Sunday evenings at 6PM, the parking lot at the Baptist on Main fills again. After the morning Sunday School and Worship Service, people return for a more informal study visit with the Pastor. Each class holds an hour-long lesson, bringing the Bible to life. Real life applications and testimonies are shared, while everyone benefits as our little country church grows.
Attending every meeting, we’re all on a first name basis by now. Sharing crochet patterns, card games, and recipes, the members are enjoyable company. Working to live a better life, there is much common ground. It’s comforting to find that others have similar problems. The struggle is real.
One lovely aspect of our fellowship is prayer requests. There is no shortage of sadness in this world of ours. Names are added to the prayer list, as we ask that their situations improve. Just this week, a woman claimed a healing of her back. With pain-free relief, she came to church glowing for this pain had robbed her of many activities for a very long time. So many suffer with the illness of a spouse. Taking VST’s hand as we walked through our own nightmare, there was never a more terrifying or lonely feeling. It’s an honor to carry sorrow for friends needing comfort.
Last night, a young couple I hadn’t yet met with sat near me. Adorably in love, they blended their families in marriage the first week I visited the church. Similar in age to VST and I when we married in 1988, they’re everything new marrieds should be. Loving. Supportive. Eager to build their new life together. Good parents. Faithful spouses. Glowing.
Last night, they came overflowing with troubled sorrow. Her fur baby of 18 years had been injured earlier in the day. In pain severe, they transported her 30 minutes away to the nearest vet emergency room to find there’d be a six hour wait before the dog could be seen. With temperatures hovering at 100, she’d be more comfortable at home. All day, they watched over her, not knowing what else they could do but make her comfortable. Slowly the pain subsided and she rested. They’d visit their normal vet the next day, hoping for the best.
Small and sweet, our town lacks many services that residents of a larger city takes for granted. An ambulance ride to the nearest hospital East or West is 30 minutes. EMT’s and Urgent Care can take care of the initial assessment, but, patients with serious illnesses or injuries needing hospital care are in a precarious situation. The big city to the West does offer Life Flights, when minutes count the most. Pets are not that fortunate. Vets are open M-F, 9-5. Dental services are offered M-F, 9-5. We all hope for no weekend emergencies, because in our little town, there are none.
Bride-girl went on to share about her job with the county Sheriff’s office. Not a deputy, she explained that she had a more troubling job. She dealt with securing records and evidence. Grizzly and gruesome evidence. Pictures. Stained items. Murder weapons. Grief soaked relics of horror. It was her job to account for every one and carefully file them away for their date with justice. As she told of her work, the weight on her shoulders was evident. The toll it was taking, obvious. This sensitive and lovely woman was carrying quite a load. Sorrows of crimes that couldn’t be undone kept her awake at night. Seeing the unthinkable, she worries plenty about the safety of our community.
As I listened, I realized I could help a little with her burden. I’d help her carry her load. What better place than in a little country chapel to sit quietly and listen? She didn’t need a Miss Fix-It. Just a listening ear in which to off-load her overflowing fear and frustration.
Reality isn’t always pleasant. I found out there are over 100 sex offenders living in my “little town”. Our county finds home for 75 of them EACH MONTH. Not something I wanted to hear, but something I needed to hear. It’s easy to get lulled into a sense of security, when the truth is, one needs to be aware of surroundings. Bad guys don’t always look the part. Look at pictures of Ted Bundy.
In a matter of minutes, she’d shared a bucket of trouble. Through our talk, the two spoke as one unit. Enchanting to behold, I only wished I could revisit 1988 when I had VST by my side, the world spreading before us with possibilities.
Our visit was wonderful. Just like that, two more friends added to my growing list. Now, when entering the chapel, friendly friends greet each other. We exchange updates on personal news. Ask about community events or the details of the latest Covid victims. We visit. A lost art. No noses stuck in cell phones around there. In fact, cell phones don’t ring, but laughter does. Better than anything television has to offer, for sure.
Think about carrying sorrow for a friend. Their load is as heavy as yours. Listening leads to healing. Grab a little baggage from a weary traveler. You never know what stories they have to share.