Questing Parson

Pay Attention to Details

The parson was spending the night at his son’s house. He was heading to the hospital early-thirty the next morning for some tests, measurements, poking, sticking, and all those other things he’d agreed to let the researchers do to prevent others in the future from being where he was.

As was his custom, he made himself comfortable on a little love seat, with a pillow behind his back, a glass of wine on the side table (His son had said, “Dad, have you ever thought you might drink to much?” To that the parson replied, “What? Do you think it will kill me?”), his son’s dog was cuddled up on the love seat with his head in the parson’s lap. And behind the parson, sitting on his usual stool, looking over the parson’s shoulder at the laptop screen was the parson’s number 4 grandson, Al, age 10.

As was the custom, when the parson came to spend the night before the hospital adventures, he and Al were binge watching old episodes of   The Amazing Race. Al has a habit of identifying which contestants he doesn’t like in the first episode of each season. During the particular season they were watching, Al had identified a male contestant as his villain. He based it on the man’s disrespect for his wife, the way he yelled at her, the manner in which he put her down and blamed her whenever they did not come in first on that leg of the race.

In this particular episode, the villain in Al’s mind and his wife came to one of the tasks needed to be performed. They opened the envelope. It said that only one of them could complete the task and that person should be one that was good at details. The man immediately said, “I’ll do this one. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He opened the next page of the instructions and discovered he needed to run down into a little valley and identify details painted on the faces of the indigenous people. He immediately took off at a dead run down into the area where the indigenous people were. As he rounded a curve on his way down he looked back over his shoulder at his wife cheering him on. That was the point in which he ran smack dab into a pole.

Al, still looking at the laptop screen over the parson’s shoulder, said in a quiet voice, “Well, there’s a detail he missed.”

Discussing the End

The parson stepped down from his step ladder, took a few steps backward, and looked up at the sign in front of his church whose message he’d just changed. He nodded in agreement with himself that the spacing was okay. He smiled as he read the new proclamation: If you don’t go to church because of the hypocrites, worship here. We need one more.

As he was folding the little two step ladder, he heard a voice behind him. “Hello, Parson.”

The parson turned to behold Debra, a young lady just a few months short of being a teenager reading the sign. “I think that’s funny,” she said.

“I do, too,” replied the parson.

“Where’s your folks?” asked the parson, realizing school was still in session and she was alone.

“Oh, she’s at Dollar General,” said Debra as she pointed toward the store. “I asked her to let me off so I could talk to you.”

“You didn’t go to school today?” 

“No sir,” I didn’t. I’ve been at my aunt’s house in Tennessee. I spent the weekend up there to be with my cousin during her gymnastic competition. Mom, let me stay an extra day. So, by the time we got back it was really too late to go to school. So here I am.”

“Well, walk with me while I put this ladder up, okay”.

“Okay,” she said. “Look, I can carry the ladder.” And she darted around the parson to take charge of the ladder.

Ladder placed in its place, the parson said, “So Debra, was there something special you wanted to talk about? Is it serious?”

“It’s serious,” said Debra, averting her eyes from the parson and toward the ground. Her voice was just above a whisper.

“Well, let’s go sit on the porch,” suggested the parson.

Sitting on benches facing each other, the parson continued, “What’s up?”

Debra stared at the parson. The parson noted how watery her eyes were and knew what was coming.

“My mom told me they announced at church Sunday you are dying.”

“I am,” said the parson.

“I thought that new drug and your operation killed your cancer.”

“It did,” said the parson, “but there must have been some microscopic cancer cell that they missed, and now that cell has multiplied and multiplied.”

“Why don’t they cut it out and give you some more of the new drug?”

“They can’t cut it out, Debra, because of where it is inside me. And the drug was only approved for the experiment. I am taking another drug, but I don’t think the doctors feel like it will work.”

Debra was silent a moment. She fidgeted on the bench as she stared at the concrete. Finally, she looked up. “Can I sit beside you?” she asked.

“Sure,” replied the parson as he patted a spot beside him.

She moved to the spot, settled back, rested her head on the parson’s shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” the parson said. “And if it ever hurts it will be only in the last few days. And my doctor will give me some medicine to take care of pain.”

“Will you have to go back to the hospital?”

“I don’t think so,” the parson said

She reached down and began rubbing the end of the parson’s shirt cuff between her thumb and index finger. She began to hum a song the parson did not recognize.

“But you’re my pastor,” she said.

“I’ll always be your pastor,” said the parson. “But I won’t be physically here much longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Some time between now and next October, or maybe a little longer than that, I’ll be going.”

“You know I’ll miss you.”

“I know you will. And as long as you miss me part of me will live.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You’re doing it,” the parson said. “You’re being my friend.”

Debra’s mother drove up to the bottom of the steps leading from the porch. “I guess she wants me to get in the car,” Debra whispered.

She removed herself from the bench and held her hand out to the parson. The parson took her hand and walked with her down the steps. Debra’s mother was looking out the driver’s side window, seemingly not wanting to talk. The parson opened the passenger door. Debra got in and fastened her seat belt. They began to drive away.

As the car was pulling onto the highway, the parson heard her yell, “I love you, Parson.”