He hadn't planned on spilling all the beans; but then the time and place just seemed right . . . .
It was a few weeks later, nearly the spring of that year. The weather was getting a tad warmer in that part of Oklahoma, and Betty was getting rounder but still remaining very healthy
for her age; the doctor said the baby was healthy too. The church was doing well in numbers and finances, and Bob was getting back to his old routine of writing and delivering sermons. He needed less time to do that well, since he’d been doing it for over 20 years. All were excited at the birth of their baby, as expected in about six weeks. Bob was even assisting with an occasional Bible study at St. John’s, and with the money they were paying him he had asked to reduce his hours at the Big Ace Lumber Yard down to around 30 a week (though he usually ended up putting in more time than that at the beginning or end of each shift).
It was nearly lunch time one day when his cell phone buzzed. His caller i. d. indicated it was Richard Blarney, his district superintendent.
“Hey, Bud, this is sort of an emergency, and it’s close to lunch now –“ he called to his shift manager. Bud waved. “Take the call then, and go to lunch. I’ll see you in the lunch room in a bit!”
He punched the key to accept the call, and wondered why Bud wanted to join him, when he usually never did. Bob also wondered why he was hearing like this from Dick. He had been in touch with Dick, indeed through e-mail and other means since he had come to St. John’s, but seldom did Dick call him on his cell.
“Hi, Dick, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Bob, and you?”
“Read good, Sir. Good to hear from you.”
“And Betty? I hope she is doing well.”
It was a few weeks later, nearly the spring of that year. The weather was getting a tad warmer in that part of Oklahoma, and Betty was getting rounder but still remaining very healthy
 |
| He got a call from the d. s. while at work . . |
It was nearly lunch time one day when his cell phone buzzed. His caller i. d. indicated it was Richard Blarney, his district superintendent.
“Hey, Bud, this is sort of an emergency, and it’s close to lunch now –“ he called to his shift manager. Bud waved. “Take the call then, and go to lunch. I’ll see you in the lunch room in a bit!”
He punched the key to accept the call, and wondered why Bud wanted to join him, when he usually never did. Bob also wondered why he was hearing like this from Dick. He had been in touch with Dick, indeed through e-mail and other means since he had come to St. John’s, but seldom did Dick call him on his cell.
“Hi, Dick, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Bob, and you?”
“Read good, Sir. Good to hear from you.”
“And Betty? I hope she is doing well.”
 |
| His superintendent, Dick Blarney, was on the phone with important news. |
“She is. Everything seems to be on schedule so far for a June birth.
“I am so glad. You know, Bob, I don’t recall what your work schedule at the lumber store is. Is this a good time to talk?”
“I am at work, but this is actually a good time, since I am just now going on lunch break. What’s going on?”
“Well, I’ll cut to the chase, Bob. I told you I’d get back to you whenever I had a full time appointment for St. John’s. Well, I have one now. It’s a fellow named Albert “Al” Barton. You might know him. He’s coming off of a leave of absence, and is able to arrive there a few days before July 1. I just wanted you to be one of the first to know.”
Bob was quiet for a few seconds. He had gotten used to St. John’s. He had even in recent weeks seriously considered asking to stay on as the full time pastor; he knew he had the support of the church’s leaders. But he admitted to himself even now that he hadn’t taken any steps to do anything about it! He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Jim Bob or anyone else on the committee; nor had he called Dick about it. Now it was too late.
“Well, I really appreciate your letting me know. I do know Al, and I think he’ll do a fine job here.”
Now, it was Dick’s turn to pause a few seconds. He cleared his throat awkwardly before he spoke again. “Well, I want to thank you for the job you’ve done and been doing. You’ve been very good for St. John’s, and I think it’s been good for you too. I say that, Bob, just based on some comments I’ve heard from some of your members.”
“Well, that’s good. You know I didn’t want to do it much at first. But I’m glad I did. I think I learned a lot from God. And maybe a little about myself.”
“Good, Bob. Well, --“ and here Bob affected his voice that was all business. “Well, anyway, I
will send you the usual information on helping out with the transition. The usual stuff.”
“I’ll do everything I can to prepare the way for the new guy. You can count on me.”
“Thanks, Bob, and I knew I could. And since you haven’t been living in the parsonage, that should be in pretty good shape for Al and Jennifer, I suppose . . . .”
“Oh, yes, Dick. Certainly it is. In fact, the trustees here have done some things to repair and improve some things. It’ll be in great shape in time for the new family.” He knew that as soon as he said this, he was deciding for his family not to move into the parsonage after all. Bob also knew his year (barely that) at St. John’s would come to an end in a few short months. What then? Go back to a full 40 hours a week at Big Ace? Ask for another full time appointment? Go back to the pastorate full time – if the Bishop would have him, that is?” Lots of questions filled his mind. But the conversation with his busy D. S. was over.
“Well, Bob, keep that news under your hat, and I will be calling the chairman of the staff parish relations committee there this evening.”
“Okay, Dick. Mums the word, until she talks to me about it. And thanks for calling.”
Seconds later, upon grabbing up his lunch box, he sat down at the picnic table that stood in the middle of their lunch room. Bud was already there eating a sandwich, as Bob got his own food
out. “I didn’t mean to overhear that, Bob, but was that about your church stuff?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it. I think I told you, I’ve just been the interim preacher at St. John’s Methodist. So now they’re going to get a new, permanent pastor. That was my district superintendent with the news.”
“So is that good? Is that what you want?” asked Bud.
Bob was unwrapping his own sandwich. He took a bite, and stared down at the table top. “I really don’t know, to tell you the truth . . . .” He took a big bite. “I like it here. I like this work.”
“That’s good. But --?” offered Bud.
Bob looked up from his lunch box. Clearly there was more to Bud than met the eye. As a matter of fact his shift manager had, over time, noticed, or heard about, a lot more than Bob was aware of.
“You know I had to leave the pastorate. I got I into trouble a few years back. It finally all caught up with me. But I honestly did enjoy the work. I loved the people, and worship, and preparing. Even some of the committees – except for my being so damned impatient about them all. That got me into some trouble all by itself.” He swallowed his bite.
“But doing it again now, part time – this has reminded me of what I missed when I was doing it full time.”
“But you said you had to leave,” echoed Bud.
“Yeah, I did.” He took another big bite.
“How come?”
Bob stared at him the whole time he was chewing. Then swallowed and took a big draw on his iced tea jug. “What have you heard?”
“I am so glad. You know, Bob, I don’t recall what your work schedule at the lumber store is. Is this a good time to talk?”
“I am at work, but this is actually a good time, since I am just now going on lunch break. What’s going on?”
“Well, I’ll cut to the chase, Bob. I told you I’d get back to you whenever I had a full time appointment for St. John’s. Well, I have one now. It’s a fellow named Albert “Al” Barton. You might know him. He’s coming off of a leave of absence, and is able to arrive there a few days before July 1. I just wanted you to be one of the first to know.”
Bob was quiet for a few seconds. He had gotten used to St. John’s. He had even in recent weeks seriously considered asking to stay on as the full time pastor; he knew he had the support of the church’s leaders. But he admitted to himself even now that he hadn’t taken any steps to do anything about it! He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Jim Bob or anyone else on the committee; nor had he called Dick about it. Now it was too late.
“Well, I really appreciate your letting me know. I do know Al, and I think he’ll do a fine job here.”
Now, it was Dick’s turn to pause a few seconds. He cleared his throat awkwardly before he spoke again. “Well, I want to thank you for the job you’ve done and been doing. You’ve been very good for St. John’s, and I think it’s been good for you too. I say that, Bob, just based on some comments I’ve heard from some of your members.”
“Well, that’s good. You know I didn’t want to do it much at first. But I’m glad I did. I think I learned a lot from God. And maybe a little about myself.”
“Good, Bob. Well, --“ and here Bob affected his voice that was all business. “Well, anyway, I
 |
| He and Bud headed toward the lunch room, lunch boxes in hand . . . . |
“I’ll do everything I can to prepare the way for the new guy. You can count on me.”
“Thanks, Bob, and I knew I could. And since you haven’t been living in the parsonage, that should be in pretty good shape for Al and Jennifer, I suppose . . . .”
“Oh, yes, Dick. Certainly it is. In fact, the trustees here have done some things to repair and improve some things. It’ll be in great shape in time for the new family.” He knew that as soon as he said this, he was deciding for his family not to move into the parsonage after all. Bob also knew his year (barely that) at St. John’s would come to an end in a few short months. What then? Go back to a full 40 hours a week at Big Ace? Ask for another full time appointment? Go back to the pastorate full time – if the Bishop would have him, that is?” Lots of questions filled his mind. But the conversation with his busy D. S. was over.
“Well, Bob, keep that news under your hat, and I will be calling the chairman of the staff parish relations committee there this evening.”
“Okay, Dick. Mums the word, until she talks to me about it. And thanks for calling.”
Seconds later, upon grabbing up his lunch box, he sat down at the picnic table that stood in the middle of their lunch room. Bud was already there eating a sandwich, as Bob got his own food
 |
| Bud was listening eagerly while he ate . . . . |
“Yeah, it’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it. I think I told you, I’ve just been the interim preacher at St. John’s Methodist. So now they’re going to get a new, permanent pastor. That was my district superintendent with the news.”
“So is that good? Is that what you want?” asked Bud.
Bob was unwrapping his own sandwich. He took a bite, and stared down at the table top. “I really don’t know, to tell you the truth . . . .” He took a big bite. “I like it here. I like this work.”
“That’s good. But --?” offered Bud.
Bob looked up from his lunch box. Clearly there was more to Bud than met the eye. As a matter of fact his shift manager had, over time, noticed, or heard about, a lot more than Bob was aware of.
“You know I had to leave the pastorate. I got I into trouble a few years back. It finally all caught up with me. But I honestly did enjoy the work. I loved the people, and worship, and preparing. Even some of the committees – except for my being so damned impatient about them all. That got me into some trouble all by itself.” He swallowed his bite.
“But doing it again now, part time – this has reminded me of what I missed when I was doing it full time.”
“But you said you had to leave,” echoed Bud.
“Yeah, I did.” He took another big bite.
“How come?”
Bob stared at him the whole time he was chewing. Then swallowed and took a big draw on his iced tea jug. “What have you heard?”
 |
| He took a pull on his iced tea jug. Should he tell Bud his story or not? |
Bud gave out a low whistle. “Well, there’s the usual rumors about such things. They were circulating when you first got hired here.”
It was Bob’s turn to whistle. “Well, I believe your girl here in human resources here did some checking up on me. Which is fine, she should have done that. But then she found out some things she couldn't keep secret.”
It was Bob’s turn to whistle. “Well, I believe your girl here in human resources here did some checking up on me. Which is fine, she should have done that. But then she found out some things she couldn't keep secret.”
Bud swallowed his sandwich bite. "Well, whatever, they hired you because you know your stuff. And the big boss has a soft spot in his heart for preachers, I guess. That’s one thing I heard anyway.”
“Really? What else?”
Bud lowered his eyes and took a long slurp through a straw of a large jar of chocolate milk. “Something about getting in somebody else’s pants.”
“Really?” Bob heard himself repeating. He had tried hard to forget the incident of over three years ago, but it was all suddenly coming back to him so clearly now. “That’s sort of right . . . ,” he admitted, his voice trailing off.
“Really? What else?”
Bud lowered his eyes and took a long slurp through a straw of a large jar of chocolate milk. “Something about getting in somebody else’s pants.”
“Really?” Bob heard himself repeating. He had tried hard to forget the incident of over three years ago, but it was all suddenly coming back to him so clearly now. “That’s sort of right . . . ,” he admitted, his voice trailing off.
 |
| A gal in human resources had dug up some dirt on him . . . and had spread it around! |
Suddenly he had lost interest in eating.
“So what happened?” asked Bud.
Bob Rickards had never intended to tell anyone else the details of what happened with Angela, especially an acquaintance at work. He looked up at Bud and knew they were hardly more than that -- acquaintances; maybe casual friends at the most. But they had shared details about their personal lives the way you do sometimes even with casual friends. And he honestly did trust Bud Allen as a working partner – each had helped the other in dangerous situations back in the lumber warehouse. But for some reason he felt as if he could pour out the whole thing right then and there; as if he was supposed to do that very thing. So he did . . . .
LBC
“So what happened?” asked Bud.
Bob Rickards had never intended to tell anyone else the details of what happened with Angela, especially an acquaintance at work. He looked up at Bud and knew they were hardly more than that -- acquaintances; maybe casual friends at the most. But they had shared details about their personal lives the way you do sometimes even with casual friends. And he honestly did trust Bud Allen as a working partner – each had helped the other in dangerous situations back in the lumber warehouse. But for some reason he felt as if he could pour out the whole thing right then and there; as if he was supposed to do that very thing. So he did . . . .
LBC
