The parson sat in the Cardiac Waiting room with her. She was a member of the church and her husband a lay pastor of some renown in the area. With the parson was a former pastor of the church, two dear friends and two other family members. The parson and one of the friends were sharing their experiences of recovering from open heart surgery. They both laughed as they described their feeble efforts to get out of a chair once the muscles of their chest had been severed. The friend put the waiting wife into hysterical laughter as he demonstrated rolling out of the chair to the side rather than try to sit up.
When everyone had settled down, following the laughter’s tension release, all eyes turned toward the television where the World Series was tied at one to one. Between batters the parson turned to look at a frail looking man with a walking cane sitting in a corner by himself. He had thick eye glasses, a well-worn baseball cap on which a logo was not unreadable from wear. His dress slacks were pressed to a point the crease seemed razor sharp. Above them was a cowboy shirt buttoned to the throat.
The parson slid his chair toward the man. “Are you waiting for someone to come out of surgery?”
“No, sir,” he said, sitting up straight. His pleasure at being noticed was obvious. “My wife is in ICU. She’s not having surgery, at least, not yet. She was brought up her by helicopter from our home in Alabama. It was kind of scary.”
The parson watched his body language. He invited inquiry. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, you see, we live in this double wide trailer; now, I mean, it is a trailer, but it’s really a nice one. You see, we both before we married twelve years ago were kinda down on our luck and we, .... well, ....”
He leaned forward and continued in a softer voice, “You’re that lady’s pastor; aren’t you?”
The parson acknowledged that he was.
“Well, I can tell you since you’re a pastor cause I know you’ll keep it in confidence. You see, she and me we were pretty heavy in drugs. I mean, we didn’t know each other then, but she was doing drugs with her group and I was doing drugs with my group and we didn’t know each other, you see. So, anyway, her daughter kinda had it with her about her drugs. You see, she was living with her daughter. And, well, her daughter threw her out. She just said she couldn’t put up with it anymore and plop her mother was on the front walk.”
He held up his hand and turned to retrieve a coffee cup from a side table from which he took a long sip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“So, that’s what happened to her. And me, well, I got in a wreck one night when I was kinda stoned. Well, it wasn’t kinda; I was on another freaking planet. Pardon my language, pastor. Anyway I don’t know how it happened but I seemed to have parked my car up against an oak tree about twenty feet off the road.” He leaned forward to once again embrace the parson’s confidence. “I don’t have the foggiest idea how I got twenty feet off the road; but there was no way out of it. The hood was just hugging that tree. So the next thing I know there are these blue lights flashing everywhere. And pretty soon I’m in the county slammer.”
The phone in the waiting room rang. The parson turned to see if anyone was responding. When they did not, he held up his hand to his new friend and then went to the phone. He informed the caller the people he was asking for had gone to the cafeteria to get some supper. They thanked him. The parson turned back to the little man from Alabama who needed no cue to continue his discourse.
“The judge was a member of the church I used to go to when I was sober. So, I guess he was open to giving me a break. He told me he would probate my sentence if I would agree to go into treatment. I mean the choice was treatment or jail so I guess you can figure which one I picked. Well the counselor I went to told me I need to go to a meeting. I did. Sharon was there. She made herself go because, you see, her daughter had just shamed her into it when she threw her out on the street. So she went. And I went. And I guess it was about the, well, I guess it was about the tenth meeting when we went to get coffee afterwards, and you know what? We have been together ever since.
“So, she’s been having this horrible problem with blood pressure. Well, she had some other problems too, but the blood pressure was the worst of it. So she’s been having these fainting spells. I don’t know if she had them before we met in treatment or not, I mean, we’ve only been married ten years; but the thing is we’ve been sober all ten of those years so they have really been special. We both got jobs and we were doing really well I guess. We didn’t make a lot of money; you know, people are a little hesitant about hiring former drug addicts so we had to start at the bottom. But we hung in there and we were able to get the down payment on the double wide. You know, pastor, we’ve fixed that thing up so good you wouldn’t know it was a trailer except that I just told you. We got roses growing all over the place, and I built this kinda of lattice woodwork around the bottom and painted it a smokey blue so it would, it would, what do you call it? it would, oh yeah, it would accent the trailer color. It’s real nice.
“Well, Sharon was back in the back of the trailer in the bedroom this morning. Actually, I guess she could have been in the bathroom, but, anyway, I heard this God awful noise like someone had slammed something against the hood of the car and I called out to her if she knew what that was. She didn’t answer so I went down the hallway and there she was all laid out in the hallway. I just didn’t know what to do. She was breathing but she wasn’t moving and I don’t think she could hear me so I called 911.
“The next thing I knew they had her at the Emergency Room at our county hospital and then the next thing I know they have her on a helicopter and I’m standing there in the hospital yard watching that thing fly away with my Sharon and I got to tell you I was scared to death. I finally went back in the hospital and got them to explain it to me. One nurse drew me a map and showed me how to get here and so here I am and Sharon is back there in the ICU. She’s got all these tubes hanging out of her and I just don’t know how she’s doing to be. I mean when I went back there while a go there were some bruises on her. I don’t know if she got them when she fell at the trailer or whether she got them back there when she tried to get up with all them tubes hanging out of her.
“Do you know anyone here at this hospital who might be able to help me. I just don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been here all day and my Sharon is back there with all them tubes and, well, you know she’s had a hard life, my Sharon. But she’s done real good since we’ve been married and it’s just not good she’s back there. I don’t understand what’s the matter with her. But I know it ain’t good.”
The parson asked him if he could give him a minute. The parson left the room. By the time he returned the Yankees were ahead three to one. He motioned for the man to come with him. The parson punched a code into the panel; the door swung open. The parson escorted the man into a consultation room where a doctor waited and he returned to the waiting room as the doctor explained what was happening with Sharon.
The parson was in the waiting room only a few minutes when he was invited to accompany the wife back to see the lay pastor returned from surgery. Relief poured out of her in torrents.
Returning to the waiting room the Yankees had won the game. The parson’s new friend was back in his seat. After having a prayer with the wife, the parson walked over to the man from Alabama.
“How did things go with the doctor?”
“He explained it good. Sharon has a blood clot or something. In the morning she’s going to have some tests. The doctor told me he would come out here and get me.”
“I’m glad the doctor explained it. He’s a good doctor. He’ll take good care of Sharon.”
“Can I ask you one more thing?” said the man from Alabama.
“Sure,” replied the parson.
“Could you have a prayer with me like you did with that lady?”
“I can,” said the parson.
He did.
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Thank you, Parson. Ministry happens. This morning at 3 am, I awoke remembering that I had not called a woman at the church where I had filled in a couple of Sundays. She had received word of a tumor on her leg. Bad Stuff, and more tests yesterday. I called at 7 this morning. I apologized for the early hour call and the forgotten call, she said yesterday was a total fog. One could hear the fear and terror in her voice, we had prayer. I will be at her church Sunday, she asked if we might have special prayers then. Sure. Peace.
Posted by: CurtisGrissett | October 30, 2009 at 10:24 AM
Thank you QP for caring so much. We need more pastors like you in the world.
Posted by: Beach Walkin | October 31, 2009 at 08:19 AM
timely
Posted by: MMP | June 17, 2010 at 07:35 AM