They begged me to stay.
Then they asked me to leave.
It left me hurt of course because it was unexpected, delivered by people I trusted ... some of whom I loved ... and occurred in the context of I'd already been abandoned and was suddenly single.
Luckily, I was in St. Martin when it all happened and surrounded by people who didn't know me professionally. They just knew me as me. They were a funny church ... Carlos and Verna who live in St. Martin cooked for me and had me babysit their daughter Chelsea to keep me preoccupied. Hania and Conner stood constant vigil over everything I did. The Kosters from Canada kept throwing parties as a distraction.
Aside from Verna, I don't know if any of them actually believe in God.
Yet they were church in the truest sense of the word. Acting as my support, community and caregivers they just loved me.
When Conner and Hania went back to Florida the Kosters stayed on until they had to return to Canada. My kids wanted to know when I was coming home. Carlos and Verna were begging to me stay. I could start all over there.
After a month in the Caribbean something ... was it God? ... moved me to return home. It was difficult to do but Jeremy picked me up at the airport, Goddess greeted me with love and the Carnival of Friends were born.
Then Sarah came home.
Though still as funny, they were a different kind of church. Still giving love, support, community, and holding vigil over me.
Then Dedra, Mark and Mitch were raised from the dead and came to my house. They brought laughter, music and memories back home. Dedra liked it so much, she stayed and refused to leave.
Then Sarah brought a different kind of love home. The Carnival of friends blessed this with baptism and wine (lots of wine). Hania and Conner inserted themselves again (though they never really left). The two churches co-mingled. Sarah went with me to St. Martin and Verna and Carlos served us supper in their little concrete apartment and announced their impending marriage.
And God looked down upon it and said, "It is good."
It is chilly in Savannah as I stroll into a breakfast meeting wearing flip flops and jeans my wife bought me. My hair is in a pony tail, my skin tanned and laughter dances around me eyes.
"Seriously Mike?" Peter asked, "Flip flops? Seriously?"
"You sound like Shirley Sessions," I told him pouring myself coffee.
"It's cold," he exclaimed.
"I dress like Steve Jobs did," I say. "And Conner."
He is silent as he looks me over and smiles.
And the funny church grew by one.
