Pastoral Counseling Of A Sort

The annual Ornament Swap Party was winding down. The only folks still at the church were in the kitchen cleaning, putting pots and pans away, and doing what had to be done. The parson was helping by drying the dishes. Helen Ponder, a young lady of eleven, going on twenty-five, pulled on his sleeve.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” said the parson, “what's on your mind, Helen?”

“Not here,” she whispered and nodded her head in the direction of her mother who was sweeping the floor.

The parson immediately dried his hands on a dish cloth and pointed toward his study. Helen led the way.

“Okay, now we're in private,” said the parson. “What's up?”

Helen plopped herself down on the sofa. “Okay, this is one of those pastor counseling things, right? And that means anything we say here in your office is just between you and me. I mean, it's a kinda secret, right?”

“That's probably right, Helen,” said the parson. “It's right as long as you don't tell me anything that I think your parents really need to know. I can't tell you I won't tell your parents, but I won't do that unless it's absolutely necessary. Okay?”

Helen stared at the floor a moment. “Okay, I guess it's okay. I trust you.”

“So,” the parson asked again, “What's up?”

“What's up is my parents.”

“What's up with your parents?”

“Okay, Parson, I'm really worried about my parents.”

“What are you worried about?”

Helen sucked in her breath and then let it out in an audible sigh. “What I'm worried about is they way they act like nothing is wrong.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Well, yeah, Parson. Something is wrong. My dad hasn't had a job in almost a year. And I think it's just making him feel terrible. I mean he doesn't smile very much anymore. And he and Mom are arguing a lot.”

The parson leaned forward from his rocking chair. “Don't you think that your dad not having a job this long would make things stressful?”

“I know that, Parson. I understand what's going on. I mean, I talked to my aunt about it. I know about all this stuff about my Dad not feeling like he's worth what he used to be. And I understand that because he is feeling this way he and my Mom are going to fuss a lot.”

The parson stared at this remarkable young lady. Then he said, “So, what's troubling you?”

“Okay,” she said as she sucked in another breath and slowly let it out, “here's the thing. They act like I'm some little kid that doesn't have a clue what's going on. They act like I can't understand. I mean, do you know my Dad has never actually told me he lost his job. Can you believe that? I go to school and my Dad is there. I come home from school and my Dad is there. I'm not a stupid woman, Parson.”

The parson smiled. “You know, Helen, they may not be telling you because they don't want you to worry.”

Helen seemed to be taking inventory of the parson' bookshelf before she answered. When she did, she said, “So, my Dad just hangs around the house playing video games. My Mom is fussing about everything. And we're eating a lot of hamburger helper, but they don't want me to worry? Do you see why I'm worried? I mean, well, Parson, you know what I mean.”

“I do, Helen,” said the parson. “I do. Where's your Dad?”

“He's out in the car waiting for Mom.”

“Okay, why don't you go tell your Mom and Dad I want to talk to them.”

“So you're going to do that pastor counseling thing, right?”

The parson didn't laugh. He even forced the smile from forming. “Actually, Helen,” said the parson, “I think I'm just going to make it possible for you to talk to them. Does that sound like a plan?”

“That's a plan,” said Helen. “I'll get them.”