(no subject)
I never stopped to really think how uplifting a simple human act of kindness can be to someone, you know?
It's had me smiling all day.
I went to St. Matthews, and spoke to the Reverend. He insisted I just call him Tom, but I didn't feel comfortable with that. So, he's Reverend Tom to me.
He's an incredible guy. If I hadn't met him in the church, I don't know that I'd have approached him. He's VERY tall, for one. Built like a linebacker. Which he was, in college.
We talked most of the morning away. His wife (sweetest woman not named Willow I've met recently) brought us lunch and glasses of home-brewed iced tea, and we sat in his office with the windows open so we could hear the world outside.
I told him that I had a very rough near-death experience. And I wanted to give something back to the world, to help out, to make my time here count for something more.
He listened to all of it. I think he could tell I wasn't being entirely forthcoming, but he didn't try to push or to pry. He just told me that he wasn't used to people as young as me coming to the church looking to offer something. That it was usually about what they could get from the church. Which is so not me.
I went with Reverend Tom, and his wife (Marie. I have to start thinking of her as Marie, or she'll get upset, she said.) to visit one of their congregation in the hospital. A sweet little old lady of 92 years, named Emma.
She's been on a machine to keep her kidneys running for the last year. You would think that when we stepped into that room, the last person she'd want to see would be a complete stranger. But she welcomed me as if I were her own granddaughter. She insisted on giving me a hug.
I'm going back to visit her next week. I'll be there as often as I can.
Reverend Tom gave me a bible. I think I'm going to try reading it. If I'm an angel, at least I should know where it is I'm supposed to have come from, right?
It's had me smiling all day.
I went to St. Matthews, and spoke to the Reverend. He insisted I just call him Tom, but I didn't feel comfortable with that. So, he's Reverend Tom to me.
He's an incredible guy. If I hadn't met him in the church, I don't know that I'd have approached him. He's VERY tall, for one. Built like a linebacker. Which he was, in college.
We talked most of the morning away. His wife (sweetest woman not named Willow I've met recently) brought us lunch and glasses of home-brewed iced tea, and we sat in his office with the windows open so we could hear the world outside.
I told him that I had a very rough near-death experience. And I wanted to give something back to the world, to help out, to make my time here count for something more.
He listened to all of it. I think he could tell I wasn't being entirely forthcoming, but he didn't try to push or to pry. He just told me that he wasn't used to people as young as me coming to the church looking to offer something. That it was usually about what they could get from the church. Which is so not me.
I went with Reverend Tom, and his wife (Marie. I have to start thinking of her as Marie, or she'll get upset, she said.) to visit one of their congregation in the hospital. A sweet little old lady of 92 years, named Emma.
She's been on a machine to keep her kidneys running for the last year. You would think that when we stepped into that room, the last person she'd want to see would be a complete stranger. But she welcomed me as if I were her own granddaughter. She insisted on giving me a hug.
I'm going back to visit her next week. I'll be there as often as I can.
Reverend Tom gave me a bible. I think I'm going to try reading it. If I'm an angel, at least I should know where it is I'm supposed to have come from, right?