Over the past couple of years, I have awakened, albeit slowly, to the recognition that I am something less than a microorganism in the larger scheme of life. This has nothing to do with my recent situation.
Actually, it is by pure happenstance. First, Ellen beat me to the punch. She’s been a pretty faithful Presbyterian for more than a few years and her dad was, to put it mildly, a late adopter. Secondly, it traces, ironically, to the bank. My friend John Cleghorn was a high ranking guy, but heeded the call to a small, mixed race church (Caldwell Memorial Presbyterian) as the head minister. The number of congregants wasn’t above a couple of dozen, and in a weak moment told him I’d visit, if for no other reason that to show him some support and to boost the offering plate by a few bucks – and to also buy time with Ellen whenever she asked if I was going to church. That was several years ago.
Well, I haven’t stopped attending. I can’t claim to have ceased being a heathen either (as I remind John repeatedly) but that’s another tale. The short version of the long story is that there is something in me that recognizes it’s okay to be there. Part of my penance (as heathen-in-chief, as I also remind John) is to write and publish the 12 page monthly church newsletter. I emphasize the heathen thing because John knows, I think, that on occasion I avail myself of breaks in the action to quietly bow out of the sanctuary in order to make my tee time. At least he gets me for a little while.
Reid is entirely another kettle of fish from his sister and dad. I’ve never discussed, let alone harped on, any aspect of religion with them (or you) but there is a time for full explanations. Next Monday might be that time.