It’s hard to believe that we could spend a busy theological-conference weekend without wrapping it up with a visit from Jenna, but I guess that’s one way San Antonio differs from Atlanta. This year, of course, Jeneane wouldn’t have needed to step outside for a breath of, ahem, cigarette smoke. We did think of Jenna when we went up and down in the elevator, though.
We also thought of her, and of Jeneane and George, when we heard that Diva had died. Nothing affects us in quite the same way as an animal friend’s death; I remember that one of the first crises my new neighborhood talked through online was the death of Tom Shugart’s cat. We’ll remember Diva here (though we never met her), and we’ll be thinking of the Sessums. Take care, and bless you, and Diva.