Just One Glimpse

by Donna Poole

Just One Glimpse

by Donna Poole

Gabriel glided down, sat next to the two men on the grassy hillside, and smiled. “I figured I’d find you here. Florence and Izzy told me to look for you in heaven’s remotest field.

Bud and George looked at each other and grinned. They were each chewing on long pieces of green hay.

“We like the fields, Gabe. Wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or nothing, but we kinda prefer it out here to those crowded streets of gold.”

Gabriel chuckled. “We’ve all figured that out by now. You know, we don’t have favorites in heaven, but if we did, you might be two of mine. I love your earth stories. Which one are you telling today? Are you reminiscing about the time before you knew the Lord when you saw someone getting baptized in a lake? As I recall, you ran into the crowd that was gathered on the shore to watch the baptism. You yanked down your suspenders and yelled, “Who’s drowning? We can swim! We’ll save them!”

George and Bud laughed.

“Nah,” Bud said. “We were just talking about the little country church we helped start.”

Gabriel nodded. “Oh, I remember. The tiny white frame building, the one on the corner of two dirt roads. Lickley’s Corners Baptist, right?”

“That’s the one!” George replied. “Bud and me were just talking about our second preacher and his wife. We got ‘em when they were fresh out of college, John and Donna Poole. They had a little girl with golden curls, almost two years old, and they were expecting another baby come Christmas. They were just twenty-five and looked kinda like hippies, but we loved em anyway. Donna had long dark hair to her waist, and Pastor Poole’s sideburns reminded some folks of Elvis. A little boy once asked him if he was Elvis!”

All three of them laughed.

“Pastor Poole taught us a lot,” Bud said, “But we had to teach him a thing or two first. Didn’t we, George?”

“Oh yeah, and Donna had a lot to learn too. She didn’t know a canner from a spaghetti pot, and he didn’t know a combine from a planter, but they learned fast. Remember the time Pastor was a little late for church and came in with his suit muddy cause he’d helped a neighbor chase down a stray cow?”

“Yep,” Bud said. “Figured then he might last at the Corners. But remember the time he preached a sermon about the two fighting men in the church in Philippi? I had to invite them over for lunch and tell him in the kindest way possible those two fighting men were women, and maybe he should remember that in case he preached about them again.”

“Never did ask you how he took that, Bud.”

“He took it pretty good. Better than he took it the time I invited them to lunch and told the pastor he’d started to sound angry, preaching people should do more to help out at church. I told him he could say anything he wanted to us in his sermons, but if he wanted us to listen, he better preach with love.”

“Pastor had a point though, Bud. Some of the church folk back then thought it was their spiritual gift to warm the pew with their butts.”

“Ahem!” Gabriel was trying not to smile.

“What?” George asked. “I’m not supposed to say butts in heaven, Gabe? Guess being here over a decade hasn’t taught me all the vocabulary yet.”

Gabriel avoided the question. “Keep telling me about this young preacher. Did he last, or did he leave?”

Bud answered, “We don’t know what happened to him after we came here, but he lasted as long as we did. I suspected he might last the first week he was pastor. I called him up and gave him his first job as our new pastor. I asked him to come up to church, help me turn over the outhouse, and get the bees out of it. He did it and got stung in his hand. Swelled right up too, but he just laughed and said nothing he’d learned in pastoral theology in Bible college had prepared him for tipping over outhouses.”

Gabriel laughed. “So, the church didn’t have any inside facilities?”

George answered, “Nope, not for a few years. Then we got us an inside bathroom by going to a garage sale. Got us a new furnace too, some registers, and I think a sink and a toilet. Hey, Bud, remember early on when the church board was worried we’d run out of money and Pastor Poole would have to leave because we couldn’t pay him?”

Bud smiled. “How could I forget that? I took Pastor for a walk. I told him when we ran out of money, couldn’t pay him, and he had to leave, we didn’t want it to ruin his ministry. We wanted him to go on and find another church, because we felt like he was a good pastor, and God was going to use him. He made a lot of mistakes when he was young, but he and Donna did one thing right. They loved people.”

“What did he say to you?” Gabriel asked.

“He said the church wasn’t going to run out of money, and he wasn’t going to be leaving. I admired his faith. But he didn’t know something then. When the offerings didn’t come to the 115.00 a week we paid him, we board members took money out of our own pockets to make up the difference so we could pay him. Still don’t know how in the world he made ends meet. We couldn’t give him much money, and the family kept growing. I hope that little church is still on that corner, though I doubt Pastor Poole is still there. I mean, who stays in a little church on the corner of two dirt roads that long? Gotta be more than fifty earth years now.”

“Hey, Bud.” George elbowed him and grinned. “Betcha the church IS still there. Don’t you remember the prayer Pastor’s mom always prayed when she came to visit? She prayed so loud you couldn’t help but hear her. ‘Lord, bless this little pastor and this little church on this little corner, and may it be a lighthouse until Jesus comes.”

Bud laughed loudly.

“What’s so funny?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s just that by then the little pastor wasn’t so little anymore.” Then Bud gave George a sweet, serious look. “But I loved that pastor and family, and that church. My son was a deacon there when I came to heaven. I hope God is answering Pastor Poole’s mom’s prayer. I hope the church is still there and still a lighthouse. It would mean a lot to me to look down and see.”

George sighed. “Me too, but you know the rules here. It doesn’t work that way.”

Gabriel looked up, nodded and smiled. “It doesn’t work that way, but there are exceptions. Look down quickly, this won’t last long. You get just one glimpse.”

Clouds parted, and George and Bud looked down. “What do you know about that; there’s an addition on the church!” Bud exclaimed. “And they have a fellowship hall and more bathrooms? Who’s that couple with gray hair? She uses a cane and walks stooped over. And who’s the older man sitting on the right of the auditorium?”

Gabriel chuckled. “That’s your pastor and wife. His son is on the church board. And the older man? That’s your son, Vincent. He’s still a deacon, and there’s not a person in that church who doesn’t love him. Some of those people in the pews are the Poole’s kids and grandkids. They have fifteen grandchildren now, sixteen next month!”

The clouds closed, and Bud exclaimed, “Wait, Gabe! I still have questions! Does Pastor Poole still make mistakes? Does he still love people? And will the church be a lighthouse on the corner until Jesus comes?”

Gabriel smiled. “I believe Pastor John still makes mistakes, but he loves people more than ever. And will the church be a lighthouse on the corner until Jesus comes? Only God knows the answer to that, but I hope so.”

The three of them were quiet for a moment, thinking.

“You know, people in heaven pray too,” Gabriel said. They heard a faint voice, turned, and saw a woman on her knees.

“Father,” she prayed, “please keep blessing my son, that little pastor, and that little church on that little corner. And may it be a lighthouse until Jesus comes.”

“Doesn’t she know her son isn’t so little anymore?” Bud whispered to Gabriel.

“Mothers never seem to notice,” he whispered back. “Let’s not tell her.”

The end.

***

These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Four: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter