Last Sunday, we had a special guest at our small country church: One of the bishops of the Episcopal Diocese of Connecticut.
“Oh, that’s right, the Bishop’s visiting today,” I said as the children and I entered the church.
Son wasn’t quite clear what this meant but insisted we sit in the front row. The Bishop processed in all decked out in a grand purple robe and miter (that’s the funky hat with a point at the top and two tails down the back). He was also carrying a tall, wooden shepherd’s staff.