Because I'll never die.
No, wait, that's not how it goes. But my wings have been revoked (schveet). I traded angel-hood for leading the youth group last night. Wasn't so much a trade as I was apparently already off the hook (I would've been an off-the-hook angel, but that's another story), but I hung out with the youths anyway. Never ask youths to be creative. When asked to come up with a name for an imaginary sibling for the Name Game, one said Zephaniah Habbakuk, the other, Zechariah Habbakuk. (And only because I put a 7-syllable limit. These little Bible smaht weasels.) Now all's left of Christmas duty is a translation gig tomorrow morning that requires standing on the stage throughout the whole service, looking pretty. And probably translating.
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