Dublin: Tests of Patience, Part 1

I sat in the pew of the church. My
body was telling me nothing would satisfy it except lying back down
in bed. I’d been feeling sick for a few days: headache, sore throat,
sore shoulders, sore back, sore hips, sore everything. Taking down
camp the day before didn’t help, a full day of cleaning and labor as
my head and shoulders cursed at me.

I needed a break. I needed to get away
from people, away from ministry, away from everything. Rest!!! Come
to me! My body and soul cried out. But instead I had to sit and pay
attention to a church service.

I did my duty. I sat up straight. I
straightened and stretched my back so I would feel less sore. I
tried to pay attention to the sermon. I couldn’t sing so I said some
of the words instead. I tried to get into it. I’m not sure I was.
In fact, I fell asleep at a few spots, and once, long enough to
dream. I don’t know what happened in most of my dream, but at the
end I saw Tamica and I think asked her to pray for me. She laughed
and said yes. I’m not sure why I wanted her to pray, but when I woke
up I wondered if I should ask her.

After church, we got lost, Stacy and I,
and our 15 minute walk turned into 45. We got to the Mission, our
“home” in Dublin, and grabbed our stuff to go to find some free
WiFi. Only the thought of coffee (and it’s prickly, intoxicating
effect on my nerves) and some “alone time” motivated my achy
limbs to keep going and not collapse into a steaming heap of Joe.