I used to make my living as a professional guitarist, and there is a universally shared experience among guitarists who have played in bands. At some point in your performance, someone is going to shout out, “Freebird! Freebird!” For those who don’t know, Freebird is a song by the southern-rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd, and it features several iconic guitar solos. I have heard that request often and most of my 6-string colleagues have as well. For the many times we’ve been asked to play the song, you’d think that we would take the time to learn it. I never have, and neither have any of my guitar playing friends. Perhaps, deep down, we fear that, were we to play it, we would be disrupting a long-established order of things.

“It’s your favorite day today!” my wife said cheerily to me first thing this morning. “It is!” I responded with equal cheer, “the best day of the week!” What day might that be, some of you are perhaps wondering. Well, it’s trash day!

This Resurrection Sunday – my preferred term for Easter Sunday – I will baptize a man in our congregation. This will be the third year in a row that I have had that privilege. He and I will wade out into Santa Rosa Sound until we come to water deep enough to dunk him. Pray for the tide to be high and the weather warm! When you consider the theology behind baptism, baptizing on the day that we celebrate Christ’s resurrection from the grave is a beautiful thing.

I learned yesterday that a good friend has died. June had not been well for the last several years, nonetheless, her death came as a surprise and has evoked bittersweet emotions.

I was hired for my first ministry position by a pastor with 40 years of experience. “You don’t serve people,” he sagely said to me, “you serve God, and people are served in the process.” He advised against living in a parsonage and instead purchasing a home to build equity. “You will never get rich in ministry,” he counseled, “but God will provide for your needs.” Now, nearing his years of experience, I can attest to the wisdom of his counsel. Nonetheless, there was a financial situation in that ministry that had me scratching my head in amusement.

If you have ever watched the myriad TV shows about antiques, you know that haylofts in unused barns can yield some surprising treasures. Someone in the past places a valuable, unused item in a place that is secure from the elements and out of the way, then forgets it is there. My father-in-law in Indiana had just such a barn.

About 35 years ago, my wife and I purchased a house next to an older, Lebanese couple. One afternoon, after lunch, I was about to head back to the church, when I saw my neighbor. I waved to him. He gently called to me, “Mike, please, come for coffee.” I hesitated, did a quick mental assessment of my busy afternoon schedule, sighed, then answered, “Sure. Thank you.”

After four years of loyal service, my laptop keyboard seems to be failing. Certain, high-volume letters now require more persuasion. Often, I must double back to coax their participation. One frequently used letter that now requires extra attention is the letter ‘G.’ Based on a video about regional accents produced by a linguistics expert, it seems that my laptop has embraced life here in the south and has developed a drawl. The first pass at typing this column yielded words like “failin’” and “typin’,’’ and in certain contexts I could get away with leaving them as is. It is a different matter with the reluctant keys for “A” and “T.” They have decided to renegotiate their contract since without their participation, many words are not words at all.

I was raised in a devout Roman Catholic family and have fond memories of the tactile “smells and bells” of the mass, the priest lifting the censer, rocking it back and forth, the pungent scent of incense, the jangle of bells. But there was one tactile experience I dreaded every year – the application of ashes on Ash Wednesday.

It was the end of a workday and, as is our custom, my wife and I were “debriefing” one another. I initiated, “How was your day?” My wife’s workdays of late have been exceedingly busy but today was less so. “It was okay,” she answered, “I only had about 40 phone calls.” Yes, that is a less busy day for her. She reciprocated, “And how was your day?” As I answered, I began to do something that I have done for my entire life. Leaning on my right elbow, my head cradled in my right hand, the fingers of my right hand were tugging on the flesh under my right eye. Yeah, it’s weird, but I do it unconsciously.