Pastor Selbo

Last Suday, I went to church at the place where I went to elementary school. It was kind of cool, but weird. The first time the pastor spoke, I wasn't paying much attention, but then I heard his voice. His voice was such a constant in my childhood. Every wednesday morning, we had chapel, and he led it almost every time. I had no idea just the sound of his voice had left such an impression on me until I heard it just then. I paid complete attention to his sermon, just marveling at it. (Although he is a good preacher too. Doesn't ramble, his sermons are fairly simple and straight to the point. Which are things our pastor really ought to work on. But anyway.)
I thought about it later, and I think the reason his voice affected me was that, unlike many of the teachers, I hadn't talked to him since around 5th grade. It was oddly similar to the reaction I had when I found my favorite book from when I was little. I hadn't seen it for years and I thought it was lost or had accidently been given away, but there it was, on my little sister's bookshelf. Both of these were such vivid memories from when I was younger, and then they just showed up in my life now.
I want to go back to that church, to hear him speak again.