The translation of gospel is "good word."
Sorry, friends. I've got no good word today...
Not because I don't feel good, and good things aren't happening...but because I dont' (again) have deep and inspiring thoughts.
I think that I thought that when I became a hospice chaplain I would have these incredible and mind-altering experiences that would make me feel like big-stud chaplain. Instead, I have these teeny-tiny daily insights that make me feel like, well, wimpy-ovarianish-chaplain (not that ovaries are bad...hell, when you're doing the fertility ritual ovarians are never bad, they're always very, very good and very, very worth praising).
BUT...I guess what I'm saying is that I haven't had these mammoth watershed experiences which often lead to posts...and essays...and deep thoughts....
So, for today, you're getting me. Just me. All five foot two inch, one-hundred-thirty-nine pounds of Christen. A Christen who misses the series "Six Feet Under" and thinks of the series finale as a death. A Christen who doesn't know how to relate to her 12 year old (step) daughter because teen culture sometimes alludes her, but more often, pisses her off. A Christen who wonders whether she will ever feel comfortable expressing herself without hitting the #$@%# delete button so often.
Deep thoughts will come....and you'll see them here...I promise (and God/ess willing).