Way too busy field dressing fish.
Backstory
Let it be said that I am not in the best of moods.There is this second cousin of mine... Previous to my father's massive stroke (and the end of him being either useful or fun for this second cousin) my father and this man were close. They spent their childhood together fishing, hunting, and generally being young boys of the 1950's and 1960's. They both married and the families were close. At the time of my father's stroke this man made certain that he showed up to the hospital to tell us of how very sorry he was for this to happen to my dad. But since then we've not seen him too much. This guy calls other family members and informs them "I went by Mickey's house..." What he must mean is that he drove by on his way to work, because he's never stopped. Never rung the doorbell and hung out with the man he used to call his friend. And everytime he would bump into my mom at the grocery store, he'd always mention how he had just shot the best deer and was going to bring my dad some that week. Those weeks passed. He never came.
My grandmother on my mom's side died. And since there was going to be family congregated that would possibly notice him not being there, he showed up. He stood by my dad and told great stories of his most recent accomplishments. The three foot catch, the ten point buck. He must have lost track of which great accomplishment he was speaking of when he told my brother and I how he caught this great rockfish and "field dressed" it right there on the spot. What the hell was the rockfish doing in the field? I wanted to ask, but to keep peace, I held my tongue.
This man is a pastor of a church. He is supposed to be a shepherd. Comfort in times of need. To me he is a joke. He is someone that I look at and say to myself "don't be like him." Do more. Show up. Be present. And don't point out all of your successes. And the ways in which you matter.
Because the minute you do you will end up field dressing a fish.
by Believe in Six-Word Memoirs on Dec 07, 2012 | 
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Comments
DynamicDbytheC says,
I will always remember the people who showed up and stuck by us during James' cancer battles. Then there are those that are just looky-loos. This man you describe is an empty shell of a human being. We all know one like him.Wench says,
This sort of 'friendship of convenience' is so sad, especially when it's someone like a pastor, that you want to expect more from.In high school, I attempted suicide and the only person I felt comfortable telling was my Sunday School teacher. He came to my house, told me to trust him, and sat my parents down and told them what I'd said and told them that he wasn't leaving until they'd set up an appointment for me to meet with someone I felt safe talking to. They ended up not really doing that, though, and they told my pastor and all of the elders what had happened. Suddenly, our pastor was telling my Sunday School teacher that 'they'd take it from there' and that he was no longer 'in charge'. Fortunately, he fought really hard for he and his wife to be able to keep meeting with me, but it sat a bad precedent for me with the pastor and all of those weird older men who suddenly knew something really personal about me.
A few years later, still in high school, I found out that my mom had been dumping food in my brother's hair and my dad had shoved him into a table during an argument. I went to that same pastor and begged him to do something, anything to help my brother. Get him out of there, help him get to a family from church's house, somewhere he would be safe. He did nothing. But man, on Sunday, he sure did have that charismatic smile perfected, that tear-jerker of an illustration to go along with his emotionally-charged sermons. I left that church around the same time they forced my Sunday school teacher to leave because of a conflict of beliefs on baptism. A year later, the pastor moved to Virginia without giving the church any warning. I don't like pastors.
DynamicDbytheC says,
We had a priest who raped and molested many children in many states. I was always terrified of him and knew he was creepy. He was kicked out of our town and went to many other cities and states. Years later, with the lawsuits, he was taken into custody and jumped out of a window and killed himself. I left the church after all of that.Loon says,
hypocrisy wears many robesRaisedByWolves says,
Faith is a commodity and platitudes are currency to the preachers of prosperityBelieve says,
Brilliant thought RbW. Should be a six.RaisedByWolves says,
Yeah, lot of hyphens...Grew up in Virginia when Good Ole Pat Robinson got started.
Believe says,
I have dined with Uncle Pat and lived to tell about it.RaisedByWolves says,
Chitlins and biscuits?RaisedByWolves says,
My last comment sounds snarky. What I ment to say, that having met Mr. Pat Robertson on three occasions with my father in the 60's (when his TV station was erected); He always struck me as disingenuous, and his speach was palaver.If he is indeed your Uncle, tell him I said Hi!
Believe says,
Fried chicken. LolRaisedByWolves says,
Ah Chick-fil-A! I knew it.Believe says,
I remember thinking that he looked like he had been embalmed. And that was ten plus years ago.RaisedByWolves says,
Look what happend to Moses...it ain't easy waltzing with the Almighty.Believe says,
Please post "ain't easy waltzing with the Almighty" so that I can favorite it.RaisedByWolves says,
AKCDancing with God
A Novel
by Mary-Margaret Smith
oopsalittle says,
Kudos