Danny settled on the flattest slab of stone he could find and his surroundings stilled in reverence of the moment. Instead of bowing his head, he held it high. 

No. Not Danny.

Daniel.

The name rolled off his tongue in a whisper. It would get easier.

He didn’t doubt it, but he wondered how it would feel. Would the uncertainty morph into confidence at a snail’s pace? He didn’t want to complete his transformation unnoticed, but blaring trumpets were rare. 

Only tragedies loved fanfare.

Daniel was determined.  This would be good. It might be bumpy for a while, but faith was a requirement.

With a deep breath, he stood and headed for the wooden bridge.  Its boards moaned a greeting and wished him luck.

He touched white linen at his throat, sending a prayer through the material to strengthen his voice and the words to be carried. There would be time to calm his nerves before the congregation files in.

The vestibule smelled of candle wax, frankincense, and lemon.  The nave echoed his shuffling. 

No.  That wouldn’t do.

He lifted his feet in a proper walk.  The clicking twitched a smile and the swish of the cassock brought it full.

At the tabernacle, he genuflected and paused on one knee to give thanks for his new station.

Daniel, not Danny, was ready.