A few days ago, I received a call from a deacon of a small Baptist church on route one in northern Maine.  As Providence would have it, it was the only weekend of the six we're spending in Maine's northernmost county that we were free, so we agreed to come. 

Then, last night, our daughter, Rose, couldn't sleep.  She wasn't sick, just not sleepy, so she stayed up, and my wife, Sue, kept her company.  When the alarm sounded this morning, it was clear I'd be doing the services alone.  Not ideal; Rose has recently become a monster juggler with a huge stage presence, but I've done plenty of solo gigs in my career.

The church, which I performed in once before maybe 15 years ago, is an ideal setting for juggling: high ceiling, light colored background, good lighting, plenty of stage space.  There was a group of about 20 for the Sunday School hour, including a good mix of adults and young people.  For this service, I did a full hour show.  In truth it was not entirely a solo gig.  Both my doves and our rabbit made appearances.

For the church service, I was given the sermon portion to discuss our summer camp ministry at Baptist Park.  I started with my Parable of the Lost Coin trick, but then pretty much did a traditional report about camp.  I stressed several stories of how God has moved this summer and past years.  It seems that Bridgewater Baptist pulled their support for the camp years ago when there was some controversy (I neither know nor care what it was).  This was a bit of a big step to have the director in to discuss camp.  I trust I represented well, and that this could be the start of rebuilding bridges with Bridgewater.  The people certainly seemed wonderful and wanting to get involved.  Please pray to that end.