into the fire

My Brother,

(Hmmmm,

actually it started back when 

he was dating

my beloved Sister-in-law),

has a problem with FIRE.

His first parsonage, on an early Sunday morning . . .

(super heated walls from an over-worked furnace

during one of the coldest Michigan winters on record),

a great smoking pit in the ground

(saved all 7 cats though . . . hooray),

and the reading for the day was:

The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. Isaiah 6:4 etc.

He, of course, being a good leader, 

offered sensory input . . .

with the smell of smoke and singed hair.

His next burnt offering was his car,

(spontaneous combustion),

on the Schuylkill,
on the way to a synod conference . . .

backed up traffic for miles . . .

many people were late for that conference.

And since then,

many personal computers

in his household,

have self immolated.

As he and his wife were bemoaning

the latest computer suicide,

I pointed out his long history with

fire . . .

He quipped:

At least I'm getting cheaper.

 No comment.