Several factors came together this past Sunday morning to make it memorable.

1) There is an Indian family that attends our church. On special ocassions (like Christmas morning) they wear traditional Indian dress. Sorry, I'm enough of a rube I don't know the proper name for it.

2) Their son was comlaining about it several weeks ago, he's at the age where he's self-concious about doing anything "different" from everyone else. I told him to quit whining about it, if he promised to stop complaining to his parents, I'd wear my kilt and argyll jacket Christmas Sunday morning. Not insignificant, because I'm the music director and in front of the entire congregation for about half the service. I'm also a deacon and therefore serve communion (along with another deacon) to the congregation while the pastor reads appropriate passages from the Bible (Jesus' words from the Last Supper).

3) there is an elderly woman who has attended here since before i was born, a native English woman from somewhere in the North of England and has expressed an appreciation for all things English and Scottish she encounters here in Ohio (except the language, which she insists that we mangle horribly!).

So I put a smile on a few folks faces as I walked in. Johnathan, that I had lived up to my end of the bargain and Eunice that she got to have a little taste of "home" on Christmas Day.

And mine. I enjoy wearing my kilt and didn't shange into bifurcated garments until after we'd been to church and a famiy gathering afterwards.