Despite what Mtr. Mother is telling the world, I was not hung over at church this morning.
The fact I spent most of last night in a horribly smoky bar that aggravated my allergies to the point of a sinus migrane is why I left the sanctuary at the Creed for the couch in the parish hall.
I was sharing the couch with a gentleman who comes most every Sunday, like I do. I’ve never seen him in the sanctuary, though, and he doesn’t take Communion. He comes in, reads a paper, has a cup of coffee, talks with parishoners who have known him for years, and warms up or cools down, depending on the weather. He’s homeless, you see. And as much a part of our church as the Senior Warden.
We exchanged pleasantries, he invited me to share his paper, and I explained I had a headache and was going to sit with my eyes closed for a while. Which I did. And that’s when he looked into my heart and spoke prophecy over me.
“When you have decisions to make, and when you put them off, they start making your head hurt,” he said to me. “And you’re arguing and fighting and you’ve got to just let go and take that leap.”
I was too tired and in too much pain to lie or equivocate. “That first step, it’s the scary one.”
He laughed a bit at that. “The first step is the scary one. The second step, the sticking with it, that’s the hard one. You just need to trust God. That’s all you gotta do. Leap, stand, trust God.”
He went back to his paper. I spent a few more minutes there in silence, and I don’t know if it was the decision being made or the asprin. Maybe both. My head stopped hurting and I was back in the sanctuary in time for the Offertory. I put a few dollars in the plate.