Mondays, for ministers, are like surprise birthday parties. You never know if you'll get swamped by a wave of black balloons and needling reminders of how close you are to death, or if you'll surf the sounds of celebration, exhilarated by heartfelt well-done's.

On a particularly frigid mid-December Monday, I ventured into the fellowship hall to check for a misplaced box of Bible study literature. My eyes were arrested by a can't-miss-it note attached by a wad of masking tape to the pulpit in the corner. Scrawled on yellow legal paper in characteristically Doug-esque fashion, the memo said, "What the h— is THIS doing here?!!!"

Hmm, I thought. A black-balloon Monday.

I reluctantly admit now, years after moving the pulpit, that there are better ways to effect change in church. Maybe if I had greased a few squeaky wheels first. Maybe if I had mentioned to some key influencers my plan to make room for the children's puppet ministry, just maybe, if I had asked for their advice, someone might have ...