A Matter of Perspective

My first church was a rural one in a sort of small town.  It was a sweet community with wonderful folks.  Not too terribly long after I came on board, a young couple joined the church.  They had a little boy - can't remember his exact age, but he was under 1. 

There weren't a lot of kids in the church at that time, and the entire congregation took him to raise.  When he was about 3, he and his parents took a trip to see the grandparents.  The next Sunday, when his family walked in the door, he made a beeline for me, shouting "PASSER MOLLY!!!!" (Pastor Molly) at the top of his lungs.

I squatted down for my hug.  "I missed you, Jackson!"  I said.  "How was your visit?"

He took my face in his hands and said, with all the seriousness of a three year old: "I went to Nana's church, Passer Molly, and guess what!?!?!?"

"What?" I asked.

He drew a deep breath and said: "Her minister's a MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I assured him that I knew of several male ministers, and that they were all nice.

It's all relative, isn't it? Sometimes what we are used to isn't the norm, but until we venture out of our own small world, we don't know that, do we?

Bless his heart.  Wherever you are, Jackson, I hope life is good.