Snowy Days and Baptist Visitors

The parson indulged himself with a rare Sunday evening out. Sitting in a local eatery he watched the rare Georgia snow trickle down upon the frozen ground. Before him was the slight remains of a steak. The baked potato had been completely consumed, skin and all. Now the parson enjoyed a quiet moment

It was the first Sunday back in the pulpit since Ms. Parson had died. It was a good Sunday, cold,icy, with only the dedicated in attendance.

The night before the calls had come. “Parson, we having church tomorrow. They say it's going to snow.” The parson suggested to the callers it might be prudent to wait til morning before cancelling the worship. The parson discovered as the envening went on he was in a minority. Across the TV screen the crawler announced the cancellation of one church service after another.

At dawn the parson and his faithful canine companion, Charlie Brown, tested the day. It was bitingly cold. The wind peppered the parson's face with blowing flakes of ice. But the roads were safe.

The parson's phone began to receive text messages: “Are we having services?” The parson responded to each: “We r – c u there.”

Some of them were there. Some of them, which made the parson consider texting the ones who were not back asking, “Why'd you ask?”

Now the day was over. The snow was still falling. The air was still cold. The town was still quiet, devoid of much activity. The parson enjoyed his solitude and reflection.

“Hey, Parson, how are you doing?” asked Harvey Mulberry, Senior Pastor of the Sandy Creek Baptist Church of the Deeply Immersed.

“I'm doing okay,” replied the parson. “I appreciate the note you sent, Harvey.”

“My pleasure, Parson. You're still in my prayers. Say, someone told me you guys had worship today.”

“We did, Harvey. It was a really good service.”

“I'm surprised you didn't call the service off, Parson. With all this snow and ice it can be dangerous.”

“Well, we checked the roads first, Harvey.”

“Nevertheless, Parson, I'm not sure what's the benefit of having the service on a day like this.”

The parson watched Harvey settle into a booth with his companions. He placed a generous tip on the table for Emily, the server, and headed out to the car where Charlie Brown at his approach roused himself from his sleep.

The parson cranked the car and pulled out onto the ice free road. “Remind me, Charlie Brown,” he said, “to ask the treasurer how much the Baptists visitors dropped in the plate this morning.”