My life is revolving around play rehearsals and all the other to-doings associated with it. (Feb. 27,28 and March 1 in the Chilkat Center.) I have to make my hair darker, iron my costume. Find socks, and reading glasses. And a tea pot. It was very good last night that our church meets in the theater lobby because I was able to catch the Ash Wednesday observation, and have ashes rubbed on my forehead, and be reminded that from dust I come and to dust I will return– which puts all my fussing about too much to do in perspective, doesn’t it?
Tonight after play practice I may be able to catch some of River Talk in the Chilkat Center lobby– seven people will tell seven stories about love, and the best part is that there’s food. I am telling Chip it can be dinner. And a date.
Speaking of faith, I have been writing George Hales’ obituary this week. He was 89 when he died on Sunday. His service is 2pm tomorrow at the Presbyterian Church. I love the memory of George his neighbor Jim shared– of watching him striding down Lutak Road for a walk with his large Billy goat following him like a dog– and how his daughter Rebecca said he moved his family from Montana to Haines in 1974 “on faith.” He wanted to live here, and found a way, as so many people do. A teacher by training, he got a job on the ferry as a steward, and worked on the ships until he retired in 1990. He also ended every conversation with Micah 6:8 ( sometimes siting chapter and verse; others quoting the scripture: “What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.” )
