Does a baptist pee In the woods?

People ask me if I miss being a minister. And my answer is that I miss the preaching part of the job, but definitely do not miss deacon board meetings and that sort of thing.

So I preach when I can, when a congregation's pastor is on vacation and they need a fill-in.
This past Sunday, I preached at a one-room chapel in Spray Beach on Long Beach Island. It's a summer-only chapel and the preachers are all fill-ins. I like to preach so much that I drove 75 miles to this place on a Sunday morning. Service starts at 9:30 a.m. I got there about 9:10, picked a few hymns and turned to a guy more or less in charge.

"So, where's the men's room?'' I asked.
"Oh, we don't have one,'' he said.
"Then let's assume this is going to be a very brief worship service,'' I replied.
"I only live three blocks away from here,'' the man said. "I could drive you there and back.''
We really didn't have time for that.

"I'll get through,'' I said. "But I want to tell you that if I'm in the middle of the sermon and it suddenly looks as if I'm gyrating under the mighty power of the Holy Spirit, just chalk it up to a full bladder.''

I did manage to muddle through without a puddle, so to speak, once again showing forth that God sometimes rewards those who, as my parents always put it, ''should have gone before we left home.''