I remember that time I tended bar and told bawdy jokes. As I laughed and pranced, quite proud of
myself because, after all, I had no talent for jokes, a guy stood up from one
of the wing back chairs he had been sitting it, quiet and unnoticed. We had been very busy that evening, two
conventions in town. At this time of the
night only a few remained – my captive audience and this gentleman who stood
up. One of our groups was a convention
of military chaplains. Tim was his name
and he was a preacher and he felt the need to tell me. I grew up in the church. I knew all about churches and pastors,
certainly, so I thought. He shattered
that image for me and do you know it was me who sought him out afterwards to go
get a couple of long necks and talk about a God I didn’t remember. It has been hundreds of wild nights and
hundreds of no longer wild nights since then.
I didn’t change overnight. In
some ways I haven’t changed at all. I am
still a small girl who wants to know the way, a girl that wants to stop seeking
approval from others, and a girl who ultimately wants to look up to God and
claim him as her Father. If it is a
choice then I must still be straddling the fence. But I am different than I was that crazy
night. Not sure why I am thinking of
you, Tim, but here’s to you. Cheers.
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