The Last Pew
He had a coffee in front of him. He took a sip. Cream no sugar. The waitress smiled. She knew his preference like a well-read book.
"I saw you at church, again, last Sunday," he said, before adding, "And I'll have the usual."
"Instead of three eggs over easy, I could have the cook make you a western with the leftover meatloaf. It's only a buck more, and I know you like the meatloaf."
"Sounds good" he replied. "With home fries and a couple biscuits."
She gave him a broad smile before turning toward the kitchen and calling the order in to the rounded bald guy at the grill. Sizzling bacon and the aroma of coffee filled the senses. The bacon was for a customer back in one of the booths, to accompany a trio of fried eggs.
The waitress turned back with a fresh pot of coffee and topped off his mug.
"Does four weeks in a row make me some sort of a holy roller?" she asked.
"You could have come and sat with me. You looked lonely back in the corner."
"I feel," she began, and paused for a moment. "I feel like maybe that is where I should stay for now. I'm still not sure I belong there... in the church. So staying in the back seems appropriate."
"I wouldn't have suggested you going, if I didn't think you belonged."
"You know me," she replied. "You know about the depravity of my past. Why would you think I belong under that roof?"
"Because God loves you. He knows everything... and He loves you. I know that sometimes it's hard for us to grasp that. We think that our souls are so deeply stained by our iniquities and mistakes. We need to forgive ourselves for every stumble we make... simply because he forgives us."
She didn't immediately respond. She glanced around the diner, ensuring that the one other customer, in the booth, didn't need her. "You've told me all that," she spoke softly. "It’s just hard to fathom. I feel that some of them know me… like I wear my sins as an armband, and they would rather cast me out to the street, than allow me to pray in their company.”
“He died for every single one of them, in the same way that he died for you."
She gave an unconvincing nod of her head. A bell behind her rang. His omelet was ready. She retrieved the plate and set it in front of him and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
"That happened to me as well," he said, "when I came to understand about beams of wood, nails and thorns. Please come again next Sunday, even if you feel the need to sit in the back corner."
She gave a barely noticeable nod of her head as he took his first bite of his omelet.
~
He waited in the rear of the church as the Sunday morning crowd entered. She didn't see him when she stepped through the doors. She looked like a flower about to wilt. She looked down at her slowly moving feet, afraid to meet the faces of any accusers. She slipped into the pew in the far corner and tried to hide in the shadows against the cold wall.
He slipped into the same pew, moved next to her.
She looked at him, gave a little sigh and said, "You don't have to do this."
"I know," he replied. "Maybe that's why I'm here. I don't have to be. Except, I consider you my friend and I pray for you, often."
Her lips curled slightly. Maybe it was a smile. For her, this whole thing with church had been a struggle. Accepting that Jesus could really forgive our most vile choices was even more difficult.
Hymns were sung, readings were read, and the priest shared insight on the gospel of Simon the Pharisee and the woman who washed Jesus' feet with her tears.
Moisture formed around the eyes of the young waitress sought surrender. A stream ran down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe the moisture away.
Uncertain what to do, he sat, slowly placing a hand near hers on the seat of the pew, offering his closeness if she wanted to take it, and wondering, hoping that she'd reach out a finger and touch his.
~
They were at a restaurant, not the one where she worked and he ate breakfast. This one was different, slightly more upscaled. They had coffee in front of them. They'd placed their orders for a late breakfast.
"Maybe I should get a job here," she said. "It seems busy after church lets out."
"I don't eat here as often," he commented.
Without responding she took a long sip of her coffee and focused on the young man across from her. "I never thought about it that way," she said at random.
"We still talking about working here, or something else?" he asked.
She shook her head. "The sermon... or homily, how one person has much to ask forgiveness for, and another has little. Who will love deeper, and as the priest said, who needs to come to Jesus more. I've been thinking about that. If, as you say, we are all forgiven, aren't there degrees of his forgiveness. I have darker stains on my soul than some child who disobeyed a parent, or squabbled with a classmate. Yet the more sin I have embraced, the deeper my love should be. I'm not sure I understand all that."
He took a moment to respond, then said, "All you need to understand is that he came into this world for you and for me. It doesn't matter where we've strayed. He knows, and he still loves us. He loves the woman who shed tears on his feet. He loves Simon, the host, as well. Maybe what he is saying in the gospel is that sometimes, some need to see the depths before they can see his love, and some, who think they are righteous, and would look down their nose at someone in need of his love is farther from his embrace."
"I guess," she said, still with some doubt.
"There is goodness in you," he continued. "I saw it when I first met you..."
"In high school," she interrupted. "I wanted simply to be accepted by the crowd."
"You were a freshman," he said. "You were new in town. It was difficult to make friends with a bunch of kids who had grown up together."
"And you were the jock," she added. "Everyone knew you."
"I couldn't help but notice you."
"That was eight years ago. I was already a mess. There wasn't much to notice."
He reached across the table and touched the tips of her fingers. She hadn't made the move when they were in the church pew and tears were running down her cheeks. Maybe he needed to make the gesture, soften her heart, so she would feel more acceptable in the eyes of the one who would always accept her.
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