The meeting was about to begin ….
“Hello, Parson,” she said, “you don’t remember me, do you?”
The parson studied her features. She seemed familiar but he could not place the face. Fortunately, she continued without leaving opportunity for him to stutter through the ritual of the forgetful.
“I was in the Lay Speaking class you taught at Ripe For the Harvest Church a few years back. I don’t know if you remember or not you suggested I should consider full-time Christian service. Well, guess what? I did, and here I am. I got appointed to the Church By the Meandering River. And here I am at my first preacher’s meeting. Pretty cool, huh?”
The parson sat down beside her and the two talked. The parson now remembered her and the penetrating questions she’d raised. He also remembered the emails they’d exchanged for a few months following the classes. She was excited about her new church, and the parson got a confident feeling the church was in good hands.
They went into the meeting. The parson headed to a pew in the rear and off to the side while she headed further down the aisle to join some friends. The various presentations were made by church officials. Exhortations were made to pay the denominational asking despite the lagging economy. And then the group was adjourned to the fellowship hall for a light lunch.
The parson, after placing a portion of goodies on his paper plate, the size of which would not bring insult to his diet, settled at a corner table where three colleagues as old as he were telling well-rehearsed stories of better days gone by. After the meal, the parson rose to place his plate in the trash, and started toward the meeting room again.
“Excuse me, Parson,” said a man in his fifties with premature gray hair. “You don’t remember me, do you?” The parson had to admit he did not. “I’m Edward Howard. Back in the 1970s I was at a meeting at your church. I talked to you about speaking at my church on Laity Sunday. I’d never done any public speaking, and you sat down and let me go over my ideas with you. You won’t remember but the scripture was the Prodigal Son. When we were talking about it you mentioned that was the only time in the Bible that you knew of when God was in a hurry. Well, that was my sermon: “God In A Hurry.”
The parson smiled and acknowledged that he remembered the incident now.
“I want you to know, Parson,” said Edward, “I’m preaching at that church again this Sunday. But this time it’s not Laity Sunday. In fact, I preach there every Sunday now. The bishop appointed me there in June. I just wanted to thank you for helping me find this path.”
They walked into the meeting together. As the proceedings progressed, the parson sat in his pew near the back and off to the side and decided that maybe it all had been worth it.
:)
Posted by: mmp | July 28, 2010 at 10:08 AM