Pentecost, the church holiday, is a remembrance of the second great day of Christian remembrance. The first is Easter, when God gave his only Son, God-With-Us, Emmanuel, to die on our, on _my_ behalf, and Death was overthrown.
The third, practically everyone knows about, the feast of the Nativity, Christmas, remembrance of when God took on flesh and blood, set aside the glory and power and infinity and wrapped himself in humanity, with all our frailty and weakness.
Pentecost is the second one. It's the one that bothers or confuses people ... the remembrance and celebration of the day the Holy Spirit came upon the early church and transformed a group of confused, worried, and doubting men and women, in mourning for the Messiah who they had seen die, and then astonishingly, return from death, and then, be taken up to Heaven.
With a mighty rush of wind, and with what appeared like tongues of flame dancing over their heads, they suddenly find themselves filled with an exploding, overwhelming hope and confidence, and they find themselves in the streets of Jerusalem telling all the people the story _In Their Own Languanges_: Christ has died, Christ is risen! Christ will come again.
The mundane: I didn't go to the Pentecost service this year.
Penny was unable to sleep last night, wiped out. I was tired and fighting off a cold, or just a nasty allergy, but whatever it is, it's got me sneezing my head off.