secrets
Like the rest of us, and especially me, Freddy Buechner, as the Rev Dr Madison Currin used to call him, has put on considerable years since that portrait (scroll down) was taken. Matter of fact, he may have even more years on him than I do; and I also, when I picture myself, prefer to any selfie this morning, a picture the Navy snapped when I was training to be commissioned ensign that summer and fall of 1957. Age 21 and counting: it's as I am inside with all my own, as Buechner admits, secrets. And, like him, I too am my secrets.
Looks as if he's getting ready to tell not only his own, but secrets of his friends and loved ones as well. I'm not going there. In fact, for myself, I'm telling no secrets, neither mine nor yours. And, believe me, there's plenty about you to tell.
Sunday, my lifelong friend Robert shared a post that says "Learn to be okay with people not knowing your side of the story. You have nothing to prove". I'm going with that, especially remembering, attributed to Mark Twain, "Anyone who's never made an enemy ain't worth a damn", which I recall making one enemy when I was at Bay High, and I got the alphabet best of him in the one fistfight I ever had. It wasn't about a girl, in fact I don't remember why it was except we couldn't stand the sight of each other, as in "Hey! You know sump'm? You don't look right, you just don't look right to me. I'm gonna kick your axe". I messed him up, fought dirty, and he never fooled with me again, nor I him. I don't even remember his name, but we were in the Bay High band together those years.
Later, I don't recall ever making an enemy as a naval officer, so fine on that front. Maybe one AF jerk at a joint command, but not really. Later I did acquire an enemy or two. And I have become, people made me into, enemy as priest and pastor, which is so absolutely to be expected that it goes with the territory. In fact, one thing I learned from my priest mentor in Pennsylvania, and then sure enough on my own as rector, priest, pastor, is that if I did, for example, marital counseling for a couple, one of them almost inevitably ended up hating me (and therefore seeing me as enemy), and likely as not, both of them. Anyway, I gardenia sure don't need them knowing my secrets, so I'm keeping my mouth shut. At least for now, but don't cross me.
My secrets are known to one or two whom I've trusted with my life and vice versa, where there's no difference between knowing my secrets and being trusted with my life; because, as Buechner says, I am my secrets. Otherwise, you don't know me, and thank you for the song, Willie Nelson & Al.
This blog would have no purpose or virtue unless it goes somewhere, and where it's going is to realize that Advent is an apt Time to recall secrets that I'll carry to my grave, to rehearse them mentally before God next Time my priest and pastor says "Let us confess ... " and before he begins the Absolution and waving his hand in the sign of the Cross. It's Advent, and I have a lot to say on this subject. Maybe you do as well. Might as well get it all out there.
But don't call me for Confession.
"How am I keeping" these days? Thank you for asking. I'm retired 42 years as a naval officer and retired 21 years as a parish priest. Did this and that the first of the past two decades. Nowadays and for the past decade I'm on staff at HNEC as helper priest: no office hours, preach as helpful (about one Sunday in three or four), supply when the rector's away. Supply is our term that means I stand in for him, take his place when he's not here. I lead our adult Sunday school class, I help on Sundays and other times as needed or asked. That's pretty much it. No parish calls or other visits except as he needs and asks me. Never any counseling under any circumstances ever anymore, for the above discussed reason, having made enough enemies as it is. Anything else I do that is "priestly" is "my call" and not part of my HNEC responsibilities, like officiate a wedding, or supply elsewhere once in a while and increasingly less and less - - but supplying in other parishes means getting up early and driving, and sheer exhaustion by the time we get home, so I've learned to say No but thank you for thinking of me. My staff title is "Priest Associate", which is not assistant rector or associate rector but simply Helper as we mutually agreed ten years ago and as needed from time to time. Why am I telling this? Because it's no secret and I feel very much appreciated and I need to say Thank You once in a while.
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