When the pastor’s
daughter was hit by a car and killed, the pastor and his wife were hit even
harder by her absence. His wife shut herself in the house, and the pastor found
himself unable to help other people in need.
I had a few lingering
problems with pastors, the same way I have problems with columnists and
politicians and coaches. I thought it very easy to say one thing and do
another. I had a deep suspicion of the power of positive thinking since my
incident with the wall; it was usually just the crust on the toast. But I had a
grudging respect for this pastor, who quit his job and took up long-distance
truck driving instead, and whose wife accompanied him on the trips down long
and straight highways. He had probably given comfort and advice to his flock
before when there was a death in the family, and probably drew from a good
stock of reassurances. And when it happened to him and his wife and nobody
could give them comfort, they saw they were human. Somehow, I could see the
same thing happening to me.
