This week I celebrated my second anniversary as pastor of the church here in the middle USA. I expected the day to go by in its usual uneventful way. Then yesterday, I received a package in the mail. It was addressed to the entire family, but was sent anonymously--addressed to us at the church address with the church address as the return address. No card, no explanation, just a book of poetry inside (by Jeff Foxworthy no less). Taped to the front end papers of the book were a gift card to buy gas and enough tickets to pay for entrance, parking, and snacks at St. Louis' version of Six Flags.

Thanks -- whoever you are!

For the uninitiated, that is what you call an "eight possum Thursday"