Patterns

The parson was changing the sign in front of his church when an old pastor friend drove up.

“Hello, Parson, it’s awful cold for an aged cleric as yourself to be out in the wind.”

“It is, Howard, it is. What brings you to my little country church?”

“Just passing by on my way to visit a member in the hospital. I saw you out here and thought I’d stop to say hello.”

“Come on in for a minute, Howard. I’ve got some fresh coffee in the kitchen.”

The two walked into the church. The parson took a moment to put up the letters he’d taken off the sign into their proper places on the shelf. Then they headed to the kitchen where the parson poured the coffee into mugs with the   logo of the church on them. He and Howard then headed to the parson’s study to relax as they talked.

“I drove past your church the other day,” the parson observed. “That’s a neat touch, where you folks put that fence around the property. It really makes the church stand out when you drive past it. I like it a lot.”

“Good to hear you like it, Parson,” said Howard with a smile. “because it caused quite a stir in the congregation.”

“You had folks opposed to it?”

“Actually, not exactly. We had one person opposed to it. And before we knew what had happened there was an anti-fence group that based their objections solely on the fact the one was opposed to it. Can’t hurt anyone’s feelings you know. You see, the original opposition was from the fellow who cuts the grass. He didn’t want the fence put up because it would mess up the pattern he’d developed over the years. The fence, you see, would be right smack dab in the middle of his turn-around area.”

“But you got the fence up.”

“We did. And we have anew fellow cutting the grass. He’s trying to establish a new pattern.”

“And when you leave,” the parson observed, “the new pastor will be up against the ‘old’ pattern you helped establish.”

Howard held up his coffee mug, “Ah, here’s to the patterns of the church.”

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