Questing Parson

Letter to Ms. Parson's Granddaughter

Dear Sara,

Your Mama told me it finally happened. Yesterday your tears fell in torrents because your Memo is gone. Weep, Sara, weep; your weeping is a precious gift from God.

You have been so strong, so brave, holding back your tears because you didn't want to cause your Mama to weep more. Hold them back no longer, Sara. Your Mama and I have wept our hearts out, and while we weep still, we wil be the brave ones for a while. Now, it is your turn.

You don't have to be brave about this anymore, Sara. I haven't been so. Your Mama hasn't been so. We miss your Memo so, so much. So weep Sara, weep. Weep because in your weeping God will bring you a blessing, a blessing of comfort, of fulfillment, and most of all a blessing of presence.

I remember the first time I met you. You probably have forgotten. It was three weeks after your Memo married me. The second week after that two of my grandkids came to spend the night. The next weekend you insisted you spend the night. Memo smiled about that, Sara. She smiled at your determination, even at that young age, that nothing would come between the love you and Memo had for each other. And nothing did, Sara, nothing ever did and nothing ever will.

Sara, if you're like me, you probably are having feelings that “I wish I had told her...” “I wish I had spent more time with her ...” I wish … If only ...” Oh, Sara, I wish I had said “I love you” more often. I wish I'd spoken more tender words to her when they wheeled her into surgery. For a good part of the last two months I've beaten myself up over that. So, I know how that can haunt you.

You're still young Sara. Oh, I know you've gotten your driver's license. I know you're not that little girl who came over to protect your relationship with Memo right after we got married. You're a young woman now, a young woman of beauty and poise and on your way to accomplishment. So, Sara, I'm going to talk to you like your Memo would, seeing as how you're a young woman and not a child. Memo used to tell young adults like you to “stop focusing on the woulda and the coulda. Spend your time on what's real.”

Here's what's real, Sara. You miss your Memo. Life will never be the same without your Memo. And you can cry buckets that she'll not be sitting in the grandmother's chair at your wedding, and she won't rock your babies. But Sara as cruel as that is, as unfair as that is, no one will ever be able to take this from you: Your Memo loved you beyond measure. What's important is not what we shoulda said to her, what we would do if she were still here. What's important, Sara, is her love for you.

Memo is dead, Sara. God help you and me, your brother and your Mama, but Memo is dead. Yet nothing will ever destroy the love Memo had for you Sara, nothing. Look at these pictures, Sara. See the love in her eyes for you.

Time will diminish our pain and our feeling of loss. But time will only magnify that you knew such a depth of love. And you will continue to know it. I suspect that, with time, when you do something of worth in life you'll experience that delightful smile she flashed when she was pleased with you. I expect that when you're wondering what path to take you'll feel her presence beside you.

So, Sara, weep. Weep as much as you want. And don't wait two months to let it go this time. And if you need any help you come over to Memo's house and we'll hug and weep together. But when the tears are cried out, when the sobbing is done and we're breathing normal again, I'll look at you and I'll see Memo in you and we'll hug and laugh because we were blessed enough to know that special, special love that came from your Memo.

I love you, Sara.

________________________________

Now, about your grades ….

Witness to Immortality

“Nice of you to meet with us, Parson,” said the Reverend Brother Sammy Hopkins, “it was a little unexpected?”often

The parson was not a frequent visitor to the meetings of the local ministerial group. Two reasons were responsible for his lackluster approach. The first reason was simply he was retired, and while he had agreed to pastor a church no one had mentioned attending preacher’s meetings. The second reason was the parson’s theology tended to be a bit different than the meeting’s attendees. And yet, when there was a community issue he felt was important, he joined in the effort with enthusiasm.

“Ah, Sammy,” said the parson, “it shouldn’t be unexpected. I’m always glad to participate in these community projects.”

“Let me ask you something, since you’re here, Parson,” Brother Sammy said. “Somebody told me that Andrea Rawlings was attending your church.”

“She is, Sammy. She’s a real blessing to us. I know she’s a member of your church, but since she moved to the other side of the county, she’s been coming to worship and volunteering  to help out often,” the parson informed him.

“I heard that. I just hope she’s aware of the consequences.”

“I heard about your consequences, Sammy. I heard that she’s been told if she joins our church she’ll not be allowed to be buried at your church.”

“That’s correct, Parson. That’s correct. Our cemetery is reserved for members of our local congregation.”

“And it doesn’t matter that her mother and father, her husband, and a sister are buried in their family plot there. If she joins our church she’ll not be allowed a burial in her family’s plot?”

“That’s out church’s position, Parson. I understand a little that Sister Andrea might want to attend your church with it being so convenient to her and all. And I understand that as long as she’s visiting she might help out from time to time. But joining your congregation officially will prohibit her being buried at our church.”

“Even if her name is already engraved on a headstone there?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I sure hope you stick to your position, Sammy. It would be a big help to us.”

Sammy wrinkled his brow. “A help to you? I don’t understand.

“Am I correct that Andrea’s name is already carved on the headstone that marks her husband’s grave?”

“That’s right.”

“And it says, ‘Marvin  Rawlings, 1932-2004’? And then there’s Andrea’s name with her date of birth,  dash and a blank space waiting the year of her death?”

“Well, I give God thanks for your policy, Brother Sammy, and as I said I hope you stick with it.”

“I didn’t think you’d be one to accept this policy, Parson.”

“Oh, Sammy, I don’t necessarily accept the policy. But I recognize its benefits. You know, if you folks stick to that plan and Andrea lives long enough or she joins our congregation, I figure it can only mean tremendous growth for out church. After all every time someone walks through your cemetery who knows Andrea’s situation, they're going to pause, look at that tombstone, and, knowing Andrea attends our church, will come to the opinion that being a United Methodist has the impossibility of immortality.

About Those Lenten Sundays

 The First Sunday in Lent the parson was determined would bring a break in the busy month he’d experienced the week before. A combination of church and personal events had compounded the tension of the prior week’s schedule. As a consequence the parson found himself on Saturday in a desperate rush to get things completed.

A change of the home phone number to Ms. Parson’s new cell phone number had prompted the phone company to mistakenly disconnect the DSL connection. After an hour-and-a-half with the service rep the mistake was corrected. But now the printer was not synced with the new DSL. Finally, the parson threw up his hands in resignation, rested his head on the back of the sofa and let the Olympic curling event on TV slowly ease him into sleep.

On the First Sunday in Lent, the parson announced to his congregation that for Lent he had given up preparing bulletins.

The service had proceeded well. The needed words of the liturgy appeared on the screen, and everyone entered well into the spirit of the day. Following the benediction the parson had directed Ms. Parson and a visiting grandson toward Ruby Tuesday’s for lunch. Charlie Brown waited in the car for his expected bone.

Olympic Curling was again on the TV when they arrived at the house. The parson pulled off his shoes, tie, and coat, and dropped on the sofa where he put his head on the back. Soon Curling rocked him to sleep.

The parson awoke with a start in the afternoon. He suddenly realized he need to to one more small chore at the church to completely finish the week. He called Charlie Brown, who, with obvious distain, lifted his head from his sleeping pallet. “Come,” said the parson. Charlie Brown followed.

At the church the parson was about the completion of the chore when Chloe Bennett, a seventeen-year-old came dashing up to him.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve got a crisis. Can I talk to you?”

The parson found himself a bit taken back. Chloe was the last one he felt would be experiencing “a crisis”. He studied her a moment and noted her obvious sincere expectation.

“What’s the crisis.”

“Okay,” she said, “here’s the deal: I gave up sweets for Lent, and this year I’m really going to keep my promise.”

“That’s nice, Chloe,” said the parson.

“Okay, but, like I said, I’ve got a crisis.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Here’s the deal,” said Chloe, “Pam said you once said that Lent is the forty days from Ash Wednesday until Easter, but you don’t count Sundays.”

“I probably said that.”

“Okay, then here’s the deal. You see, it’s Sunday.”

“It’s Sunday?”

“Yeah, it’s Sunday. So they’re going to have chocolate swirls at the youth meeting tonight. So, it’s Sunday, okay. So, I can have one, right?”

The parson stood completely still. He pondered the question, considering the pros and cons of the possible answers. And wondering not only what the question implied about the girl but the church also.

“So, Parson,” asked Chloe with impatience in her voice, “I can have a chocolate swirl tonight. Right?”

The parson smiled, “Sure,” he said, “but just one.”

“Oh, cool, Parson,” said Chloe. She reached out and hugged the parson.

As she skipped away the parson headed toward his car, with Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion by his side. As he walked he thought: I really should have brought up that  “except Sundays” thing when I was in seminary.

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