Never Missed a Meal

Having read on the weather forecast several days ago, it was to be far cooler today than yesterday, and by the time early afternoon arrived, it was 83 degrees and rising. At least the rain we were supposed to get today, was pushed forward to this evening, so hopefully, we’ll have some much-needed moisture soaking into our dry soil.

My Sunday morning contemplative session didn’t go as well as normal, and for the life of me, I don’t know why. In spite of it being my usual method, and like mindset of all the others, I was finding it exceptionally more difficult to reach that threshold of prayer.
After having focused all the harder, I did finally get my session completed, and while walking out of my dark corner, I wondered if I was unknowingly in a spiritual/mental funk. I’m sure such difficult sessions take place with even the best of contemplatives.

One of my dear friends happened to call me just before I had to head over to St. Paul Lutheran so to get myself prepared for their Services. We had a very short but good chat, and before I hung up, I promised to catch up with him sometime this week. Since he enjoys hearing about some of the crazy happenings in real estate, I did touch on the man with his severely burned hand. After thinking about it these past several days, that guy had to have his guardian angel watching over him, as he was lucky to have kept from catching his clothing on fire. I’ll still not forget the old gent in our City who caught his winter clothing on fire from a defective snow blower, and subsequently lost his life in that tragic accident.

When I got over to St. Paul, the first thing I did, was to get myself situated on their organ, and then run thru each piece in the order in which they were to be played. The hymn that was in A-major sounded much better on the organ than it did on my piano, which was a relief.

By the time their Services were over, the only two mistakes I made, was coming in too soon with one of the hymns, and playing the wrong chant line for the Minister, but at least I did get back on the correct line for the members’ sung response. Other than that, everything else went better than expected.

While walking out, two different members came up to me, just to give thanks for my playing for them, which I found touching. One of them even went on to say, “I’m hoping you’ll end up joining our community.” I smiled and said, “Well, it’s more of a possibility than you may think, so we’ll see.”

Whenever walking away from someone at St. Paul who’d just thanked me for playing, even at best, I could count on both hands the number of times I was thanked by anyone over in a church I played and sang at for well over twenty years. At the time I thought it a bit odd they remained tight-lipped about it, but I just let it go. Yet whenever I accompanied a song leader who did a good job, I would freely and willingly thank that person for their time and talent. The last time I darkened that church’s doors, there was no organist playing, but rather a show-off pianist plopped up front for all to see and hear. I’d recently heard they’re now getting a little jazzy. For Heaven’s sake, what next? I’m going to start reminding more people about a recent finding where they’ve discovered our timeless classical music is being played 30% faster than it was 50 years ago. It sort of stands to reason with us all try to do our job of living in this hurry-up/keep-up world.

After I returned to office, I changed my clothes and went back to my long-overdue yard clean-up. I get very hard on myself when finding I’d not maintained something properly, but I keep reminding myself that in these recent years, there were more important chores on my plate, so like they’ve said for generations, “A cobbler’s children usually go shoeless.” Yes, I’ll be diligently working on getting things back to an acceptable normalcy.

After toiling for about three hours, I decided to call it quits for the day, and get some shopping done for things I’ve been forgetting to buy such as softener salt, along with other personal items which more sooner than later, get used up.

Now please don’t think me wicked when talking about how much more weight people seem to have gained during these pandemic months when saying it’s been nearly an across the board happening with our young, our old, and all ages in-between. And don’t think it’s gender specific either, because there are just as many grossly overweight men running around as there are women.

I stopped at a groceteria for a carton of half and half, along with some orange juice, and while walking to the check-out, I was in shock when noticing several young couples with their carts heaping full, while the both of them continued to steer around their aprons fat. Back when I was in school, there’d be maybe one student in the entire class that would’ve been considered fat, but not in these times, as that particular “thick” one from years ago, would’ve been dwarfed by what I’m now seeing.

Some months ago, a sassy friend of mine also mentioned how our population is growing overweight, and of course she had to interject, “I’m wondering if some “cloaked” aliens are checking up on us every so often, just to see when we’ll be ready for harvesting.” That was a memorable statement which sent a chill up my spine. I wish she wouldn’t have shared that wicked thought with me, as every once in a while when I see someone who appears to have never missed a meal, her words come rolling back to mind.

Tonight’s One-liner is: Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.

Joe Chodur

About the Author | Joe Chodur

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