Anything for a smile

My Pastor must have an incredible memory. I told him my name exactly one time, in passing, and he has never forgotten. Whenever I see him, he hugs me and calls me by all five letters of my name. I feel seen; I feel important; and what's more, I feel loved. Pastor, mimicking Christ and His father, possesses and expresses a love that is godly and pure and readily available to anyone he meets. I believe that even if an acquaintance of Pastor Kerwin's was subpoenaed as a Character Witness, he would give (at the very least) the same testimony.

I say all that to say: today PK (Pastor Kerwin) privileged me with seeing yet another example of itsy bitsy love.

Church has gotten out. People are mingling, talking, hugging. Children chase each other on the grass and get too near the concrete for parental comfort. Women keep a close watch on those children, whether they belong to them or not. We send laughs into the air that sound like songs. Some people sing literally. The teens have let their guards down, pushed away their bangs and lifted up the brims of their hats long enough for us to see their faces. Men are packing things up, holding doors open, heartily slapping one another on the back. There is love all around, and it's for free.

I'm wearing a dress among a sea of jeans because that's just how I roll. I am hungry and my knees are freezing in the air of a randomly cold Pasadena day. But my heart is warmed when I see my Pastor make an absolute fool for himself in the name of a smile.

I see him jumping around and I hear the laughter before I understand what's going on. As I walk closer, I notice Pastor Kerwin is doing a Bojangles-esque jig and has even created an accompanying song. One might presume that this man of God, dressed smartly in a suit, should be a bit more...conservative in decorum. But true love, especially as demonstrated within and through the church, has little room for pious presumption. A goofy grin is plastered on his face and he seems completely unaware that he is embarrassing both himself and the Black race in broad daylight. Before I have time to be properly offended or ashamed, I notice his audience. Pastor is dancing, spinning, singing, goofing, miming and actin' a fool for the viewing pleasure of little baby Grace- stone faced in her mother's arms. The 8 month old is attentive and interested, but not yet amused. So Pastor continues to dance. And he dances until little Grace sneezes and finally cracks a smile.

I guess sometimes love looks just like a jig in broad daylight.