Sermon-tossed

Last week, my wife coined a new buzz word that will likely set the clergy blogosphere ablaze. On Saturday afternoon she crafted a new word to describe my deshoveled look. "Sermon-tossed." Despite how it sounds, she was not referring to that wonderful Friday evening frustration that sets in when you feel everything you've been reading, writing, or working on is worthless and ready to be tossed. And, although it may catch fire in female clergy circles, she was not referring to the dazzling, vivacious look of their "spirit"-blown locks after the delivery of a prophetic word from the pulpit. However, she was referring to hair - my hair. Which, by saturday afternoon, has a fluffy bed-head look after hours of contemplative study and typing, during which I run my fingers through my hair and frequently scratch my scalp. The end result - "sermon-tossed" shine and body that you can't buy in a bottle. You'll only find it in carrels of thelogical libraries everywehere or in the Saturday afternoon study of a rural church pastor. Then again, there could be some real merit to an alternative definition to illustrate what should be done with certain manuscripts after a Sunday service. Sermon-tossed. I think there's a lot of promise for this one. Eat your heart out Merriam-Webster.