confession is good for the soul, but it’s hell on the pride. which is probably the point. and when it comes to spiritual/supernatural things i am one of the biggest fools out there. i mean, no kidding, my idiocy is very wide and well deep. whatever bigness and deepness you’re picturing? make it bigger.



there! see? it’s huge.

and trust me, i don’t want to be dense. i don’t.
but, i am. and it’s so embarrassing. because i am so blessed, often, (i mean like, *often*, dig? a lot of “a lots”.) with supernatural things, mostly from God, i’d say. wouldn’t you, laura? liz?

and so here i must confess a really dumb thing i did. because it might be important to someone else, and also because maybe if i say it out loud i won’t screw it up next time? we’ll see.

several weeks ago at church there was a guest speaker. he was, let’s see, not really my cuppa tea. in fact, i’ve been referring to him as The TV Preacher. i’m not sure he’s an actual TV Preacher, but he was dressed as one, had hair like one, and spoke like one. he… he even testified. i think. my experience with TV Preachers is kinda limited.

so the TV Preacher was preaching his TV Preacher message and i was not impressed, but i was actually not pissed about it. which is huge. i mean, usually something like that would piss me off and i’d have negative thoughts about it all day, but the whole time i was all, “this is totally not for me. but maybe it’s for someone else? and that would be cool.” so really, i was sort of ambivalent the whole time. but i figured that maybe someone in the church needed to hear a TV Preacher speak so God brought in TV Preacher.

so that’s good, right? there’s growth and maturity in that.

but at the end of the preaching there was the altar callin’ part. which, obviously, whatever.
(i’m trying to tread lightly here.)

then there was this strange prayer part where he’d be all, “is there someone in here who has asthma? we’re healing asthma now!” and so, well, THIS IS OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE.

and so maybe i’m in panic-mode now? LIKE YOU WEREN’T? come on.

so i was sitting there thinking that if i hadn’t been on the worship team and didn’t have to take down my bass gear, I’D BE HOME BY NOW. but as it was, i was sitting there thinking, hoping, that everything would be cool. let the TV Preacher put on his show, something good would probably come of it. i know that it’s not all about me and my comfort zone; i’m not a total selfish asshole.

i am *often* a selfish asshole, but not always.

so i was cool. i sat there and watched and didn’t even have too many heebie-jeebies. and a lot of what he said i couldn’t understand because he had a really southern accent and talked all TV Preacher-y and would sometimes refer to himself in the third person, and jaime has a hard time following that sometimes.

i know, always with the joke cracking, am i.

plus, i was sitting next to liz. and she’s like a wall of calm. so i thought maybe i could blend in with her calm. so i’m there… blending… all camouflaged by liz. and this thing is going on forever. so i’m sitting there all, “Lord, please don’t let him call out my name. just… please? don’t let him say my name.”

and the TV Preacher says, “there’s someone here with a kidney infection. come up and get healed.” or somthing like that.

now, for weeks, WEEKS, my kidney has been bothering me. but i’m an idiot. do i go to the doc? no, of course not. why? because… i mean, it might not be my kidney. it’s probably my lower back. you know how tricky back pain is. plus, sciatica. i get that pain a lot, so it’s probably just that. and i’m not a big baby, no not me. so i don’t even tell anyone about my kidney pain. because it’s not my kidney. i am well good at denial.

“someone? anyone? kidney pain? come get healed.”

no one goes up. cos no one has kidney problems. and i mean, it’s not *my* kidney, how *could* it be my kidney? my kidneys are just fine, thank you. now, would someone who has an actual kidney problem get up there so we can end this thing? gah, someone take one for the team here. but i mean, not me, obviously. i’m not going up there. and i nearly turn to liz to say, “why don’t you go up there so we can get this over with?”

always with the joke cracking.

but i didn’t say that to liz because she was taking a drink of her coffee.

and right then. RIGHT THEN. the TV Preacher, getting no hits on the kindey, says, and i swear to God, who knows this because He was there, he says, “is there a painter here? some one who paints?”

liz nearly does a spit-take with her coffee.

i said, “shit.”

mr. finlayson turns around and looks at me as if to say, “dude, you’re up.”

because i can’t deny painting. i can’t say, “oh, he means an artist. so that’s not me.” because damn if i don’t have an art degree and damn if i didn’t major in PAINTING, of all the asinine things to get a degree in. and i can’t say, “oh, he means a house painter. some poor schmuck who has to paint houses for a living.” because half of everyone at the church knows i paint houses.

so shit. it pops in my head that if i just get up there it’ll go away faster, like ripping off a band-aid fast instead of slowly pulling it off, right? plus, i figure if i stay in my seat two things will happen:

1. everyone, all my pals, will call me a chicken shit. and

2. i’m certain the next thing out of that guy’s mouth will be something like, “is there a pickle here? pickle? anyone?”

and like, the one thing i asked God was to not call out my name. and so far he’s made good on that but even i know when not to press my luck with The Lord. so i get up and go to the front, which i’m sure took 3 seconds but my legs felt like i’d never walked before, so i’m sure i Frankensteined my way up there.

The Lord, who loves me, threw me a bone because Mr. B. was up there so i grabbed his arm and i think i said to him, “don’t leave me.” then the TV Preacher, who had been kinda normal in his TV Preacherness so far, which was nice i thought, he grabbed my head with both hands (which was not startling at all. ha. HA.) and then, THEN proceeded to speak in tongues. which he had not done all day for which i had been grateful, because i’ve never gotten used to hearing people speak in tongues. who gets used to that? really? who?

shut up, you.

so, there it is: me, in a headlock, TV Preacher speaking in tongues.

typical sunday afternoon with jaimie.


when it was over i went back to my seat and did not look at liz. after a few minutes she says to me she says, “did you notice how, this whole time, he didn’t speak in tongues until he got to you?”

“yeah. i noticed.”


all of that to say (i know, right? longwinded much?) it was just today that i notice my kidney has not bothered me since.

so on one hand, “Praise report!” and on the other, oblivious hand, i’m a total ass. i always thought i’d be like the one leper who came back to thank Jesus. surely i wouldn’t be one of those ungrateful um, como se dice?… previously… leperous schmos (o, knights who.. till recently said ni!) who never come back to thank Jesus for healing them. but apparently? yes. that’s me. total my bad.

so, in short, (ha.) Thank you Jesus, for being so good to me. You are amazing and I’m so glad you have more patience than I do. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Amen.

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