Some months ago, a house across the street on Bullard caught fire and burned during our 10:15 service. It was surreal to see fire trucks going by with their lights and sirens going during the sermon and hear the sirens go silent almost immediately after seeing them.

Of course, I went over immediately after the service to comfort the family, offer support and pray with them. Rob Quam from the Lake Wales Care Center was there, too, and he asked the firefighter in command how often they deal with house fires. “Not much,” he said, “I cannot remember the last one but it has been several years. Most of our calls are traffic accidents and medical emergencies.”

And they get called a lot. There are accidents almost daily, and all too often there are serious injuries and deaths involved. I don’t know about you, but when I read about such an accident, I automatically pick up on things I might have done differently. Were they wearing their seat belts? Were they drinking or speeding or texting?

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After the baptism of Raeleigh James a couple of weeks ago, Fr. Tom remarked to me, “Don’t you just love baptisms?” I heartily agreed. Baptisms are among my favorite blessings of being a priest. I love it whether it involves babies, children, adolescents or adults. The oldest person I ever baptized was a guy well into his eighties. It was beautiful, although he was very nervous when I picked him up.

And I love babies. Ever since I was a kid myself, I’ve always delighted in them. That goes from the three little sisters I had growing up through to our latest grandchild, Mabel, but also your babies, starting with Cannon Van Hook and rolling forward. We have a number of them coming this year inside the church and some of you have grandchildren coming elsewhere.

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Years ago I would walk our dog around the block almost every evening. On the other side of our block was a house where they had three Pomeranians. If you don’t know what a Pomeranian is, imagine a 5-to-7-pound dust mop that barks nonstop.

That house had a chain link fence in its back yard. As we’d come into view, those Pomeranians would start barking. That’s understating it. They would come unglued, eyes bulging, all three of them barking as though the very existence of the planet depended on them.

As we’d cross in front of the house, they’d run around to the other side so they could continue their serenade and bark like that well after we’d gone far enough that the next house blocked us from view.

One day I decided to play a trick on them. As we came into view they began their madness. We passed in front of their house and sure enough they ran around to continue the madness. Then I turned and took a few steps back the other way. They immediately ran back to the other side, I turned again and jogged a few steps until the next house blocked us from view.

From then on, I did that every time. And they’d fall for that temptation every time. Isn’t that how temptation works?

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