“And Rachael is going to write a poem for our Pastor’s Wives Appreciation Luncheon,” she announced to the women’s Bible study group as we dismissed.
“What?” I said. “Wait a minute, Sandy!” I said, as I chased her into the lobby. “You can’t just order a poem. It doesn’t work like that! Do you think this is like driving up to Dunkin Donuts and ordering a small light extra cream and sugar?!”
“Well, if you don’t want to do it, I can find someone else.” She said nonchalantly as she spun around and walked away.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to do it. I can’t just make this happen!”
“Hey!” I said, as she pushed through the doors. “Pray for me!”
I stood alone in the church. “God?” I said. “Help. Please? What do you want me to say?”
(Sarah’s daughter refers to the scripture: 1 Peter 3:6)
The night after I wrote For the Pastor’s Wife, I returned from church distressed. I threw myself onto a chair and said, “God, what about my pastor? What about the pastors, Lord? …Who is the pastor?” This was His answer:
© 2016 Rachael M Colby