This morning just before waking, I found myself dreaming of the Vicar of Dibley, the rotund woman vicar in the fictional village of Dibley, England on the BBC sitcom bearing her name. In my dream, the vicar was leading the eucharist in her most beautiful Elizabethan English. Sunlight poured through stained glass windows of the ancient chapel into pools of color on the slate floor. The sounds of sanctus bells rang in the background and gray curls of smoke and fragrance from fine incense filled the air around me. It was simple but simultaneously magnificent.
I awoke to the sound of the wind chime ringing in the breeze over my head, its colored glass producing flashes of colored light dancing across my face. The smell of woods fire from the Iron Horse wildfire burning in nearby Brevard County mixed with the heavy perfume of orange blossoms from trees in my yard, filling the air with its fragrance. The warmth of nine o’clock spring morning sunshine poured through the window I had left open last night to enjoy the cool evening breeze.
My centenarian dachshund, deep under the covers, did not stir by my feet but Daisy, our three year old beagle, did not miss her opportunity to leap to the bed and bathe my face with wet hound dog good morning kisses. As I looked from my bed across the room to the many photos of family of birth and family of choice which adorn the wall over my family altar, I thought to myself what a rich life I have led. And I reflected on what a fortunate – and grateful - man I am.
The Rev. Harry Scott Coverston, J.D., Ph.D.
Member, Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest, Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Instructor: Humanities, Religion, Philosophy of Law
University of Central Florida, Orlando
If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding.
Most things of value do not lend themselves to production in sound bytes. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++