The holiday season always brought out the best in Lucas Yates. His sermons became more passionate, his voice sang out more joyously, and even his aching feet got a little springier. This Christmas was no different. He'd hosted a midnight mass and only returned home to his wife and daughter for a few hours of sleep, before leaving to prepare his church once more at six in the morning.
He'd be celebrating all day, culminating in a charity-driven "feast" in the evening. His church's doors were open to all today, no matter their religious affiliation, and he'd be overseeing the whole event with a smile on his face.
B:
[network post, video]
Well. It's a pleasure to finally have this curtain drawn back. I've heard a number of fantastical stories from some of my parishioners, and if I didn't find myself here today, I would have continued finding the entire thing very, very hard to believe. But what I found waiting for me in my home shortly before Christmas lent some credibility to the entire thing.
[the bald-headed man with a well-groomed goatee rises from his chair and disappears off camera for a moment. he returns carrying in both hands what seems like a single, chest-high stack of neatly folded black fabric swatches. it's all one contiguous piece, but he's not about to unfold it.]
I know I call myself a man of the cloth, but this is a little ridiculous, wouldn't you say?
Gravelord Nito | Dark Souls
He'd be celebrating all day, culminating in a charity-driven "feast" in the evening. His church's doors were open to all today, no matter their religious affiliation, and he'd be overseeing the whole event with a smile on his face.
Well. It's a pleasure to finally have this curtain drawn back. I've heard a number of fantastical stories from some of my parishioners, and if I didn't find myself here today, I would have continued finding the entire thing very, very hard to believe. But what I found waiting for me in my home shortly before Christmas lent some credibility to the entire thing.
[the bald-headed man with a well-groomed goatee rises from his chair and disappears off camera for a moment. he returns carrying in both hands what seems like a single, chest-high stack of neatly folded black fabric swatches. it's all one contiguous piece, but he's not about to unfold it.]
I know I call myself a man of the cloth, but this is a little ridiculous, wouldn't you say?