There are those days in the life of every pastor. It was two for the parson. One group disapproved of the way a project was being handled by another group. Each group called the parson. Each gave their view.
The parson listened; he tried to quietly express his opinion. It was exasperating. Perhaps it was so particularly because the parson was tired. He didn't want to deal with church issues. At one point he leaned his head back against the couch and in his mind rewrote the end of the gospel:
Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried. The third day he rose from the dead and appeared to his disciples. Peter said, “Lord, while you were in the tomb we organized a church.” And the Lord Jesus replied, “I'm out of here.”
Every pastor has those days. But not every pastor's day ends as did the parson's.
“Hello, Parson. It's Wilma Maddox.”
“Hi, Wilma, how are you tonight.”
“Well, from the look of things I'm probably a bit better than you. Harvey and I were talking. He said he thought you looked a bit distracted this morning. Look, we just want you to know that whatever you're having to deal with at the church or at home, Harvey and I love you and we're praying for you. And, look, if you ever need to get away from it all, just call. You can hide out here. Just park your car in the garage where no one can see it and make yourself at home in the guest room.”
“Wilma, you'll never know how much this call means to me.”
“You mean a lot to me and Harvey, Parson. Don't you ever forget we love you.”
Wilma bid the parson good night. The parson looked at Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, on his bed across the room. “Charlie Brown, I've decided to keep on keeping going.”