Doing Something - For God
Stories
LECTIONARY TALES FOR THE PULPIT
Series III, Cycle A
"Honey, I want to do something for God. What should I do?"
Bobby rubbed his eyes. It was 2:30 in the morning, and he had been sleeping soundly. Had been. He looked at Rosie to make sure she was really awake. He wanted to see if maybe after thirteen years of marriage she had taken up sleep--talking. Rosie was staring at him with her enormous brown eyes, holding her breath. "Well?" she said. Bobby looked at her again. She was fully awake; he sat up.
"What do you mean, sweetie? Like what?"
"Yea, like what could I do for God? I want to do something meaningful in my life." She looked in earnest at her beloved husband. She was dead serious.
Bobby stifled a yawn. He didn't want to be rude, and Rosie's tone sounded serious. He shifted to turn toward her.
"Well, like what? You sing in the choir. You usher, help with communion, and teach the high schoolers. Your banners hanging up by the altar are really pretty, sweetie. And what about all those casseroles that you always make for the new moms? Is that what you were thinking of?"
Rosie smiled. "No. I want to do something for God. You know. Something meaningful. Something important."
"Oh." Bobby didn't really know what to say. "What about our kids? They are great kids, even if I do say so myself. They're good at school. They love their sports and instruments. They have nice friends. That's something very special to me."
Rosie's eyes rolled upward in exasperation. "No, that's just because you're their father. I want to do something for God. God. You know."
Bobby was stumped. What could she mean? He fought back a yawn. "Well, sweetie peetie, I'm not sure I know what you're thinking about. You have nice friends yourself. You always keep the house so tidy, and I love it when our friends come over. I'm always so proud of you. That's important."
"No, that's for you, for them, for my own feeling," Rosie said. She sighed. "I want to do something meaningful. Something important."
"Well, I don't know. Your work at the shelter is appreciated. And what about the layettes you help put together for the hospital? And people love your little blankets you sew up for the AIDS ward. That's important. Is that what you mean?"
Rosie looked at Bobby and began to yawn. "No, honey. I was thinking that's all for people. I want to do something important. Something for God. But what can it be? What should I do?"
Bobby was so tired his eyes almost crossed. He took his wife in his arms. "Sweetie, we'll have to think about it and ask God to help us think. In the meantime, why don't you just be yourself until you get an answer?"
He held her tight and she relaxed. He looked down at her. She was sleeping peacefully.
Bobby rubbed his eyes. It was 2:30 in the morning, and he had been sleeping soundly. Had been. He looked at Rosie to make sure she was really awake. He wanted to see if maybe after thirteen years of marriage she had taken up sleep--talking. Rosie was staring at him with her enormous brown eyes, holding her breath. "Well?" she said. Bobby looked at her again. She was fully awake; he sat up.
"What do you mean, sweetie? Like what?"
"Yea, like what could I do for God? I want to do something meaningful in my life." She looked in earnest at her beloved husband. She was dead serious.
Bobby stifled a yawn. He didn't want to be rude, and Rosie's tone sounded serious. He shifted to turn toward her.
"Well, like what? You sing in the choir. You usher, help with communion, and teach the high schoolers. Your banners hanging up by the altar are really pretty, sweetie. And what about all those casseroles that you always make for the new moms? Is that what you were thinking of?"
Rosie smiled. "No. I want to do something for God. You know. Something meaningful. Something important."
"Oh." Bobby didn't really know what to say. "What about our kids? They are great kids, even if I do say so myself. They're good at school. They love their sports and instruments. They have nice friends. That's something very special to me."
Rosie's eyes rolled upward in exasperation. "No, that's just because you're their father. I want to do something for God. God. You know."
Bobby was stumped. What could she mean? He fought back a yawn. "Well, sweetie peetie, I'm not sure I know what you're thinking about. You have nice friends yourself. You always keep the house so tidy, and I love it when our friends come over. I'm always so proud of you. That's important."
"No, that's for you, for them, for my own feeling," Rosie said. She sighed. "I want to do something meaningful. Something important."
"Well, I don't know. Your work at the shelter is appreciated. And what about the layettes you help put together for the hospital? And people love your little blankets you sew up for the AIDS ward. That's important. Is that what you mean?"
Rosie looked at Bobby and began to yawn. "No, honey. I was thinking that's all for people. I want to do something important. Something for God. But what can it be? What should I do?"
Bobby was so tired his eyes almost crossed. He took his wife in his arms. "Sweetie, we'll have to think about it and ask God to help us think. In the meantime, why don't you just be yourself until you get an answer?"
He held her tight and she relaxed. He looked down at her. She was sleeping peacefully.
