I could not have asked for a better Sunday. The weather was crisp, but not too cold. The sky let out no rain. As November managed to set the record for rainiest month in Seattle history, it appears God has determined to give us a brief reprieve from precipitation.

Despite my initial reluctance to crawl from bed this morning, I woke up, prepared for church, devoured a few bites of French bread, and drove there. It happened to be a special Sunday at the church as they installed a new assistant pastor. The sermon was delivered by a Canadian pastor who mentored the man. Apparently he’s originally an American, but I am not familiar enough with Northwestern accents to tell where specifically he was from.

The Canadian pastor preached a fine sermon wherein he disparaged postmodernism’s denial of truth by comparing it to architecture. You can build a postmodern museum with pillars supporting nothing and staircases leading nowhere, but even in this structure the foundation must be solid or the building cannot stand.

Afterwards, lunch was served. I appreciated this as much as any bachelor who tires of his own lack of decent kitchen or cooking skills. It also served as a good opportunity to meet other parishioners.

There was a quite humorous moment that occurred during lunch. A couple tables away from where I was sitting, I could here the head pastor saying something about “he’s from Colorado” and something else I couldn’t make out.

The pastor then asked me a question.

“Would you like to meet my eldest daughter?” I heard a couple people laugh quietly.

“Sure,” I replied quickly.