I have inherited another Bible.
At our 11am Sunday service, we have a basket with free bibles for people to take.
One Sunday after church a young woman, an awkward, occasional attender, brought up one of these Bibles and a pen.
“Can you sign my Bible for me?”, she asked.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Was this like an autograph situation? That would be kind of weird.
Would signing this Bible make it feel like I wrote it?
Still, this struggling parishioner wanted my name in her Bible, and so I opened the front page and wrote: Pastor Mitch Todd. Who knows? Maybe it will help her remember who her pastor was.
She thanked me and headed towards the door.
– – –
Somehow, In the twenty feet between where we were standing and the exit, she must have misplaced her new Bible. Because on Monday morning, guess what was in my office mailbox?
Somebody found the book, had looked inside for a name, and there was mine.
I couldn’t think of anything to do except to keep it.
That was several weeks ago, and I haven’t seen the young woman again.
I already have a good 15 Bibles. I didn’t think I needed another one, but apparently I do.
– – –
This Bible is sitting on my desk right now. I decided to consider it a gift from a parishioner.
I pray for her when I hold it. She’s had a very difficult life.
I flip open the front page, and right beneath my name, I write hers.
There. This book belongs to both of us now.
It’s here whenever she needs it.
Have a great week,
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