Dearest Rachel –
The funny thing is, I don’t really think I have that much to say to him; at least, no more than at any other time since we last got together for lunch like this. I feel like I have to come up with something, because I don’t see him believing that, especially since I asked to get together again after what seems like so long.
I probably ought to back up a little at this point; if nothing else, I haven’t identified who ‘he’ is. Shortly after your accident, I was invited to lunch with Pastor Scott, where he offered advice and counsel, as well as the opportunity to continue meeting with him like this on a regular basis. Somewhere along the way, this tapered off – possibly once I started walking with Lars, maybe earlier than that – and while we didn’t exactly lose touch, our contact diminished dramatically. For all I know, I might have told you about these meetings in my letters, but I make no guarantees. This isn’t a proper diary, honey, not everything I do or feel gets recorded in my letters to you, no matter how hard I might try – and when they aren’t, they tend to get forgotten about.
Much more recently, as the production and worship team were together in the upstairs office serving as a makeshift green room (there is an actual green room back behind the stage, as you might remember, but there was a more elaborate spread of breakfast this particular morning, and there wasn’t sufficient space for it to be laid out). Scott was there, as he was speaking, and at some point we got to talking. He asked about how I’d been doing and what I’d been planning for myself (I’m pretty sure this was before Daniel and I headed out to Japan). He mentioned that we hadn’t gotten together in a while, and that we should do so at some point in the future. It was the sort of conversational gambit that, under most circumstances, you don’t take all that seriously; the sort of parting well-wish you make after meeting an old friend you haven’t seen in ages: “We must do this again some time.” You don’t really mean it, but you say it out of politeness – although deep down, one or the other of you really does wish it were possible to do so.
Coming from Pastor Scott, however – and the fact that neither of us really had any impediments to doing so, as he’s tapering back on his workload as he grooms his son and a series of other, younger staff to take on most of the duties involved in the overall ministry, while I… well, you know my situation – this seemed like a reasonable approximation of an actual invitation, rather than just a stock pleasantry. Granted, his suggestion that I “pop by the office sometime, and we can go out” was ridiculous on its face – real life requires more foresight and planning than that wacky sitcom neighbor who just bursts through your apartment door, demanding your attention right there and then – but I found myself considering the possibility. There are a few things I really do want to ask him about…
***
The problem is, he’ll be expecting that. Just like my issues with approaching women (particularly at church), the very fact that I’m coming to talk with him about… whatever… has to get his suspicions up. Why now? What’s going on in his head? And to be honest, there’s nothing particularly special about the timing; it’s just been a while. In fact, I’ve tried to promise myself (and him) that I wasn’t about to do a ‘trauma dump’ on him, wherein I relate all the problems and questions in my life.
And I do still have them, no fear. Some of them I haven’t even told you about; not because I would keep secrets from you (certainly not in real life – although, if you were still here, there are a good number of them that I wouldn’t have in the first place), but because there are others reading over our shoulders, and I have to watch my step. But it isn’t as if they’ve just recently come to a head, and I need some form of spiritual counsel to address them right this very moment.
I just don’t know if he’ll see it that way, however. As much as it was an open invitation, and a genuine one at that, my very act of taking up his offer suggests that there’s a motivation behind doing so. And I can’t help but wonder if he’ll suspect something behind the request that’s more urgent, less free-floating than it really is.
Then again, maybe I’m overthinking this, like I usually do. Sometimes lunch can be just lunch; there doesn’t always have to be a question of motives. But if I can see the possibility of the other person interpreting it that way, there’s a good chance they might be able to make such an interpretation of my request. After all, I do still have so many things I want to ask and talk about; when else will I get the opportunity?
So with all this in mind, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 