Transfiguration, Grief, and Writing

I didn’t run this morning — dead legs, so I walked most of the way with occasional short tests of my limbs’ willingness (all tests negative). Hot breakfast and coffee, shower and dress, Morning Prayer, finalise and print sermon, funeral at St Michael’s, then home to read and write more. The journey of one essay, one presentation, and a seemingly endless stream of sermons begins with a single word. Two, ideally; or even more.

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