a surrender - 54

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter seven, "freely have you received, freely give") 

A couple weeks later we arrived at a church Wednesday night, just as people were going in. So we joined them. After worship, since it was already dark, I asked the pastor if we could sleep outside the church. He seemed reluctant. “There’s been some problems,” he said, “and the police come around here….” When I asked if he thought we should just move on down the road, though, he grew more uncomfortable, then consulted with one of the other men. They offered us the man’s shed for the night. But then another man, who had overheard our conversation, stepped in. “I’ll take care of them tonight,” he said. We stopped by his house where his wife made us sandwiches, then he took us looking for a motel. As it turned out, a motel wasn’t easy to find. He ended up driving us all the way to the town where my friend Tom lives, where we had planned to stop for a few days.

Tom is a potter who I first visited on a walk five years earlier. He lived with his young son, Slate, who has cerebral palsy, but whose eagerness and energy make it easy to not notice the crutches. Tom’s home, his little gallery, and his workshop and kiln shed were tucked back into the woods, a comfortable place to rest for a while. And he had become quite the pizza chef since I had seen him last. The first night he served us pizza with gorgonzola and pear on handmade plates, each one beautiful and unique. And the day after that, he showed Heather how he was making some small platters, and she got her hands in the clay and shaped fifteen of them. I was happy to see her enjoying that new experience. Later, admiring the pottery, we noticed a lovely chalice and plate set that was meant for celebrating communion. When we asked about purchasing it, Tom gave it to us. He mailed it back to the farm, where we would use it to serve communion to the guests that came for retreats with us. Our bellies and our hearts were very full when we said goodbye to Tom and Slate.

Continued...