Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I hear Jason shuffle in his chair, causing me glance up. He looks thoughtful, his hands holding open the book he is reading.
“Remember back in seminary when you had this exact same problem?”
“No, I don’t remember,” I say in a tight voice.
Jason looks at me like I’m an idiot, his eyes narrowed. I know he doesn’t think I’m an idiot, and it’s probably just me projecting. But still. My co-pastor is really starting to get on my nerves.
“It was our final year of college, and we were thinking about divinity school,” he begins. “I cared a little less about the specific school, so I left it up to you, and you went crazy researching stuff. So crazy that you wouldn’t accept any help. You wouldn’t even open the emails I sent with suggestions.”
I remember this clearly. I am what some people consider stubborn. I can admit that.
“But I guess the main difference between then and now was that back then, you felt you had too many choices. But today, you feel like you don’t even have one choice. Similar but different, no?”
“Maybe,” I say grudgingly.
“No listen, trust me I’m right,” Jason sits up a bit, leaning towards me. “Back then, you were able to figure out what seminary school we should go to, and I’m sure you’ll figure this out as well, but you went through a whole lot of stress just to come to a decision. All I’m saying is maybe a little outsourcing is what you need. It’ll take some of that burden off of your shoulders.”
I think about what my friend is telling me. I distinctly remember what he’s talking about. Choosing a seminary felt like the most important decision I’d ever make at the time. If I chose the wrong place, our entire career could have been bumped onto the wrong track and we’d be screwed forever.
And back then, Jason did want to help, but I refused because it was my job to find us the perfect school. I was so obsessed with making the right choice that frankly, it became a little unhealthy.
Now, I’m doing the same thing all over again. Being my stubborn self and taking on all of the burden when help is at hand.
“Okay, so you have a point,” I tell him. The thing is I still don’t want him to help me because he does have his own stuff to do. He’s been sitting around in this office with me because he saw me struggling.
“So, you’re going to accept my help?”
“No,” I say quickly.
He looks disgusted but doesn’t say anything. It’s a little funny.
“But I know where I can find help,” I say, trying not to be an ass.
“Oh, you do?”
“Yes. Why don’t you go take care of what you need to, and when we get back together, I’ll give you a progress report. Sound good? Trust me, I’m not going to let down our congregation.”
Jason looks like he wants to say something smartass, but instead he nods and gets up. I know he has a whole host of questions, but tough. He’ll have to wait until later.
“I’ll see you later, then. Good luck, buddy.” He leaves my office, probably to go back to his. I, too, get up because what I need isn’t in here. In fact, it’s at the entrance of the church, right by the front door so that all parishioners can see it. With a sigh, I head to the lobby, looking to solve my little problem.
I make it there and find what I’m looking for: the anonymous comments box. It’s an unremarkable brown wooden box, off to the side and bolted to the wall. We set this up so that people who attend our church can write any thoughts they were having. Jason frequents it a lot more than I do, mostly because I think he likes reading this shit.
I open the wooden cover, knowing I’ll find notes that are relevant to our congregation. With this, hopefully I’ll be able to get some insight into what ails the people and speak directly to them as a result. That is truly our goal. We want our congregation to feel a connection to what we’re saying at sermons, whether it’s current events, politics, or simply praying for those in need. Even if every sermon isn’t applicable to someone’s current life situation, it should still feel relevant in some way.
After all, we’re a church for the people, and who am I to point fingers? Jason was right when he said I should be more open to accepting assistance.
Suddenly, I hear a sob over one shoulder. I turn and my eyes peer into the gloom of the church. Holy shit, there’s a girl sitting in one of the pews, her head bowed as she cries. Curly brown hair tumbles forward, covering her face, but it’s her curvy figure that gets me going. Even though I can’t see all of it, she’s clearly soft and womanly, wearing a sweater that doesn’t even begin to mask her generous shape. She sniffles again, looking up a bit and my breath catches.