On Sunday I slept in, did some morning stuff and got ready for church. I made it there a little early and snapped some photo's before entering, whereupon I found one less person than the week before. One lady was not present, making a total of five, including the preacher and myself.
There seemed to be a hastiness about the service. The pastor kept cutting himself short, saying "I'd like to get into this further but we are short on time."
We had only sung two songs. That was okay with me, I had a hard time reading the tiny text in the Hymnal.
The man in front of me found a spare Bible when it came time for the reading and handed it to me. I had left mine at home, because I was having trouble reading it's small text, also. Also it was a translation I disregard and I thought "I will find the right one, along my journey." I have been offered and declined many Bibles, along the way. I have even looked for a REAL King James Version, in the stores, to no avail.
The man handed me the Bible and the pastor said "Now you keep that Bible!"
It is a KJV. Not quite the version I wanted but the closest I have found. I opened it and the text was very tiny, however I was just gifted several pairs of reading glasses, so it worked out!
The old pastor seemed tearfully preachful, at moments this week, but it was mostly the yelling that seems to predominate here. I secretly named him 'Old Yeller.'
Lot's of yelling about the sins of the world and not a lot of telling of the answer.
The sermon suddenly drew to a quick close, after only forty minutes. The pastor mentioned that "they" needed to catch a plane to Chicago. He asked if anyone would like to add anything.
The "previously bent over man," walked to the podium and began his lamentation, all the while staring at me, like he was trying to pierce through me with his unblinking eyes.
"Unless a man be 'born again' he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God. You must trust in the Lord and give up your old ways." and on and on. He looked at nobody else but me.
I thought of the man he was, last week. Bent over with his troubles and unable to give them to God. Perhaps I should have stood up and preached to him!
As we were all rushed out, I talked with the man who had handed me the Bible. He was on his way to the hospital to see his very sick wife, Bertha. I could see the pain in his eyes. The conversation was too brief. I told him I would be praying for her and him, also. He thanked me and I thought to myself "This man is closer to God than anyone else, in here. Please bless him and his dear wife, Lord!
I hate to admit it but I was happy to be out of that place.
I was almost home and the 'previously bent over man' stopped his beat up car in the road and asked me if I needed a ride.
"No thank you, I just live right there." I pointed to the house.
"Okay, have a great day." he said.
He went off down the road, the car sputtering and shaking along, on the back was a blazing red bumper sticker with white letters, 'JESUS!'
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At home, I ate and made some coffee. I prayed and thought of what I would do for the rest of the day but those thought were interrupted, when my phone rang. It was Mary Lou.
"Hi Jeff! Dan is coming to get you, so you guys can start on the roof, is that okay?"
"I am ready, dear! I'll watch for him."
I met Dan, the day before and we had gone over various projects to work on, together. I didn't expect him, his plans were to attend a BINGO orgy, that lasted until three in the morning.
He was teased by the others, who called him "The Grateful Dead" and "Jerry Garcia." I did see the resemblance.
I thanked the owners for finding help that looked a little bit more "far out man" than I do.
Dan had long grey hair that may have seen a comb, a week or so ago. He topped 300 pounds and proudly admitted it. His chest was like a keg(of nails).
Dan, I soon learned had never drank or even tried a drug, in his life.
"I don't know why they call me 'The Grateful Dead', I never really cared for them."
He said he had just gone to a Paul McCartney concert, though.
We got to the house, set up a ladder and were soon shredding the old shingles. I usually use a roof shovel but he insisted the only proper way, is with a "flat bar."
It was fine with me, I'd done that, also.
He soon ran off to Home Depot for some plywood and other material. I worked by myself until he returned and then we ripped off the remaining shingles, replaced some plywood and covered the exposed area with tar paper. His methods were very slow but I didn't mind, too much, it was Sunday, after all. One-half of one side was all we had accomplished in four hours.
He dropped me back at home and I kept his 16' extension ladder so I could start early in the morning. He said "You'll have to get someone to bring you over, with the ladder."
I said I though I may be able to carry it.
"I doubt it but do as you like!" he laughed.
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The next morning, I didn't wake until 7:30. I had slept wonderfully!
I was running later than I had hoped. I wanted to finish the two house roofs we agreed on, as soon as possible. I didn't want to accomplish this by cutting corners, I wanted to work longer, uninterrupted days, with hopes of seeing my son Jeffrey, before Christmas.
I had two quick coffees and a peanut butter and honey sandwich.
I skipped the shower as I would quickly be filthy, anyway.
The quickest way to the house, was to walk a quarter mile down the shoulder-less road, across lawns and then beside a long ditch that ran through a field.
The ladder didn't seem all that heavy, really.
While walking with it on my shoulder, over lawns and such, it occurred to me how suspicious I probably looked. People slowed and seemed to look at me, as they passed.....
I started walking faster, finally arriving at the ditch. Then I remembered this was the same ditch that thieves had carried the few thousand dollars worth of tools that they had stolen from my workplace. Including.....a ladder!
I made it to within a hundred feet of the house to be roofed and realized I had forgotten that there was another ditch, making a T with the one I walked beside.
"Oh, boy!"
I wasn't turning back, now.
Down the ditch and across, I went. My feet got quite wet and I slipped up the muddy side of the opposing bank. I made it!
"Cops won't cross that!" I thought.
On the ground, dead, I found what I thought was a weasel and I moved him off the trail, to bring home later.
I was soon on the roof and doing my strip-show, for none to see.
I had those shingles all ripped off in three hours, even without a shovel.
I returned home with the weasel, to use the bathroom. I left the weasel outside, beside the dumpster and returned to the job.
Robert showed up, towards the end and helped me, greatly.
We worked on laying out the tar paper and he took the old shingles back to my place and put them in the dumpster, with the loader.
Dan showed up around three........
We stripped the shingles off the porch. He said the new shingles wouldn't arrive until the morning.
We finished up, covered some material, loaded the van and he was going to drop me off at home, on his way out of town for another job.
As he pulled into the driveway, we noticed a small pickup, parked in front of the dumpster. It looked like someone was looking for scrap metal in it.
"STOP!" I yelled. "He's stealing a ladder!"
"What....." started Dan.
I was out of the van in a flash and Dan moved the van to block the driveway, better.
We had an 8' fiberglass stepladder on the back deck, to inspect the roof on Saturday. One of the men was tying it, into the back of the truck!
You can insert all kinds of swear words in the rest of this story, because they were all there but I'll keep it clean here.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?!!!"
The second man appeared out of nowhere.
They knew they were busted and both tried to lie at once.
"We thought it was junk!"
"It was in the dumpster!" said the other.
"WHAT? You're a LIAR! I'm so sick of you crack smoking THIEVES!"
The one man just started apologizing profusely, knowing the gig was up.
The other man was still trying the innocent routine as I stopped swearing and giving them the "Death Look", long enough to untie the ladder and place it on the lawn.
Dan stayed in the van and enjoyed the show, though I'm sure he was at the ready.
"WHAT ELSE IS IN YOUR TRUCK?!!!!"
"Nothing, I swear!" I searched the truck, in a rage as they stayed clear of me. They both looked petrified!
The truck was loaded with various metals and a dishwasher. Nothing was ours.
"IF I SEE YOU IN THAT DUMPSTER AGAIN, I WILL WRECK YOU!"
"You won't, I promise!" they said, not even able to look at me now.
"I take that back, DON'T EVEN LET ME CATCH YOU IN THIS YARD! DON'T EVEN SLOW DOWN, DRIVING BY!"
"We won't. Sorry."
"GO! NOW!"
They fumbled their way into the truck. and started it. I gave Dan the "thumbs up" and he moved his van, out of the way.
They left quickly.
I noticed the weasel on the ground, a few feet from where I had put it by the dumpster. The deer head I had laying near the back of the dumpster was still there, on the ground. I briefly thought that with my attire and look not to mention the dead animals, those poor boys probably thought they would never make it out of the driveway!
Dan hung around for a bit and we had a great laugh about it all. It was a cold day and I mentioned how warm and good I felt.
That wasn't the truth, though. I hated how I felt! I felt very wrong. I felt like the "old Jeff" that I had "given up."
I went inside, after Dan left. I was still shaking. I hated how good it 'seemed' to feel. I walked by the mirror and saw myself.
I looked insane.
I prayed and I laughed about it all. I felt better.
They were joking about it all day, at work today.
It was okay, though. I felt better. I was 'new' again.
love your storyies
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