I got an email from my pastor today. He was telling me that he was disappointed that he did not see me at church on Sunday. I haven’t been there in three weeks.
You should know that my pastor is not one to say something like, “I was hoping to see you,” as a passive aggressive way of saying, “You really should have been there, and you should feel guilty about the fact that you weren’t.” If he said he missed me, he missed me. He’s a genuine guy.
That’s what made his email bittersweet. It’s nice to know I was missed. It sucks because I have no good reason for not having been there. My wife was out of town and I had become something of a hermit this weekend. I just stayed in the apartment all weekend. All weekend. I closed myself off from the world, even the parts of it I should be embracing.
I guess everyone does something like that every once in a while, something selfish and silly, something that reminds you that others are counting on you, which is good and bad, because it’s nice to know they want you around and real, because you know you are responsible to them. They get to hold you accountable because they care about you. It’s a package deal.
So I screwed up. My pastor noticed, let me know he was disappointed and let me know he still likes me.
I’ll be at church this coming Sunday.
