11.04.05

Category: dribblings

on the first Thursday of every month there’s a group that meets at the vineyard church building called the Order of St. Luke. sometimes, if i’m able to get off work a bit early, i go to the meeting. it is very strange to me, not because of what they talk about so much, but more because i don’t really know most of the people and also the majority of the people are quite old. and it’s not like i’m all, “old people are lame!” you know i’m not about that. i love old people. i work with old people. i think they’re amazingly cool.

but these St. Luke’s old people are kinda different. i can’t explain it. it’s like they’re old school and yet, they run a healing ministry. they’re really open minded about that kind of thing, and most old people aren’t. well, most (all) old people at my church aren’t. another way they blow me away is that they all know so much scripture. they can all spout off complete verses and Bible stories that i’ve never even heard of. the people are so sweet and seem so wise and quietly gentle. when they pray, they just pray. they don’t get excited or shout or raise their voices, they just…speak.

months ago, when i first attended the meeting they wanted to know about my brother. i guess Mrs. Finlayson and Florrie had told them about my brother. and so they asked if they could pray for my brother. well. i mean. whoa. let’s hold on a minute. i don’t know these people, right? but i thought, well okay jaimie, why are you even at this meeting? i mean, would it be such a bad idea to let the HEALING MINISTRY people PRAY for your brother?
SCANDAL!
so i said that sure, they could pray for him.

then they asked ME to sit in a chair so they could pray for justin. what?! oh man. i know. and yes, they touched me. i guess, “laid hands on me” would be the more proper term. i’m not sure how it works where you pray for someone while laying hands on someone else, but i’ve seen it done before so it wasn’t completely foreign.

the next time i went they wanted to pray for justin again. and so i sat in the chair and they touched me and prayed again. this time (i missed the next two meetings ‘cos i was in anniston) they didn’t pray for justin but they all remembered me (well, not my name. in fact, when they prayed for me they kept calling ME justin and praying for my brother, jaimie. it was hard not to chuckle and be all, “aw, sweet old people, i love you.”) and they all asked how my brother was doing. and i was really glad they asked because i got to tell them that he was doing great.

i can’t remember where i was going with this. i think it was mainly to mention that it’s strange to me that i go to those meetings in the first place seeing as how none of my friends go to it (and i don’t mean that Florrie and Mrs. Finlayson aren’t my friends. they are my friends, i just mean that laura, liz, cookie etc. don’t go to these meetings.) and i definetly feel weird about it ‘cos i stand out like a sore thumb. the second thing is their quiet, simple authority that they exude. the third thing is i’m not even interested in joining the order. there is nothing in my heart saying, “yes! join the healing club! dedicate time to learning and reading their books and go out and heal people!” the only thing i hear is, “go listen to the old people. listen to their stories. appreciate them, they are my servants.”

what is with all the religion lately? i bet you wish it was Cat Blog or Dog Blog. or something light and fluffy. i know i do. here, i’ll tell you somthing funny so’s to lighten this thing up. remember in september i told you guys about the Chicken Thighs of Eternal Peril? and remember the part where dad was all, “what kind of pie did you make us?” and mom replied with, “fuck you.“? well. that has started a new thing around mom and dad’s house. Fuck You Pie. that’s what we call pie now, usually just the chocolate pie gets that moniker because that’s usually the pie that dad bugs mom with. see, he’ll say something like, “and mom made a chocolate pie for desert,” during dinner. when actually, mom hasn’t made a pie at all and we all know it. he just does it because he’s an ass and so are we ‘cos we laugh every time. but now, thanks to the Chicken Thigh Story, when you eat at mom and dad’s house you might hear things like, “hey, did you make a Fuck You Pie?” or “is there any Fuck You Pie left?” and even “i got your Fuck You Pie right here!”

dinner at my parents’ house is an amazing thing.

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