people, so I never wrote down my speech. I simply thought about what I wanted to say, rehearsed it in my head a dozen times, then got up and started yapping.

My grandmother was a very religious person, so I dusted off a few of the bible verses I memorized during Sunday school and tossed them into the eulogy. Do to her ninety years of involvement in the United Methodist Church, there were at least a half a dozen retired pastors in the congregation and one retired bishop.

After the service the bishop's wife approached me. She put her hand on my arm and said, "Darling, that was the best sermon I have ever heard." From a bishop's wife that's high praise. I don't plan on rushing off to seminary anytime soon (or ever), but the bishop's wife wasn't the only person at the reception after the service to make those types of comments.

Apparently, half way through my talk one of my cousins turned to her sister and whispered, "That girl should be a writer." Since, I already am writing, I'm going to assume I'm fulfilling my calling that way. And given the highly secular nature of everything I write, and for the most part think, I'm fairly certain I don't really belong in the clergy.