Just write something

A leader at my congregation asked me to come up with a few words to open this Sunday’s service. “Me?” I said, feeling like looking over my shoulder.

Usually the person or people who do this read a quote from a great thinker or a snippet of poetry. I turned to the Internet for something relating to summer, but very little appealed. I tinkered with one quote that almost worked … but I’d have to lead into it … and then the bit was too long with the quote …. Wait a minute, I thought. I’m a writer. Just write something.

Okay; it’s got first, second, and third person. So what. Here it is – my tribute to August.


Last night a friend and I drove up 270 to see the Frederick Keys play single-A baseball. They ____, _-_, but it didn’t especially matter. The seats are so close to the field that you can see the pitcher chew his lip before winding up. The play isn’t great, so there are lots of foul balls. Kids love that – but if they ever get bored, they can head for that enticing carousel past right field. Harry Grove Stadium is one-tenth the size of Nats Park, which means the mascot usually ambles right past your seat, and you won’t miss a thing when you’re up getting ice cream or fries. The sun sets over the scoreboard, and I love the fireworks after the game. Now, it’s great having the Nationals downtown – but today I light this chalice in appreciation of minor league baseball.

Copyright 2011 Ellen M. Ryan. All rights reserved.

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