Just as I was about to concede that maybe they could, I recalled the two things that ran me up the wall about the whole process: the secretive way that Madge and her board had gone about acquiring a house, and the fact that the house was nowhere near hers or that of any of the other board members. If that didn’t tell you something, I don’t know what would.
And to think that my church, the church that I had supported for lo, these many years, was acting in the name of all the members, including me, without telling us one word about it just ran me up a wall.
“Lillian,” I called, as I picked up my pocketbook, “I’m going across the street to speak to the pastor. I’ll be back before long.”
“You better put on a sweater or something,” she said. “It kinda breezy out there today.”
I was hot enough to withstand the strongest breeze, so I took off across the street and into the church by the back door that led to the Fellowship Hall and the group of offices for the staff.
When I reached the side hall that led to the office formerly occupied by the Reverend Larry Ledbetter, I was stopped in my tracks. Beside the closed door of the receptionist’s office hung a large, new sign reading OFFICE OF THE SENIOR PASTOR. Senior pastor? Did that mean we were getting a junior one? And who was going to pay his salary, I’d like to know. Well, of course I knew. We were already well into our annual stewardship drive and, as usual, the bottom line on the new budget was much higher than it had been on last year’s.
I walked in without knocking, closed the door behind me, and strode up to Norma, who was sitting at her desk. Unhappily, when Pastor Ledbetter retired, she had not.
“Norma, I need to see the pastor.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her eyes barely flicking up toward me before returning to the paper on her desk.
“No, I do not, as you well know, since you make the appointments. But I know he’s here because his car is parked in his reserved space. This is important, Norma, tell him I’m here.”
She blew out a long breath, then very deliberately put down her pencil, got up and walked to the door of the pastor’s office, went in, and closed it behind her.
I was boiling at the rudeness of a paid employee. I knew what was going on behind that closed door. As Pastor Rucker was so new to our congregation, Norma would be giving him a summary of who I was, how much I gave to the church, and her own assessment of my standing in the community. And I knew what she thought of me—pretty much the same as I thought of her.
Finally, Norma returned, walked slowly to her desk, and took her seat, carefully smoothing her skirt behind her before settling in.
“He’s very busy,” she said, “but he can see you for a few minutes. You might note, Miss Julia, that he tries to be available to the members’ concerns. Even,” she said with a sniff, “if they are minor ones blown out of proportion.”
“Norma,” I said, so angered that I could barely control my voice, “I do hope that you have a good retirement plan, because you’re going to need it.”
Then I walked into the pastor’s office, closed the door behind me, and quickly took note of the room. It was pretty much the same as when Pastor Ledbetter had occupied it, but I had noticed on the budget an item for refurbishment of the pastor’s study. I made a mental note to specifically designate my pledge for items of which I approved. And refurbishing the pastor’s personal space was not one of them. The room was perfectly fine. In no way was it worn or soiled, and the only reason to redo it would be to change the color scheme. As far as I was concerned, Pastor Rucker could live with it as it was. There is absolutely nothing wrong with beige.
“Pastor,” I said, approaching the large mahogany desk, “I am Julia Springer Murdoch.”
“Ah, yes, of course I know who you are.” He stood behind the desk, looking shorter and younger than he did when he was in the pulpit. His fine, sandy hair was meticulously combed, and perhaps gelled to stay that way. “Please, have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”
He reseated himself before I could move one of the visitors’ chairs closer to the desk.
“Pastor,” I said, “I’ve just read the article in today’s paper and I am appalled to learn that our church and you, yourself, are supporting this group of newcomers to our town in their ill-advised project of housing latent juvenile delinquents in a stable neighborhood. And not only is it a stable neighborhood, it’s a neighborhood in which some members of our congregation live who have small children. I would like to know by whose authority you have done such a thing.”
“Why, Miss Julia,” he said with a condescending smile, “I’ve done it by the authority of our Lord. ‘Let the litle children come unto me,’ you know.”
That almost stopped me, but not quite. “I take that to mean that the session has not approved it. Is that correct?”
“Well,” he said with a smile, “they will. Fact of the matter, though, I’ve discussed it with two or three of the elders and they’re most supportive. I’ll be presenting the total program at the regular session meeting next week.”
“So you’ve discussed it with a few elders, but not with any of our members who will be directly affected. I am speaking of the Pickens family, Mrs. Helen Stroud, and Sam and myself—all members of this church and all directly affected by the close proximity of that house and its problematic inhabitants.”
“Miss Julia,”
