Questing Parson

The Plants Have Been Watered

7:30 a.m.

The parson arrived at the church. He headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of cappuccino, and, having completed that task, went to his study to make an attempt at organizing his day. On arriving at the study he realized he'd forgotten to bring the power cord to the laptop. Knowing there was another one in the media room he headed through the sanctuary to retrieve the cord from the room at the rear of the worship area.

Walking back to his study he noted the plants on the stands in the chancel were looking more than a little fatigued. He headed to the kitchen again, filled a pitcher with water and returned to the sanctuary where he watered the plants.

9:00 a.m.

The parson was at entering a meeting about a coming event in the community when he got a text from a member reading: “Parson, I was at the church and noticed the plants in the sanctuary were in real need of watering. I took care of it. Have a good day.” The parson did not give  much thought to the text and headed to his meeting.

11:00 a.m.

The parson was back at the church for a counseling session with someone. Following the session he left the church while the person who had sought the counseling remained to meet about a children's program at noon. About noon, the parson answered his cell phone. “Hi, Parson, it's me. Look I'm sorry to interrupt whatever you're doing but I thought I should tell you I watered the plants in the sanctuary.

The parson expressed his thanks, mentally filed this information somewhere in the recesses of his mind, and continued toward the hospital which was his next destination.

3:00 p.m.

“Ring. Ring.”

“Hello.”

“Hello, Parson, this is Wanda. I came by to clean the church. Those plants in the sanctuary looked a bit down on their luck so I watered them. Look, I know that Rhonda Milford likes to take care of the plants. But, gracious, she needs to do a better job. I went ahead and watered them.

It was around 5:00 p.m. The parson was sitting on the sofa contemplating the various possibilities of gastronomic delights he could create for himself. Suddenly, out of nowhere the parson's brain brought to the forefront the many calls about the plants.

“Come on, Charlie Brown,” said the parson. “We need to go to the church.”

7:45 p.m.

The parson finally rose from his knees in the chancel of the church. He took the soggy towel and placed it along with the dozen or so others in the bucket. Picking up the bucket he headed to the kitchen to ring them out and take them home to launder.

“Well, Charlie Brown,” the parson commented, as his faithful canine companion jumped in the backseat where the bucket of wet towels were on the floor, “those plants should look really fresh come Sunday morning.”

The Parson, A Smart Ass

The Reverend Dr. Howard P. Scoggins, the fundamentalist preacher at the Church of the Blessed Children of the Everlasting God of the Prosperous and Redeemed, confronted the parson in the parking lot of the local office supply store.

“Well, hello, Parson. Funny I should encounter you today. We were just talking about your church this morning.”

“And who would we be?” the parson asked.
The parson recognized his response as being somewhat combative. But he'd had a lot of problems with Howard since the day he'd thrown two members of Howard's church out of his office when they asked him to sign a petition to prohibit a lesbian couple from being foster parents.

“'We' would be some of the more prominent pastors in the community, Parson.”

“I'm going out on a limb here, Howard,” said the parson. “But I'm going to guess that 'prominent pastor' is defined by those who read from the King James Version.”

“Funny, Parson, funny. You can make fun of the pastors who hold fast to the fundamental principles of our Christian faith if you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you're engaged in supporting a lifestyle that is contrary to the teachings of God.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” the parson asked.

“I'm talking about that transitional housing program your church supports.”

“Well, Howard,” said the parson, “we don't just support it, but we actually founded it.”

“There you are. You sound like you're proud of supporting the lifestyle of the drug infested, God-denying, reprobates of society.”

“Actually, Howard, I am proud of every single mother with children who has gone through our program. Everyone of them has become a success in the world.”

“Yeah, so you say. I say you're coddling sin. You're saying that the church will reward their unprincipled behavior.”

The parson opened his car door. He looked at Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, in the back seat who was obviously sensing the tension between the parson and Howard. For a split-second the parson thought about letting Charlie Brown out of the car. Instead he decided to break off the conversation.

“Look, Howard, I have to go,” the parson said. He moved behind the steering wheel.

“So, you don't want to have a discussion about this stuff your church is doing?”

“No, Howard, I don't.”

“Why won't you defend yourself?” asked Howard.

“Because, Howard,” said the parson, “Mama told be it wasn't fair to get into a battle of wits with an unarmed person.”

The parson started his car, drove away, and as he merged into the traffic said to Charlie Brown. “I shouldn't have said that, Charlie. But sometimes I can't help being a smart ass.”

An Ecumenical Attempt

Charlie Brown, the parson's faithful canine companion, completed his walk around the outskirts of the the QuikTrip, America's best gas/convenience establishment. Having led the parson back to the car, Charlie Brown then jumped into the backseat, after allowing the parson to divest him of his leash and harness.

As was the custom, the parson then made his way inside where he purchased his daily allotment of cappuccino and then returned to the car where Charlie Brown waited. As was the normal procedure, the parson moved behind the driver's seat, fastened his seat belt, and, in union with the parson's placing the key in the ignition, Charlie Brown barked his “let's go” bark.

The parson responded. Charlie Brown settled down in the backseat and within minutes was asleep. The parson headed north on the interstate toward the exit that would take him back to his abode. For some reason he didn't exit as planned. He headed further north. Sometimes the parson does this in his old age. He just goes where the whim leads.

This day it lead him to an exit north of the usual one. The parson then headed east in search of no particular destination. A few miles from the interstate he turned left down a country road. That's when he saw it.

The building was covered in vines. Shrubs that once decorated it now grew in disarray, obscuring the features. It was a brick building. All the windows had long ago been broken, or possibly removed. And yet it called to the parson. He stopped and surveyed the structure out the car window. Noticing the about to fall over steeple over the roof, the parson gave in to the call of curiosity.

“Come on, Charlie,” he said as he opened his door. Upon opening the rear passenger door, Charlie Brown bounded out, stuck his nose in the air and inhaled deeply to ascertain whatever it is Charlie Brown seeks to ascertain whenever Charlie Brown sticks his nose in the air.

The parson headed toward the building covered in vines and branches. He climbed over the barbed wire fence that bordered the pasture in which the structure was standing. Charlie Brown elected to crawl under the bottom strand of barbed wire.

The parson made his way up to the entrance of what was once a church. He looked into the doorway. The sanctuary floor had fallen in. An oak tree was growing in the center aisle reaching toward the sun that flowed through the large hole in what was once the roof. The chancel was decorated with a preponderance of morning glory vines whose purple blooms seemed to whisper a once forgotten song of praise.

From where sermons had once been preached, the pulpit now leaned at an awkward angle to the left, having partially fallen through what was once the chancel floor but being saved from total disappearance by the exposed joist.

The parson stared into what once was a place of worship, of hymns, and prayers, and sermons, and hope for the future, and children, and baptisms, and ….

The parson pulled back from the door, knowing it was unsafe to enter what was left of the sanctuary. He looked around the front porch. There off to the side he noticed what might be a cornerstone. He walked down from the porch and headed toward the northeaster corner of the building. He pushed branches aside, clamped shrubs under his foot, and pulled the obstructions out of the way to behold the cornerstone. It read:

MethoBapTerian Chapel.

The parson stared at it a long while. Then he turned and headed back to his car. Halfway there he whistled. Charlie Brown came bounding across the pasture, slid under the lower strand of barbed wire and jumped into the car whereupon he immediately began lapping from his water container. The parson, in deference to his advanced age, gingerly climbed over the top strand of barbed wire. He slid behind the steering wheel, fastened his seat belt, cranked the car, and headed out.

“It's a good idea,” the parson said to Charlie Brown. “Maybe someday ….”

Charlie Brown's Church

The planning group was meeting in the fellowship hall. The group had been meeting for a few months now, making long and short range plans for the church to better serve the community.

The group had ordered and studied a detailed demographic study of the community within a five mile radius of the church. They'd evaluated various Sunday school materials and settled on an ecumenical one that would appeal to the larger community. A list of people to be approached to teach the various classes was made and members of the committee appointed to recruit them.

The meeting ended with discussion of possible tag lines to go on church marketing materials, lines that ran from “The Lord's Landmark” to “Multiplying God's Love.” The time period for the suggestions to come in was still open, so the group made no decision.

After a closing prayer everyone was picking up their papers and bidding each other good-bye. Helen Potter, looked down at Charlie Brown curled in the corner quietly chewing on the chewy she'd graciously provided him at the beginning of the meeting. “You know, Parson,” she said. “I've got something you could put on the sign out front that might attract some folks.”

“What's that?” the parson asked.

“How about, 'Where Does Your Dog Go To Church?”

Prayer

The parson sat on the front pew of the sanctuary. The lights had been turned off. The only illumination came from the security light on the pole beside the parking lot penetrating the stained glass. Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, was curled into a ball just in front of the altar table, just barely more than a brown shadow against the hardwood floor.

The Sunday evening Bible Study had dismissed two hours before. The parson had redone the sign in front of the church, made notes on ordering new Sunday school material, and taken inventory of the refrigerator to determine what had to be purchased for the morning breakfast the next Sunday. All the doors had then been locked, with the exception of the side sanctuary door which was the parson's most frequent point of entry and exit. It was on the pew adjacent to and maybe thirty feet from that door the parson sat, the glow from the stained glass windows providing only a soft illumination.

There was a tap on the door. It slowly opened. John Matthews, the senior pastor at a nearby county seat first church, peeked in.

“Parson, Parson,” he called out in a soft voice.

The parson recognized the voice. “John,” he responded, “what's up?”

John, obviously now seeing the parson alone in the darkened sanctuary, made apologies. “I'm so sorry, Parson. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just saw your car and all the lights were off so I stopped to make sure everything was okay.”

The parson rose from the seat. Charlie Brown, noting the parson rising, now stood, stretched, and stepped down from the chancel to stand beside the parson. “No problem, John. Thanks for caring enough to stop. I was just taking a few moments to enjoy the solitude.”

The parson and John stepped outside, both following Charlie Brown who had dashed past them and now sat beside the rear passenger door of the parson's car. As the parson turned to lock the door, John spoke again.

“Parson, I don't mean to be prying, but were you praying?”

The parson turned toward the parking lot. “I suppose that depends on your definition of prayer,” the parson said.

“I have to tell you, Parson, I have a bit of trouble with a devotional life. I mean, I know I should have a more disciplined prayer life, but I just can't seem to bring it off. How do you do it? What do you pray for?”

The pair had now had reached their cars. The parson paused, opened the door for Charlie Brown to jump in. Closing the door he turned back to John and replied.

“You know, John, it's funny you'd ask that. This morning I was listening to Krista Tippett on her program “On Being.” She was talking with humorist and storyteller Kevin Kling. In the course of that interview, Kling talked about when he was a child he prayed for God to get him things. Then as a young adult he prayed for God to get him out of things. I'm at an age now, John, that while I can totally agree with Kling, because that's pretty much the story of my prayer life But now, in my older years, I'm finding that just sitting alone in that sanctuary, without saying anything aloud, and just desiring only that God be with me in this mess of a thing called life, is my most fervent prayer.”

Charlie Brown barked, either indicating an “Amen” or expressing a desire to go home.

A Reason For Going To the Meeting

The parson opened the door of the fellowship hall. Everyone who'd attended the meeting of the Administrative Board had left, rushing to their cars through the torrents of rain that were falling. Just as he was about to step out Jim Hardiman, a pastor from a nearby church came rushing through the rain toward the door. The parson suddenly remembered Jim and he had made an appointment for Jim to borrow a book and pick it up after the meeting at the parson's church this night.

“Holy Mackerel, Parson,” cried Jim as he entered the door. “This is a deluge.”

“It is that, Jim,” the parson responded. “I have to tell you Jim, I'm glad you're here a little early. I would have forgotten you were coming. The meeting let out a little early. Come on back to the study; I'll get the book for you.”

Back in the study the parson pulled his first edition copy of Cora Harris' book, Circuit Rider's Wife, from the shelf. It was a story of a preacher's wife in north Georgia at the beginning of the twentieth century. Cora Harris, whose cabin was just a few miles from the parson's church had been a gifted writer, the first female war correspondent for The Saturday Evening Post during World War I, and someone who'd captured the parson's interest long ago.

“I really appreciate this,” said Jim. “I'll be careful with it. I know it's rare.”

“Thank you for that,” said the parson. “I know you'll enjoy it.”

“Tell you the truth, Parson, I really didn't expect to meet you here tonight. With this weather I figured you might call off the meeting. And from the looks of the cars in the parking lot you couldn't have had more than seven or eight people at the meeting. Why didn't you call it off?”

The parson walked with Jim toward that fellowship hall door, where Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, waited to dash to the car. As they walked, he replied, “You know, Jim, they pay me the same amount of money if all twenty-five or so are here or just seven.”

The Right Choice

The parson and Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, were resting. The parson sat on a rock with his back against a larger one. Charlie Brown was sprawled on the ground beside him working on a chewy while the parson munched on an apple. Wadded up beside the parson was the bag that only a few moments ago had contained a sandwich and some dry dog food.

The parson finished the apple just about the time Charlie Brown looked up as if to say, “Anything else?” He stuffed the crumbled bag and the empty water bottle into the small back pack beside him. He stood at which Charlie Brown also rose with an audible moan. The parson threw the apple core over the edge of the canyon on along which rim the two had been hiking.

The parson hadn't moved fifty yards beyond his lunch site when he saw one of the younger pastors of his area hiking toward him. The parson called out a greeting and the pair stopped, seemingly grateful for the break in their trek.

“Parson, what in the world are you doing here?” asked Robert the young pastor. “Hello, Charlie Brown,” he greeted as he knelt down to pat Charlie and pull his ears. Charlie Brown promptly sat in eager anticipation of attention.

“Just trying to stay in shape,” the parson said. “It takes a bit more effort at my age. How are you doing, Carole?” the parson asked. Carole and Robert had been married a little over two years. She was a talented writer who'd published a few fiction books under a pseudonym. The parson was one of her biggest fans, and probably the biggest in the clergy ranks as Carole didn't reveal her true occupation to many in the ministry.

“Really good, Parson. Really good. It's nice to see you again.”

Before the parson could reply, Robert asked, “Do you come up here often? This is a bit from home.”

“Oh I try to hike in one of the state parks at least once a week, Robert. It keeps the batteries recharged.”

I really wish I could do that, Parson. I don't know how you get the time.”

“I don't get the time, Robert,” the parson replied. “I make the time.”

“Thank you, Parson,” said Carole. “Are you listening to him, Robert?”

The parson picked up on a tone that indicated this hike might have been a grudging concession by Robert.

“I suspect the Parson doesn't have the pressures I have, Carole,” said Robert. “No offense, Parson, but you are serving a smaller church since your retirement.”

“Serving your church takes more time than serving mine?” the parson asked.

“Ah, Parson, I didn't mean anything by that. I know you work hard. But this appointment I have just eats up every hour in the day.”

“How so?” asked the parson.

Carole had now moved away from the parson and Robert taking Charlie Brown with her. Charlie Brown seemed to prefer her scratching and ear pulling abilities much more than Robert.

“Look, Parson, there's not only the sermons to prepare, the sick to visit, other pastoral calls, but I have to make the bulletins every week. I have to prepare all the media for the praise songs. I lead the choir practice. There's just a never ending list.”

“Who did the bulletins before you got there?” the parson asked.

“Well, a woman named Ellen Hanson did. But she seemed really relieved when I took over that for her.”

“Who led the choir before you got there?”

“Okay, Parson, I see where this is going. Look, they found out I knew a little about music and let me do it.”

“Who's going to do the bulletins when you leave?”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Who's going to lead the choir when you leave?”

Robert started to say something. The parson held up his hand. “Listen, Robert, a very, very long time ago on the day I was leaving to go to my first church, my daddy gave me the best advice I've ever received. He said to me, 'Son, you will be a success if, when you leave that church, those people say: Look what we did.'”

The parson looked down at Carole. He made a sucking sound with his lips. Charlie Brown immediately came to his side.

“When's the next novel coming out?” the parson asked.

“June,” she said.

“Same heroine?”

“Same one. Look, Parson, don't buy one this time. Let me give you one with an inscription.”

“I'll treasure that, Carole,” the parson said as the two hugged.

During the hug Carole whispered in his ear, "Thank you."

Carole leaned over to say good-bye to Charlie Brown. As she did the parson grabbed Robert's arm, pulled him a step away and said in a quiet voice, “Listen to me, Robert. Whenever you have a choice of doing the damn bulletin or taking a nap with Carole, you take a nap.”

It Wasn't Charlie Brown

3:00 a.m. Friday Morning:

Ring! Ring!

“Hello.”

“Hello, Parson. This is Jeff across the street. Look, I'd appreciate it if you would stop Charlie Brown from barking.” the phone screen indicated “Call Ended.”

The parson flicked the light on. He looked across the room where Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, lay sleeping and snoring. Then he heard the neighbor's dog barking.

3:00 a.m. Saturday Morning:

Ring! Ring!

“Hello.”

“Hello, Jeff, this is the parson. Just wanted to let you know Charlie Brown sleeps inside. It wasn't him.”

Life In A Different Time

As the President of the United States delivered his State of the Union Address, the parson was settled on the sofa with Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion curled up beside him. The parson listened intently but not so intently his mind did not wander.

The parson remembered the time when, as a pre-teen long before the word “re-cycle” was part of the American conversation, his daddy lectured him for not saving the Coke bottle to turn in for the deposit.

The parson remembered the day he got home from school late because he'd been kept in detention at school. His dad listened to his explanation. His dad agreed the teacher was wrong and the parson was right, but his dad punished him anyway because he'd not spoken respectfully in his protest to the teacher.

The parson remembered the night as the family gathered in the den to watch a movie on the black and white television. The movie was about a company of soldiers bogged down in the horrors of war in Italy. At a particular tragic scene in the drama the parson turned to see tears streaming down his dad's cheeks. He couldn't articulate it then but that night he understood the pathos of war and sacrifice.

The times were different then. Perhaps it was the result of being raised by a generation who had learned the hard way what sacrifice meant. Perhaps that generation born in the Great Depression and called upon to engage in the largest war the world has ever known were more determined than any other to make the world different for their children. Perhaps it simply was a period of greater civility, when the President of the United States was never referred to by his last name unless it was proceeded by his title. Perhaps is was a time more akin to that fictional tavern “Cheers” where everybody in the neighborhood knew your name. Most likely, it was all of that. But it was more.

It was a time when everyone was treated respectfully unless they'd proven beyond doubt they did not deserve respect. It was a time when one stood when one's elders walked into the room. It was a time when the neighbors would correct the wayward child whose parent's were unaware without fear of reprisal. It was a time when parents actually attended the PTA meeting, when grandparents lived with their children, when … well, the parson thought to himself, it was a time that when remembered birthed nostalgia.

The parson didn't watch the State of the Union address on the television. He watched it on his laptop. It's the same laptop he uses to write his blog, his sermons, to inform himself of the news of the day, to impersonally keep in touch with others. And it is the mechanism by which the parson isolates himself from interaction with people in the way he interacted in the days of his youth.

Charlie Brown, somehow knowing the speech was over, raised himself from his curled position. He stretched. He hopped off the porch. He went to the door and then looked back at the parson with a look of “Well ….” on his face.

The parson rose, opened the door to allow Charlie Brown to go outside to do what he had to do. The parson waited on the porch. He stared down the hill on which he lived toward the house of the neighbors across the street. Their light was on. The were up. Perhaps, they'd been watching the President's address also.

The parson stared and stared and as he stared he remembered again those days of his youth. And the parson made a vow. Tomorrow, he vowed, he would go down the the neighbor's house, knock on their door, and proclaim, “Hi, I'm the parson. I love across the street. What's your name?”

Extra Duties

The day began, as do most days, with Charlie Brown, the parson's faithful canine companion, and the parson going on their usual walk around the outskirts of the QuikTrip, America's foremost convenience stop. The local QuikTrip doubled as a truck stop and that afforded the parson and Charlie Brown a long walk.

After the completion of the walk during which Charlie Brown had carefully marked the entire area as his territory, the parson removed his harness and leash whereupon Charlie Brown hopped back into the car. The parson headed inside to purchase his daily dose of cappuccino.

Exiting the facility a man stopped the parson, “Excuse me,” he said, “are you the Parson?”

“I am,” said the parson.

“Can I talk with you a minute?”

Back in an area of the store where there were booths for truckers to sit the man talked with the parson about difficulties he was having with his father. The conversation continued for a half hour.

The parson left, obviously later than he'd expected, and headed to the local CVS pharmacy to pick up some medication for a family member. At the pharmacy counter a woman tapped him on the shoulder, asked his to listen to her story, and the parson did. At the end of the story he promised to refer her to the proper agency in the county where her needs could possibly be met.

The parson delivered the medications to the family member. Returning to the car he looked at the time. With as much haste as avoiding arrest would allow, the parson headed to the church where he was scheduled for a pastoral counseling session with a couple. At the session she yelled at him and he yelled at her. And the parson wondered what kept them together. Exhausted at the end of the time, the parson headed home.

The phone ring just as he entered the house. The woman's electricity had been cut off and she wanted to know if the parson might be able to pay the unpaid balance to have her power reconnected. The parson called the electric company. After listening to the information he received he didn't call the woman back.

Just after lunch there was another call. It was a younger pastor in the area hoping he might talk to the parson about a problem at his parish.

Mid-afternoon, the parson received a all from a family advocate in the school system wanting to know what vacancies there might be in the parson's church's transitional housing program.

Around supper time, a couple, on a conference call, contacted the parson about marital problems they were having. The parson scheduled a time to meet with them.

Charlie Brown, sat beside the parson as he prepared supper, obviously, hoping for some handout with more taste that what was in his bowl. The parson decided to share a bit of his supper and tossed a third of his steak on top of the undesirable food already in the bowl. Charlie Brown gobbled it up as one entitled.

Later in the evening the parson looked at Charlie Brown and said, “You know, I didn't hear from any church members today.”