These telephone calls I make to subscribers are getting more fascinating each week. You may recall that a year or so ago I began a practice of calling a subscriber on a weekly basis. I always ask these folks how delivery of TLC is going, how they're enjoying the magazine, and what suggestions they might have to improve it. All sorts of interesting conversations have developed.

The other day I spoke to a woman in the San Francisco Bay area who told me she'd found her church by surfing the web. "I was a lapsed Episcopalian," she said. "I hadn't been to church in at least 10 years. I was exploring some websites for a nearby community and I found the church. It started me thinking about returning, so I checked it out. I've been going there for about two years. I've found a home." Never underestimate the power of a website.

An Arkansas reader said she has begun to share her copy of TLC with members of her parish. "Stop that," I said, only half in jest. "Isn't it time those folks had their own subscription?" She replied that four others read her magazine - two of them a couple on fixed income, one a graduate student "with huge debts" and the other an unemployed priest. "I thought you'd be pleased that I've introduced your magazine to others," she said. Talk about feeling like Scrooge...

A newly retired priest who lives in Florida was incredibly candid. "This is probably the last year I'll be subscribing," he said. "After the General Convention approves same-sex blessings next year, I'm outta here." I asked him where he was going and was surprised by his answer. "I'll join one of the Orthodox churches," he said. "I haven't decided which one yet. My wife and I have been shopping around. I'll join as a lay person and will stay out of church politics." My mild attempts to talk him out of his plan were not appreciated.

I got an earful from a woman in Pennsylvania. "I thought you people were above this," she said firmly. "I didn't think you'd stoop to calling people and asking them to subscribe. Besides, we already get your magazine." When I tried to tell her who I was and why I was calling, she launched into a tirade about solicitors. She said she'd tell the attorney general about me. Caller ID can be a wonderful thing.

A reader in Michigan could have made a wonderful promotional ad for TLC. "I want you to know that reading TLC is one of the highlights of my week," she gushed. "I get more out of your magazine than anything I read." Naturally, I wondered about her reading habits and indeed, her life. As the conversation continued, she wanted to talk about her parish and her rector. "A dear man," she said, "but a weak preacher. I get more out of the little commentaries on the Sunday readings than I do from his sermons."

Then there was a person whose name I recognized. You would too. Formerly active at the national level, still a diocesan honcho. He wanted to give me fatherly advice. "Don't listen to all those people," he said. "You're on the right track with that magazine. Those people who are always criticizing you are full of beans. Stick with what you're doing." I assured him we intended to do that. "Are you OK?" he asked. "Are these people getting to you?" I told him they were not and that I was indeed OK.

In general, people have been friendly, pleased to be asked for their opinions, and satisfied with TLC. You may be next. Don't hang up when I call. I'll promise not to call during your dinner hour if you'll promise not to call the attorney general.

David Kalvelage, executive editor