Saturday, January 5, 2013

The 11th day of Christmas: An orchid was on the steps

I arrive at the church to find a giant orchid has been left on the steps. Glen tells me it’s still alive, needs trimmed, but is worth a couple of hundred dollars.  Wonders if someone left it for Teddy. When I bring it inside, I place it on a table that immediately collapses leaving me half bent over with the orchid box. Marc jumps into rescue me and takes the table to his workshop to repair. 
Earlier, Marc and I checked out the nurse’s room and found that most of out Sandy relief supplies were still there.  Lilly and her team had carefully out the way in the closet. I feel relieved. One less thing out of control.
I ask Chris for his help in preparing for a memorial service. And he does, sweeping all around and sets up the circle of chairs just like the people wanted. It’s clearly important to him to be able to help out. 
Glen and I continue to talk, covering many subjects. The loss of Teddy has struck him hard. And it’s always worse when there are unresolved issues. I shared with him the story of Father Dan Allen in Tulsa and Neighbor for Neighbor,whose guiding principle was unconditional affirmation for that person on their own terms, period. Mutuality leading to self respect and dignity preparing the way to self-sufficiency. ( ) Dan remains inside of me, a constant critic and conscience. NFN was the essence of faithful witness. It's not abut charity, it's about being neighbors. 
RL comes in and engages Glen in gentle banter. Notices his dog in a bag. I tell him we’re just about set from Teddy’s memorial service for February 17th. Coming into church on a Sunday is uncomfortable for RL which I enjoy.
Marc returns the repaired table.
I have to stick around to welcome the people for the memorial service. everyone else is out of town or not here. I greet them, try ad figure out how to get lighting that will be appropriate for them. I see there’s a picture of a young man which makes me wonder if there is a tragic story here. And if I should have asked. Been less a set up man, or a pastor. 
Just enough time to run home and train down to the village to see Noche’s performance. On the street outside Joes Pub, I get a call from Chirstopher. The memorial service is running long. He can’t make the performance because he feels responsible to stick around and lock things up, make sure everything is safe and squared away. Asks me to apologize to Martin and give him his best. Thank you, Christopher. 

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