A Different Story

The meeting was over, but no one seemed in a hurry to leave. The conversation centered for a while on each participant's hopes for the church in the next few years. There was laughter; there was a sense of pride. The parson, sitting at the corner of the table, listened with pleasure.

Eventually, the talk wandered to more personal matters. “Fran,” one lady asked another, “how are things with your sister?”

“How are things with Helen? Oh, my goodness, do you have a few hours. I don't know what we're going to do with her.” Everyone listed to the tale of Helen's refusal to assert herself in a difficult situation at her work. “I'm just flabbergasted,” said Fran, “Mama wouldn't want her rolling over and playing dead like that.”

“I know what you mean,” interjected Susan. “Have you heard about Sam and Veronica? They decided they're not going to church anymore. I mean, just out of nowhere they're not attending. You know Sam was the lay leader of his church for a long time. Veronica says it has nothing to do with the new preacher. But you have to wonder.”

The conversation headed around the corner and seemed to be gathering in all the disappointing people in the community to the table. The parson listened quietly. Susan finally turned to him. “Parson, what do you think about all these people? It seems like everywhere we look people are, well, you know ...”

The parson rose in preparation for leaving. “You know, Susan, my grandfather used to say, “To live above with those we love, well that will be glory. To live below with those we know, now that's a different story.”