I had a wide grin plastered across my face for two days last week as I attended the 25th anniversary of a great church from which I moved, but which has never left me. It was amazing to feel eight years melt away as I walked through the double doors and beheld my dear friends and picked up right where we had left off. We had two potlucks (natch!), ate Hanna’s heavenly pasty (The Girlie polished off her own piece!), beheld a bunch of people who haven’t aged and whose relationships seem as strong as ever, and sang some good old songs (they’ve got a slick video projector now, but I didn’t need any help with the lyrics). But the best feature of all was a beautiful burning of the mortgage, which put tears in my eyes, hope in my heart, and filled my nostrils with the smoky smell of a church set free from its moorings. May God bless them, as they bless their community.