One of the earliest memories I have of church was laying my head on my Grandma Osgood’s lap and she would scratch my ear with her white-gloved finger just to keep me settled down during the church service. Anytime she would fiddle with my ear, I would fall asleep. As I grew older you would still find my family and I well established in a church, but of course, no longer laying in Grandma’s lap!

My younger years placed me in a very traditional church in which the ministry still wore robes. Seeing a man in a robe always placed a different idea in my mind about these men. I failed to realize they were human like everybody else. I didn’t realize a pastor in a robe could have a life outside the church house. I don’t know where they went after church, but in my mind, I just thought the only thing they ever did was stay in the church.

I had no idea they really needed to eat and sleep, drive a car, laugh, play games and the like. I thought the only reason they came around once in a while to your home was to see if you were really living a good, clean life. In my child’s mind I did not realize they had a family. Even though I knew pastors’ kids, I always figured their home was super quiet with everything in very neat order and there was no hollering, cutting up or laughing out loud. I figured if I couldn’t do these things in church, surely the pastor would not allow these things in their own homes.

Of course, as I got older my understanding of their role began to mature and I soon realized these people had a life just like I did. I learned they could laugh, be happy or sad, they could show emotions, they could be joyful and they could also provide friendship to me.

I have become very good friends with a couple of pastors in my lifetime and each of them carries a very special place in my heart. Another thing I have learned is the ability to laugh with them about things in life that happen to us all. It is with this thought in mind that I am about to embark on a new series of stories. I am asking many of my friends in the ministry to show us the funny side of their lives. I am asking them to provide me with funny, true stories of their lives in the ministry. Some will be named and others will not. It will be the call of each person as to whether or not they want their name published. Below is the first of many more to come from a very, very close friend whose name shall remain unspoken.

Clifford

There was the grandmother who had the task of raising her granddaughter. The generation gap was always evident, but never so much as when the granddaughter got married, and after a couple of weeks of marriage, the grandmother made an appointment to see me. She nervously twisted a handkerchief in her hands, afraid that the news she was about to give me would shock me. She was afraid her new grandson-in-law was abusing her granddaughter. He would come in from work and take her behind closed doors and they would talk so quietly she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the evidence of abuse was showing up on her granddaughter’s neck.

Little bruises, about like a man’s fingers might make, were on the sides of her neck. She hated to be the one to report him. She was worried about her granddaughter’s safety, as well as how much her heart was going to break.

When I realized what was going on, I decided to explain to the grandmother what a “hickey” was. I thought I should be plain. So I explained how youngsters would put their lips on each other’s necks and suck real hard, causing a bruise. They called it a hickey, and it meant everything was fine.

She abruptly stood up and left my office. Someone told me later that she was thinking about going to another church because the pastor didn’t take her seriously and made up the silliest story to keep from having to deal with her granddaughter’s husband.

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