Thank You Very Sweet

I was home for one week before it was time to go to the Links Convention in Detroit. In the days leading up to the convention I sat in the park and allowed myself to live into my memories. I was so thankful that Courtney had re-introduced me to Horseshoe Lake. In the afternoons I went there, spread out a blanket in the grass, and cried. it was beautiful there and the wind and air soothed my open wounds.

Sitting alone on a blanket in the grass, I thought about our magical dates: 10 hours in Lambertville…    Dancing in Agabidi Park in the middle of the night… I was thankful that everything that Kesner had done was so memorable; he’d held me so tightly when we hugged for two hours in the park that I could still feel his embrace. I experienced joy and pain in the same moments, I smiled and laughed through my sobbing. Remembering. thanking him:

“Thank you Very Sweet, My Love. Thank you for our special romance, it was so sweet. so beautiful. Thank you Baby…”

But I had to pull it together. It was time to go to Detroit. The National Links Assembly was being held in Detroit, Michigan and my mom was running for National President of the organization. Mom, The Comforter, had been so present with me in my grief, dropping everything to come to New Jersey to be with me immediately. She had done so much, I could do this for her. I could package my grief, contain it, hold it in, and go the convention and support her. It was time.

We decided to drive.

…we had too much luggage to check on an airplane. Plus, Detroit is only three hours from Cleveland so it made sense. The drive was pleasant. We took The Comforter’s comfortable Lexus, and she drove while I rode. We listened to Satellite radio, talked on the phone some, and talked to each other. We relished the last few quiet moments that we had together before the week began. When we were 20 minutes away from the convention hotel, mom called the chair of the national protocol team to let her know she was in range, and from that point it was on.

The Detroit Renaissance Center

We pulled up at the Detroit Renessaince Center and mom was greeted by the beautiful sisters of the protocol committee. They immediately began to orchestrate the unpacking of the car and quickly ushered mom to her suite. The two bedroom suite on the 70th floor of the Detroit Renessaince center was the next comfortable place where I would stay. It was large and spacious, with floor to ceiling windows and panoramic views of the Detroit River and Windsor Canada.

There were fresh flowers, and a fruit and cheese platter. During the convention, this suite would become “home base.”

The committee worked dutifully to get mom’s things unpacked and closets organized for the week, there was so much excitement in the room. I might have felt overwhelmed except in the midst of the commotion was a familiar and friendly face: Monique.

Monique is my Link-Friend from the Gulf Coast Appollo Chapter in Houston Texas. She is a psychiatrist, a daughter, a wife, a mom and a really great person. I met Monique through my involvement in the Scott Hawkins Leadership Institute. Named for our Links Founders, Sarah Strickland Scott and Margaret Hawkins, The Scott Hawkins Institute is a program designed to prepare young Links for organizational leadership.

Links Founders, Sarah Strickland Scott and Margaret Hawkins

But Monique and I really got to know each other because of her work with my mom on the protocol team. Monique had been assigned to my mom at the Western Area Conference the year prior. Mom liked her a lot. She was savvy, smart and competent. They had synergy. Mom came home talking about this great young Link that she met, her new second daughter. I soon got to know Monique differently when we were in Atlanta for a governance meeting and she became my friend.

Monique is real and she is thoughtful. She has a wonderful sense of humor and she is the type of person that you can just sit and be still with; you don’t have to talk all of the time. She is also a great dresser, and always well adorned with beautiful shoes and accessories to match. She is a sharp young Link with a great smile, a great laugh, and a great Houston accent, and I’m excited whenever I get to see her.

Monique

Seeing Monique calmed any anxiety that I had. A friend was already there in the midst. LOVE had traveled with us to Detroit and I was going to be just fine. I began to adapt to the energy and excitement in the room; in just a few days we would be surrounded by some of the most dynamic Black women in the country. This was exciting. I began to feel the spirit.

I went into my bedroom and began to unpack my clothes. I pulled out beautiful dresses, one after the next. I hadn’t been involved in the packing of my clothes, but mom had done a great job. She’d selected my most beautiful things. I took a step back and looked at my beautiful things hanging in my closet and a feeling came over me: this is going to be a great week...

 We were at a Links Convention, after all.   Links Conventions are fabulous.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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On Easter Sunday I left Trenton in the wee hours of the morning to drive to Westchester New York. I had plans to spend the Holy Day with one of my Links chapter members, known fondly to me as Aunt Barbara.

Aunt Barbara had been wanting to introduce me to a young single pastor that graduated from Morehouse College. She’d been talking to me about him for months. “It will be perfect, you went to Spelman, he went to Morehouse, you’re both in the ministry…” We’d decided that I would come up for Easter and we’d visit his church.

The service was very nice and the sermon was memorable. He preached about Jesus’ empty tomb, using the catchy title: “I ain’t there no mo!” He basically said that when the women found Jesus’ empty tomb there were also all of the wrappings there that had been used to bind Jesus’ dead body. But early on that sunday morning, Jesus wasn’t there anymore. The bondage had been loosed.

He is not there…

And through faith, we can also be loosed from our bondage; Just like Jesus, we can tell others: “we ain’t there no mo!”

I liked the message.

After church, Aunt Barbara walked me to the front of the sanctuary to introduce me to the pastor. He was nice, but I wasn’t interested. No connection.

My attention was elsewhere.

It had been two days since our amazing ten hour Good Friday date and all I could think about was Kesner. I had also seen him again the following night at the annual Black Firefighter Ball in Trenton. Both of us had already been planning to go to the ball and he was there to campaign, so it wasn’t a date. He did come to meet me on the dance floor for a few moments, however. He looked so handsome. I was the only woman he danced with that night.

And now it was Easter Sunday and I wondered when I would get to see him again. I hoped it would be soon.

When we returned to Aunt Barbara’s after church, I decided to take an afternoon nap in her sun room. I’d been invited to stay for dinner and we had some time to spare. Mid nap, I received a call from Kesner.

“Would you like to come over for dinner?”

Kesner offered to cook. He said that he would boil some meat. Yes, boil.

While the thought of boiled meat sounded less than appetizing, the thought of more time with Kesner did not. I probably would have tried to figure out a way to get over there, but I was so far from home. I told him where I was and regretfully declined his invitation.

Easter Dinner in Westchester was lovely and I got on the Road at 7PM and headed back to Trenton. I called Kesner almost immediately in the car and we talked for my entire drive home on the New Jersey Turnpike.

But that wasn’t enough…

I was home for a little while when I admitted to myself that I really wanted to see him; my day didn’t feel complete. I called him and he was enthusiastic to meet.  It was 10PM and we decided to meet in a park in Trenton.

Agabidi Park.

Where did it come from and who was Agabidi? – we wondered. It is this randomly beautiful park in the middle of the Chambersburg section of Trenton. The park is a small open space in the middle of a four-way city intersection. It’s mostly concrete, with steel benches, and interesting sculptures, and short little trees that line the perimeter. And there are small green lights that light up the park at night.

Kesner had discovered this gem on his campaign trail and for him it represented possibility. He was running for East Ward Councilman and he was so excited that this park, which to him looked “…like it could be in Europe,” was in his ward.

We sat together on one of the steel benches and we talked more. I had already had a great day but I didn’t feel like I was truly breathing until I was with Kesner. We had that feeling. It didn’t matter what we were talking about, we were together again.

It was magic.

We talked mostly about his hope for Trenton and his vision for the east ward. I was so inspired by the sorts of things that made him feel so passionately about the city. He pointed to areas around the park where he imagined there could be cafes, and thriving businesses.

“I chose to be a home owner in Trenton and I want this city to be safe for my children and family…”

“As neighbors we need to communicate with each other, we need to bring people together…”

“I believe in Trenton, it is the state capital and all New Jersey residents should care about what happens here…”

These are the sorts of things he would say. I listened. Inspired. Visioning. Believing. Oh the possibilities. He could easily be the mayor of the city one day…

And I would stand by his side.

Suddenly Trenton began to open up to me in a totally new way. We could build a life here. Sitting there in the park, I believed also.

At some point I got cold and he gave me his denim jacket. And then we stood up and he gave me the warmest tightest hug I’d ever had. I was telling him about how sad I was that my soul friend, Jessie, was getting ready to leave town and move to upstate New York. He stood up and said “let me give you a hug for Jessie,” and he did.

And he didn’t let go.

We stood there, hugging, for several hours. If I had to guess, I’d say at least two. He was holding me as if we were slow dancing and he was squeezing me around my waist so tight that it almost hurt. He was so strong. I felt safe.

By this time it was past 1AM and we were standing and hugging in the middle of a park in Trenton.

And I felt safe.

“What would you do if someone suspicious approached us?” He asked.

“I’d follow your lead,” I said

“Good” he said.

He was a strong man in body and mind and I trusted him. In his arms, I could let go.

“You need a strong man, don’t you?”

“Yes I do,” I told him.

Standing there under the moon and stars, we began to slow dance to our own music. I sang to him in his ear and we rocked from side to side.

I sang worship songs.

“I’m coming back to the heart of worship and its all about you Jesus..”.

And “Because He Lives, I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone..”.

And I also sang: “The first time I looked into your eyes I cried, do you remember the first time we fell in love..”

It was sweet. And comfortable. And wonderful. “It’s so easy to be romantic with you because you have class,” he said.

After hours of slow dancing in the park, we decided to head back to our cars.  but we still didn’t want the night to be over. “Let’s go to a diner,” he said. We went around the corner to the Broad Street Diner, which is open 24 hours. Sitting across the table from one another, he gave me a second nickname.

“Your eyes are really brown. I’m going to call you Brown Eyes.“

And then he gave me a third nickname:

“PYT- Pretty Young Thang” -Kesner was only five years older than me, but the women he’d dated before me were typically 5-10 years older than him. PYT seemed appropriate.

We ordered eggs and bacon and scrapple and corn beef hash. I’d never tried scrapple before. We shared everything, picking at this and that. Kesner doused his eggs with ketchup. This would become our place.  Our diner.

By 4AM I really was tired. Time had flown by again, it seemed it was just 10PM. Had we really just spent six hours together in the middle of the night? Sharing, hugging, singing, eating, dreaming… dancing in a park?  In the middle of the night? We hugged and said goodbye. I was glad that it was Easter Monday and I had the day off from work. I could rest.

But would I see him tomorrow? I really hoped so. I didn’t want to spend too much time away from him.

I was in love.

Kesner’s Vision for Trenton.  My inspiration.  I would stand by his side…

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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Now I want to tell you about the ten-hour date that changed everything…

It was a week after the Kappa Jazz brunch and I had already started thinking about Kesner differently because I’d had that deep encounter with his mother at the table. And afterward we’d driven around the community listening to Miles Davis and talking about change.  

I think he knew that I had different energy for him, so he seized the opportunity.   The following week he took me on another date, to Lambertville NJ for a Lenten fish fry.

NJ is filled with cute little towns and Lambertiville is one of them. It sits right on the Delaware River and it’s quaint and lovely. It’s the sort of town that has volunteer fire fighters, and bed and breakfasts, and community fish fries every friday during Lent.

It was Good Friday, and both of us felt a little guilty that it was unseasonably warm and sunny. Maybe rain and dark clouds would have seemed more appropriate for the day that Jesus died; but nonetheless, he picked me up at 4PM.

He’d planned everything; I didn’t have to think. He told me we were going to a volunteer firehouse for a fish fry, so I was casual. I wore a cream blouse, dark blue skinny jeans and black ballerina slippers. I carried a beige cardigan. He wore khaki pants, a button down shirt and a casual spring jacket, dark brown.

I didn’t know what to expect. When we arrived at the firehouse my first thought was: ‘awkward’. It was an open space with rows of six foot long rectangular wood tables. We walked in and paid $10.00 at the door and were prompted to seat ourselves. I would have preferred privacy, but the set up was family style dining.  We would have to eat with other people, to interact.  

Kesner made me feel comfortable right away.  He initiated conversation with the folks at our table; he was good at that sort of thing. We soon learned that we were dining with a family steeped in the New Jersey fishing industry. They told us that their family business holds the world record in catching the particular kind of fish that they catch. And they also told us all about the deep tradition of Lenten Friday fish fries in Lambertville.

Kesner had introduced me to a new experience, I liked that. I was thankful. My appreciation for him continued to grow…

It was still sunny and warm after dinner so we decided to walk to an ice cream shop. On the way, we noticed a church with open doors. We figured we should go in for a moment ; it was Good Friday, after all. 

The sanctuary was open.

We walked in and sat in the front pew. An instrumental of “Just as I am Without one Plea” was playing. We sat together in silence and appreciated the song that we both knew so well.

In that moment I felt so much peace.

When the song was over we left and got ice cream cones, then found a large rock by the water and sat and talked. It was there that we first learned of our mutual appreciation for nature and beauty.

And on that rock, we talked about collaboration. We discussed planning a reception at a community art museum, we wanted to bring my sorority and his fraternity together for this. We discussed some particulars, and then he went on to dream about future collaborations. His ideas were laced with the inference that we would be together, a team.

A partnership.

The more we sat and talked, the notion of our togetherness began to settle into my spirit.

Comfortably.

After our cones, we decided to walk across the bridge to New Hope Pennsylvania. New Hope is another cute town that sits on the other side of the Delaware River; Just a simple five minute walk across the bridge from Lambertiville. That is the place where Talithea and I found the psychic months prior, the one who told me I would have two great loves.

There in New Hope, we went to a very eclectic looking restaurant and had a glass of wine on their out-door patio.

Day became evening, as we sat and talked there. He told me more about himself and I shared more of me. At one point he noticed a silver ring on my finger with a large amber stone in it. “So your engagement ring would have to be at least this size..,” he kidded. I blushed. Laughed awkwardly. Had he just brought up engagement?

A few more hours passed and it started to get cold. We left the patio and went to Dunkin Donuts for a cup of coffee. We then left New Hope and  began to walk back over the bridge. In the center of the bridge Kesner stopped me for a moment, to look out over the Delaware River. From where we stood, the river appeared dark and encompassing and you could hear and feel its movement. I think Kesner wanted to kiss me in that moment on the bridge; in fact I am certain of it now. It would have been our first kiss and that would have been a beautiful spot for it.

But I was too cold.

My cardigan and coffee weren’t enough to guard against the force of the cold river wind.

“I’m freezing, let’s keep walking,” I said.

It was warmer when we got to the other side. We sat on a bench and talked more. Neither of us wanted our time together to end, so we sat until we noticed that we were sitting above a wine cellar.

“Let’s have some more wine,”…

In the dimly lit wine cellar, we grew closer. We looked into each other’s eyes and allowed our fingers to dance with one another. I recited my favorite poem to him, Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou. And he gave me the first of many nicknames:

“I’m going to call you phenomenal woman, because you are phenomenal.”

And there, in the cellar, we shared our first kiss. I had just come back from using the ladies room. And before I could take my seat on the stool, he pulled me between his legs and held me tightly around my waiste and he kissed me.  passionately. 

perfectly.

“It’s so nice to put my arms around a woman who has some meat on her bones,” he said.

I felt desired. Wanted..

I stood there in his embrace for a few minutes longer until we received news that the cellar was closing.

Closing already? -we thought.

And then we checked the time, it was 2:00AM.

Where had the time gone?

Had we really just been on a date for ten hours and not even realized it? It was too short..

We walked back to the car, hand-in-hand, and he took me home. We would see each other the next day…

and the day after that..

and the day after that..

and almost every day until the day he died.

But of course I didn’t know he was dying then.

What I knew is that I was falling.

I was falling in love with my friend, Kesner Dufresne.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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Shortly after my outing with Courtney, I received an emotion-filled voicemail.  I could hardly make out what the caller was saying, she was literally crying into the phone. but I recognized the voice…

It was Tasha.

Tasha

This was a voice that I hadn’t heard in over two years, and it was a voice that I missed dearly. Could it be that the horrible tragedy of Kesner’s death had birthed a reconciliation between two old friends?

When Tasha and I ended our friendship two years prior, my soul told me that we weren’t completely finished. But how would we ever cross the bridge that had been burnt?  ‘Only God can do that,’ I’d resolved.  And God did, in God’s time. Hearing her tearful message lifted my spirit. My heart leaped in my chest.  The cold war had ended.

Tasha is a childhood friend. We grew up together as youth and young adults at Olivet Institutional Baptist Church.

Olivet

Back in the day at Olivet, there were four of us who were really close: Me, Tasha, Jocelyn and Carla. On Sunday mornings we would split from our parents and sit together in the back of the church; the very last pew on the far right side of the balcony was where we encountered Jesus from week-to-week. It is also where I made paper hats out of candy wrappers and placed them on the heads of unsuspecting strangers.  But aside from my small bouts of social deviance, we were mostly good.

Tasha, Me, Jocelyn

Jocelyn was the responsible one, Carla held down the steady high school relationship, Tasha had the incredible smile and infectious laugh, and I was the flighty one who couldn’t drive very well.   We went to different schools and were involved in different activities, but our faith tied us together. We were four Christian teenage girls and our faith was the foundation of our friendship.

After high school we all went off to different colleges. Jocelyn went to Washington University, Carla went to The University of Michigan, Tasha went to Northwestern University and I went to Spelman College. We were far apart but we always made a point to connect with each other during breaks – typically over a holiday brunch at Yours Truly.

Me, Tasha, Carla

And such would be the case -that we would live in different cities- as we progressed into adulthood.

That is until one fateful summer when the stars aligned to place Tasha and me in the same place at the same time.

Cleveland-Summer 2006

I imagine that my summer 2006 is much like what ‘they’ say about the summer of ’69. Simply Fabulous. I was home working as a Pastoral Intern at Olivet and Tasha was a Fellow with the Cleveland Foundation. From June-August, 2006 Cleveland was our oyster and Tasha and I had an absolute blast! We had never been adults in our home town and it was like seeing the city with new eyes. We went to the best events, discovered new neighborhoods, got caught up in random situations and laughed non stop, while cruising to T.I.’s “Big Things Poppin” in our matching Toyota Carollas. We had a wonderful friendship-summer and that season brought us very close.

Tasha and I have a kinetic vibe. Our energy bounces off of one another. We are excitable and we can laugh about almost anything.

And not only that, but I value Tasha’s wisdom, she is a wonderful counselor. She taught me the concept of healthy selfishness. She also taught me how to use “I” statements when in the midst of conflict. She is a treasure to me and at one point our friendship was tighter than a pair of skinny jeans.

But then we fell out.

Neither one of us can say exactly why, but we fell out in spring 2008 and it was bad. So bad that I refused to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. So bad that we didn’t speak for two years. It was bad and I didn’t know how it could ever be good again. God would have to do it.

and God did.

After hearing her tearful message, I called Tasha back immediately. There was so much to say, yet nothing to say at all. Neither one of us wanted to dwell  on those things that had wedged the divide. Rather we decided to dwell in the comfort of the love that was still there.  She said that she had been sitting in church when the announcement was made that my fiancé died. She said that the congregation gasped upon hearing the news, and that she had to leave the sanctuary and cry.

 “How could this have happened and I didn’t even know you were engaged”, she cried.

I corrected her. Apparently the church knew that Kesner was my boyfriend but they made the decision to announce that he was my fiancé. The rationale was that: “if we announce that Rev Kim’s ‘friend’ died, then people will be expecting us to make an announcement every time a friend or acquaintance dies.” According to some, calling him my fiancé added legitimacy to my loss.

…And it meant that I would have to spend the summer making corrections- “no, he was ‘JUST’ my boyfriend..”

I corrected Tasha and told her that I was not engaged, but I was very much in love. She understood that the loss was just as severe and she offered me her love and support. We ended the call with tentative plans.  “We’ll meet for coffee...”  We had finally reconciled and I would see my dear friend again. My heart was filled with joy and relief. Tasha and I would get together for coffee on the week after next…

We would get together after mom and I got back from the Links Convention.

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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This chapter was written in the library of Princeton Theological Seminary, which was all together fitting because Princeton is where my friendship with Reverend Courtney Clayton Jenkins reached new heights….

Courtney is another dear friend from Cleveland and, like Amanda, Court had been waiting for me to come home so that she could wrap her loving arms around me.  Courtney had been involved from the moment that Kesner died. My mom called Courtney immediately after she learned that I found Kesner; and within minutes Courtney was on the phone with Klay, Monet and Jessie, encouraging them to get to me quickly. She had also called several times during the ten day waiting period from death to funeral. And she was one of a few friends that said I could call her in the middle of the night if I couldn’t sleep or needed to talk – I would take her up on that offer later…

So I was finally home and I could see my friend face to face. She called me almost immediately after I arrived and she invited me to lunch. We didn’t go out to eat, rather she planned a picnic lunch at Horseshoe Lake. Horseshoe Lake is a peaceful nature reserve in the heart of Shaker Heights; its just minutes from my house, yet I hadn’t been there in years.

Horseshoe Lake

It was a beautiful day and Court had prepared an elaborate spread. I can’t remember everything that she pulled out of that picnic basket, but I do recall an unforgettable homemade black bean salsa and a really delicious sparkling pink lemonade.

Court brought a big blanket and we spread it out in the grass by the lake. The two of us sat there on the blanket surrounded by her gourmet spread, and we ate and talked. It was such a comfort to be with my friend on that beautiful day in the park. Courtney is a Pastor, and in that moment – just days after that funeral- she offered me the pastoral care that I so desperately needed.

Pastor Courtney Clayton Jenkins

To tell you about Courtney I have to go back…      to the womb.

Courtney often introduces me as her “friend from the womb”, which almost feels true because I can’t remember a time that I didn’t know her. We grew up together and first came to know each other through our mutual involvement in the Cleveland Chapter of Jack and Jill of America. My early impressions of Courtney remind me of the song: “anything you can do, I can do better…” I am laughing as I type this. but it always seemed this way.

Anything that I was good at, Courtney was better...

Case and point: at Jack and Jill Teen conferences Court and I were among the few children that would actually compete in the oratorical competitions. Without fail I would always come in third place, having performed some rendition of a Maya Angelou classic, and Courtney would always come in first place, having written and performed an original piece. And then one year I had the nerve to run for regional teen vice president at a Jack and Jill Teen Conference. I had pink posters, and glow in the dark tee-shirts and I gave out Hershey kisses with the simple slogan “Kisses from Kim.”

Kisses from Kim

It was cute, but it didn’t work out very well. On voting day, as I stood at the podium to deliver my passionate campaign speech before 600-or-so disinterested black children, I broke down in tears and could hardly get a word out. My tears were the result of the fact that I already knew that I would lose to a boy from Michigan who really blew the campaign out of the water. My tearful speech was my last stand in trying to garner the sympathy vote, which actually ended up working to some degree. After losing miserably in the vice presidential race, I was nominated from the floor (by this really nice boy from Toledo) for every other office. I didn’t win those either, but later I ended up being appointed regional parliamentarian. a small victory.

But not that Courtney. The following year Courtney ran for Mid Western regional teen vice president of Jack and Jill and she won by a landslide. And she subsequently ran for president the nextyear, and she won that also.

Courtney is a firecracker and we all knew it early on.

Court and I continued to live parallel lives, both ending up at Spelman College, though I can probably count on one hand the amount of times that we actually saw each other on campus. Yet and still it was always a comfort to know she was there in Atlanta with me; there is nothing like having a little bit of home close by. And that comfort of home followed us to Princeton Seminary. We ended up in Seminary together as well.

In seminary we began to interact more frequently and to learn each other differently. I was so thankful to be there with her. I was a sassy seminarian and there were some who didn’t understand me. But Courtney knew me, she knew my family and my sassy Mom; she could explain me to people.

Me and Courtney at Princeton Seminary Graduation

And there, in seminary, I had the privilege of watching her romance with her husband, Reverend Cory Jenkins, begin and grow.

By our senior year in seminary, Courtney and I became very close. By this time Cory and Courtney were engaged and we (Courtney and Me) were on a mission to get in shape for her wedding. We would go on 3 mile hikes down the Princeton canal path and talk about everything under the sun. On one of our walks she told me that after graduation she wanted to go home for a little while and be with her dad; his health was failing. I said to her “why don’t you call Reverend Moss and see if you can work at Olivet?” She called him right away. This was significant because our mutual involvement as ministers at Olivet linked us together in a very public way. She was Rev Courtney and I was Rev Kim, we were two young sisters in ministry who are friends. We weren’t competing, we were supporting each other, and our friendship became a ministry in itself.

Rev Kim (me), Rev Moss III, Rev Moss Jr, Rev Courtney, Rev Cory

After her season at Olivet, Courtney got married and I was privileged to stand with her at the alter and pray for her before she walked down the aisle. And several months later, when her father passed away, I was privileged to stand with her in the pulpit and minister by her side at her father’s funeral.

Courtney is my spiritual soul sister and we have both been through a lot. But I rejoice in our trials, our ministries are richer because of them. Courtney is my confidant and I seek her advice in matters of Pastoral care (usually involving others). But on that day in the park the care was for me…

As we continued our conversation on the picnic blanket by the lake, we laid down on our backs and looked at the open blue sky. I asked Courtney “Do you ever feel your father’s presence?” I was desperately looking for affirmation that these supernatural feelings of Kesner being ‘with me’ were not mere figments of imagination. She said “yes. I feel like I can call upon him any time that I need to, and he is right there with me.”

However, she went on to say: “but I try not to call upon him too often because I worry that it takes him away from the band of angels in Heaven.”

How selfless, I thought.

I wasn’t ready to let Kesner go be with the angels. I wanted him with me. maybe later, I thought. right now i need him close, after all it was the least that he could do since he did just up and die out of nowhere.

Even though I was feeling selfish, it did help to know that someone so thoughtful and sound in her ministry had affirmed the possibility of presence.

As we prepared to leave the park that day she said “oh by the way, I’ve been getting a lot of calls from members of Olivet. Apparently somebody made the announcement that your fiancé died..”

My fiancé? – I thought. Where on earth did they get that from?

Great, I thought. Now I’ll have to go around correcting people…

© Copyright Thank You Very Sweet, 2011

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