"The Church of the Big Breakfast." When I was married, Grace's father and I attended a church where that's what a spunky young woman in our Sunday School class referred to as her family of origin's denominational lineage as--"The Church of the Great Big Breakfast."
Yesterday morning, Grace and I attended "The Church of the Great Outdoors." And, I can't think of a better way, for me, to get a spiritual lift, a connection with the Great Creator, a fine tuning of my physical-emotional-spiritual relationship with nature, than our time spent in "The Church of the Great Outdoors."
Our day of worship started with a visit to "The Church of the Great Big Breakfast." It was The Fiance's idea to say Grace over a biscuit-, jam- and ham-ladened table here:
Oh, the man who broke my seven-year record of maintaining my 30-pound Weight Watcher's loss and the subsequent 10-15 pounds I've sported thanks to following his taste buds around the country, the world and into his gourmet kitchen.
I knew I was in trouble on our fall break launch when The Fiance's thrill-seeking taste buds led us to Full Moon Bar-B-Que in Birmingham and then proceeded to sample sumptuous fair in Florida's sunny Gulf Coast:
The Fiance. First bite. The Divine Oyster Po'boy at Stinky's Fish Camp
As our lengthy fall break wrapped up yesterday, I was struck by the contrast of going from this:
to this:
...on the last day of fall break. Our visit to the Church of the Great Outdoors, which also included a hike in one of Nashville's Great Big urban parks and, at the end of the day, a walk amid skyscrapers downtown for a birthday dinner on Second Avenue by the Nashville's Riverfront , to celebrate one of our newly independent young adult friends living with autism.
For Fall Break. For Church of the Great Outdoors. For Friends. For Family. For the Precious Gift of Life...Thank you. I am Grateful. A-men.
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