Why She Keeps Coming Back

The parson began the Sabbath with his plan to ensure he'd stay at the church another year or two. He arrived early, slapped the sausage patties on the grill, smacked down two packs of bacon on another grill, mixed the pancake mix, scrambled the eggs, and generally provided a pre-Sunday school feast for the membership. The parson's strategy involved his theory that preachers are a dime a dozen, but a parson who can cook is hard to come by.

The feast ended. The Sunday school began. The parson retreated to a quiet corner to review his sermon. Halfway through the Sunday school hour he headed back to the kitchen to get something to drink. As he filled his mug he heard someone in the fellowship hall, part of the adult class that met there, chime out, “There's some food on the table, Florence, get some.”

The parson peered through the pass-thru window and spied Florence dishing up a hearty meal. He pondered for two seconds what brought her to the church so early on a Sunday morning. It was on the third second of his pondering he surmised why. Florence needed some assistance. Florence was the most gracious but persistent beggar the parson and the parson's congregation had ever encountered.

Apparently, Florence left after consuming the parson's gourmet breakfast. But when the service was over and the parson walked back to the fellowship hall Florence was back.

“Parson,” she called out, “I need to talk with you.”

“What do you need?” the parson asked.

“I need some groceries. I've figured it up and I think thirty dollars would cover it.”

“I'm not going to give you any money, Florence,” the parson said. “But I will buy you some groceries. Make me a list and we'll talk about what I'll buy or not buy.”

The parson headed back into the sanctuary to talk with a member about a project. When he returned, Florence held up a paper towel on which she'd written out her list. The parson sat down and the two negotiated what he would and would not purchase for her. Florence was diabetic and her choice of groceries did not always enhance her good health.

“Okay, Florence,” said the parson. “I'll have this for you at the Soup Supper tomorrow night.”

“Okay,” she said. “Hey, do you think you could help me out with some brake repairs on my truck.”

“Not today,” said the parson. “It's Sunday. The bank is closed.”

Florence looked at the parson a moment with her head cocked to the side. Then. she responded, “Okay, I get it. You told me last week no more money until November. Right?”

“Right,” said the parson.

Florence smiled, “Okay, Parson, but thanks for the groceries. I'll be here tomorrow.”

The parson bid her good-bye. After she'd left a church member came and sat down beside the parson. “How come we're always helping Florence?” he asked.

“Because,” said the parson, “she's really good at what she does. And we're really good at what we do.”