Alo's POV:
The euphoria hadn't dissipated after delivering another sermon, he felt at peace. He prayed that he was able to articulate the message clearly and that he was able to touch a few hearts. Greeting parishioners and catching up briefly he mingled with his fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. He was genuinely happy to see several familiar faces and a few new ones. He greeted each one with a smile and listened as they commented on the lesson or submitted prayer requests. This part was easy.
Talking to them was always easy. It was a part of the job that he actually enjoyed. Well it was a calling and not a job. He wasn't in it for the money, the fame, or the admiration. He did this to serve God, guide other people to him, and strengthen the faith of other believers. He wasn't perfect because the simple truth was that he was a man. In his weaker moments there were times when he questioned his own faith but then he remembered that it wasn't about him but about the man up above. He never fails. Never.
Smiling, he tried his best to focus while sister Bertha Cook prattled. She complained relentlessly about her son. Apparently, Bobby Jr. was recently incarcerated for the third time and his 'no good' baby mama refused to let her see her grandchildren. Abruptly changing subjects she ranted about her gout and the unpredictable weather. She smiled up at him, her top gums shinning, and two crooked pointy canines exposed. She resembled a geriatric vampire. She was sweet but she was also a complainer.
He appreciated her openness because it was genuine. He had an inkling that despite most parishioners friendly demeanor a few of them still doubted his abilities. Change is hard. He understood but it was important for him to form a connection with his fellow worshipers. He needed them to know that he was a friend, that he cared, and that he was trustworthy. He genuinely liked Mrs. Cook because she was kind and usually had interesting stories to tell but at the moment his mind was elsewhere.
Glancing up from the little lady as she reached a beige withered hand into a rather large leather purse. His eyes searched the room for the woman that he saw earlier. He felt as if he needed to meet her. There was a pull and his stomach fluttered. That feeling never failed him. He didn't know why but he felt that she was in trouble and she would need his help.
"Pastor Clearwater, these are my grand-babies. I was wondering if you could talk to their hussy of a mama and maybe persuade her to let me have my babies. She only had them for the check anyway..." She continued to bad mouth the poor young mother but he remained silent. He didn't know if he appeared to be unfeeling or distant. At that moment he didn't feel the least bit of sadness for Sister Cook. If she truly loved her grans then she wouldn't besmirch their mama's name. He glanced at the picture and saw three beautiful copper children.
Two boys and an infant girl. They were posing for the camera. Wearing matching outfits of red and black. The little girl had a cute bow nestled in her curly hair. The boys were almost identical accept for their eyes. They wore red button up shirts and black pants. Their innocent smiles radiated off of the photo. They didn't look as if they were neglected or mistreated in any way. Then again who was he to pass judgment? Judgment is the Lords and no one else's.
Handing her back the photo he smiled. "You're blessed to have three beautiful grandchildren. I will keep them and you in my prayers." His answer didn't seem to placate the woman but he felt at peace. Walking away from her he did not commit to meeting the kids' mother. It was not his place. Navigating his way through the crowd of people he continued to search in vain for his mystery woman. Until he saw her standing beside the last pew putting on her jacket.
His eyes assessed her from head to toe and he knew that his assessment of her was true. Beyond her beautiful he could sense an urgent need for guidance. The man in him was interested but the preacher in him was struggling. As if feeling his gaze she looked up. Her doe like eyes captivated him. There was a vulnerability to her but also a silent strength. She faced him with a regal bearing.
Feeling a slight pressure on his shoulder he turned reluctantly. Finding himself staring into the smiling face of another woman. Her eyes raked his body and he felt exposed. Jesus, give me patience like Job. He was used to the looks but it was still unsettling.
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