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Just Finishing The Week

Jeb was in his workshop listening to soft Christmas music as he finished sanding a batch of honey drippers. He was in the contemplative state that came naturally when he did work of this kind.

“Jeb?”

“Hello?” He put down his sandpaper and the dripper he was working on. “Is somebody there?”

“It’s just me.” Pastor Greg’s head was poking in the door.

“Come in, please. I’ve got the pellet stove going. Come in and warm up, Pastor.”

The young man smiled and stepped into Jeb’s workshop. “Thank you. I hate coming unannounced but I was making the rounds…”

“That’s okay, Pastor. You’re always welcome here. Can I take your coat for you?”

“Oh, I won’t stay long. I just wanted to stop by while I was passing this way and see how you’re doing.”

“Just finishing the week with a bit of touch up work on these pieces.” Jeb wiped the wood dust from his hands with a shop towel and reached out to shake the pastor’s hand.

“I marvel at your skill, Jeb.” He said with a firm shake of Jeb’s hand. “I think if you locked me in here with all of these tools and a stick, I’d probably still just have a stick when you let me out.”

“I think I’d be about the same way if you gave me a pad and pen to write a sermon with. God gave us all a different piece of the puzzle. That’s what Mom always said.”

“I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet your parents. How are they doing?”

“They seem very happy. They have friends and a nice place near the shore. Dad misses the snow but not the shoveling.”

The pastor chuckled. “It’s a position I’d like to be in eventually.”

“Are you sure I can’t take your coat for you? I’ve got some coffee if you can spare the time.”

“Well, I could stay a bit if you don’t mind me intruding like this.”

“I don’t feel that you’re intruding. I was hoping for a chance to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Pastor Greg slid his coat off and tucked his scarf and ski cap into his sleeve. “What do you need to apologize for?”

“Ducking out the side door after the service. Mom said I shouldn’t do that.” Jeb took the pastor’s coat and hung it on a coat tree near the pellet stove.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I was a bit confused at first but folks explained how you feel about crowds.”

“Even so. There’s no excuse for being inconsiderate. Your sermons mean a lot to me and, honestly, it’s rude of me to sneak out without taking the time to thank you for the work you put into them.”

“Well, there. You’ve said it. No harm done.” He stepped closer to the stove to warm his hands. “I want people to leave feeling…”

“Uplifted.”

The pastor smiled. “Exactly. The service is structured to make you feel as if you’ve been a part of something uplifting, as you said. Most people don’t mind the slow shuffle. I know you do. I feel that it might spoil the good that the service does for you to have to endure something that you just weren’t made for.”

“I’ve been living in my own little world for all this time, Pastor. I’ve recently gotten to thinking that maybe it isn’t good to get so set in your ways. God put us here to help one another, didn’t he?”

“I believe so, Jeb. I think you’re absolutely correct.”

“Well, who am I helping out here by myself?”

“People who can’t do this.” The pastor admired the piece that Jeb had been working on when he came in. “May I?”

Jeb handed him the unfinished honey dripper. “It needs a bit more sanding and a coat or two of varnish.”

Pastor Greg turned it in his hand and looked at the crenelations in the top of the utensil. “It looks a bit like a holy water sprinkler.”

“It’s meant for drizzling honey.”

“How do you get the varnish into these narrow grooves? I’m really fascinated by this vocation of yours. How did you know that you had found your calling?”

“When I was just little, Dad and I used to sit on the back porch with a stick and a pocket knife and just watch.”

“Watch what?”

“God’s TV channel.” Jeb took the piece back and looked it over before putting it down next to the sandpaper. “Sunlight dancing on the pond. Wind rippling through the trees. Autumn leaves blowing around in little tornadoes around the yard. There was always something amazing to see. Birds and squirrels and butterflies…”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It was. We had a lot of wonderful times together.”

“You’re missing that, I think. Someone to share the joy of God’s creation with.”

“I hadn’t thought of it until recently.”

“I see. How are you feeling about it now?”

“Confused. I never felt as if I needed anyone before. Mom and Dad were great company. When they moved South, I…”

“Jeb?”

“I don’t know. I was just kind of…coasting. I get a boost from being at church each week. It feels like family.”

“It is. People like you, Jeb. You’re certainly part of the family. You’re very well thought of.”

“In spite of how I act?”

“I don’t think you’re acting inappropriately. You have a way about you. People respect your need for personal space. Nobody really minds as far as I can tell.”

“I mind. I’ve been thinking about making some changes.”

“Do tell.”

“These Advent devotionals are really inspiring.”

“Advent is a time of preparation.”

“Yes.”

“Preparation for a massive change. The world was aching for the prophecies to be fulfilled, Jeb. I think you’re waiting for your own world-changing miracle. I think you know you’ve waited long enough and the hour draws near.”

“I think you’re right, Pastor.”

“That’s cause for celebration, Jeb. Have you any idea who it is you’ve been waiting for?”

“I don’t know if I should jinx it by saying. Here, I promised you some nice warm coffee. Let me get you a cup.”

“Sure, Jeb. Thank you.” Pastor Greg raised an eyebrow in frustration. ‘Rats, I thought for sure he was going to say…’