Thirty-eight in a room built for twenty-four, and the exams are in five weeks. Pray for the three I am most worried about — they know who they are even though they will never read this.
Our roof has failed in two places and the congregation is forty people, most of them over seventy. We are praying about whether to repair it or to let the building go and meet in homes. I do not know which answer I am hoping for.
One of my kids stopped coming six weeks ago. I have texted twice and do not want to become the man who texts a third time. Pray I know the difference between persistent and intrusive.
I texted a third time and asked about football, exactly as Caleb said. He replied in four minutes. He came on Friday. We have still not talked about the six weeks and I do not think we are going to, and I have decided that is fine.
My neighbour and I have not spoken in two years over something so small I am embarrassed to write it. She had an ambulance on Tuesday. I stood at my window and did nothing.
I knocked. I did not have a speech ready, as instructed. She opened the door and said "oh, it’s you" and then neither of us said anything for a while and then she asked if I wanted tea. Two years, and it cost me a knock.
Signal number 3 here. Our building is fine. The informal settlement two streets over is not. Pray for them and not for us.

I have been in this city two years and I have people to eat lunch with and nobody to call at 11pm. I am not sad exactly. I am just aware of it.
We have kept the Thursday vigil for eleven years. Some weeks there are forty of us and some weeks there are four. I have stopped counting and started just opening the door.
I have been asked to speak at a former pupil’s funeral. She was 34. I taught her to read.
A young family came on Sunday. First under-forties in two years. I have to resist the urge to make them a project.
Going to the Thursday vigil tonight for the first time. I have driven past it for a month.