Pastor bob knocks at the door

Pastor Bob Knocks at the Door

“Ask, and it will be given you;

Knock, and the door will be opened for you.”

                                                                                                —Matthew 7:7

When I heard the knock

I set down the book I reading to my grandson,

and went to the door. “John,” I called to my husband.

“It’s Pastor Bob.”

We had only been back in town a few days

and church was cancelled on account of snow.

We missed our friend.

Before there were even words,

something in his eyes—some agitation—

confirmed what we had heard:

the doctors said there was nothing left to do for her.

“I wanted to give you this book,” he said,

passing me ‘The Tao of Inner Peace.’

“We’ll be starting it on Tuesday morning.”

He answered our questions:

she is home; the ultrasound

showed blockage;

no, he didn’t want to take home

some turkey soup I just made.

Then he looks—all at once —like he wants

us hug him and bring him in

and like he wants us to please, leave him alone.

If only there was something

to do with his hands,

now that he wasn’t holding

a book, he might survive

this moment when he brought us something—

but when he also

maybe needed something.

What might we have given him?

I did say, “Peace…peace,” slowly, emphatically,

as he stepped back to the snowy dooryard.

“Yes,” he replied quietly

as if something deep in me

had greeted something deep in him.

Then he went to his truck.

I wonder though:

what did he see as my husband and I stood at the door?

Did he see us as a couple

taking for absolute

granted

all this health? All this extra time?

Or did he see this other man who survived

his first wife’s cancer: her diagnosis, illness,

five years of treatments, and those last two weeks

(that always bring tears when he speaks to me of them)?

Does our friend need to see a husband who knows what he knows?

Was there a question hanging in the cold air between them?

Was there an answer?

 We don’t have answers.

 Kate Young Wilder