Disclosure to Dad

Today my dad and I discussed my upcoming Internship, lo! Dad: I hear you are going to be working with the church Me: Yes I am Dad: Are they going to unleash you on the pulpit... preaching and all? I smile:) The only thing I’ll be doing anywhere near the altar is handing water to the Day’s Speaker to cool his throat. Dad: I hope they don’t brain-wash you Images of soft-spoken, turban-wearing women in heavy ankle-length linen dresses, with law-abiding children in tow come fleeting across my mind. This subsistence living in communes involves women making their own cheese, yoghurt, soap and, yes, they grind their own flour and grow their own vegetables. Everything in the commune is frugal, home-grown and hand-made! I smile:) I hear my dad’s heart. Dear Father, Fill my brains with your thoughts and wash me in your love and favour. That’s the brand of brain-washing I need to soak in. Awash in your love, me!