No, Sacred Heart is not a hospital. No worries, I have not fallen down any stairs recently. That was last year's joy and privilege. Sacred Heart does sound like the name of a hospital. And I'm pretty sure I've seen/heard of hospitals with Sacred Heart in the name. No, not a hospital I've been visiting.
The Sacred Heart I've been visiting is a tattoo parlor. And yes, in my seminary career, I've been there twice.
It all started on Saturday afternoon. I was plugging away at my reading for class, waiting for the commentator on 1 Corinthians to come up with a great explanation for the perceived woman-bashing in Chapter 11. My phone rang. And I eagerly dropped my book, shed my reading glasses, and found myself lounging on a blanket outside in the shade with a best friend and her dog. It was such a pleasant day for the beginning of March and a lovely break from the books to talk and laugh and feel the cool breeze. As we reluctantly began to leave, my dear friend says..."Wanna go see if Anna will watch Teddy so we can go to Sacred Heart Tattoo?" Right. You would probably think I said no. But she's my friend, she's gone some odd and difficult places with me, and we won't always live close enough to have these spontaneous adventures...
So off we went. Anna did not watch Teddy, but Teddy miraculously did not eat the car while he waited. And my second visit to the tattoo parlor was as pleasant as the first (a whole different story). Whatever comes into your head when you think 'tattoo parlor,' I'd guess is not very accurate. Surely there are sketchy places to get a tattoo like you see in the movies, but Sacred Heart is a quaint little shop with very friendly, pleasant, 'normal' staff. My friend chose her tattoo, we had a nice chat with the artist while he worked, I held her purse and sat on a stool nearby, she paid her money, and there you have it. All in a day's work.
No one can say I'm living a dull life! I do my best to keep taking things as they come, tucking future sermon illustrations in my pocket along the way.
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