Faith Works 12-16-17

Faith Works 12-16-17

Jeff Gill

 

Simon lives! (part two)

___

 

[ital.] A story of the Christmas season [end ital.]

 

So, how is it that Simon is alive?

 

I had been Ernestine and Simon's pastor for some years now, and they had both been members of our congregation for most of their eighty-some years. He died last year right around Christmas, and this December strange things had happened to lead Ern to call me and ask if I could do some "snooping around" as she called it, to find some answers.

 

She was wondering if this spate of good deeds done around town the last few weeks was a well-intended gesture by their two sons, or a loving prank being played in Simon's memory by "The Golden Cuppers" he used to drink coffee with every weekday morning, or could a group of the men from church he'd done home repairs with be using his name for their helpful holiday actions?

 

Which is how I ended up at a layaway counter at one of our big stores, asking if anyone could remember who had left a note, saying "Merry Christmas, Simon" for a woman who had learned to her delight that the kids' Christmas gifts were paid for.

 

The clerk surprised me, calling me by name and then explaining she'd been a bridesmaid at a wedding I'd done last spring out at the Trout Club. When I told her what I was curious about, she immediately replied "Oh, I remember how happy that lady was! That made her year."

 

"But were you working when someone came in to pay off her account?" I asked.

 

She nodded. "I think so. We get lots of customers here, of course, but usually people are paying on their own stuff. It was an older guy, older than you I mean, and when he said what he wanted to do I couldn't think of any reason why he couldn't, like paying for the person behind you in the drive-up line, you know?"

 

I nodded, leaving alone the question of "older than who?" She tried to recall details, but her description could have been any of a few thousand men of a certain age in winter coats and grey hair who leave little or no impression on a young woman's memory. I thanked her, and invited her to Christmas Eve services.

 

"Thank you!" she said, surprising me with how surprised she seemed at the offer, and then added "Hey, that guy said the same thing. You just reminded me of that." She couldn't remember much more, but it was clearly our church, with the same times of service and all. Other customers came in, so after a few more Christmas wishes, I wandered back towards the main doors.

 

Heading into the parking lot, I passed the Salvation Army bellringer and his red kettle. Remembering they'd gotten some gold coins, wrapped in pieces of paper, and only found later when they were emptied, I paused to fish out a five, and as I put it in, asked "Do you know yet who put gold coins in your kettle?"

 

"Well, sir, they tell me the note said it was a fellow named Simon, but I'm pretty sure I remember who it was the day it happened," he said, pausing in his ringing.

 

"Really? You recall the piece of paper being tucked into the slot?" I asked.

 

"Exactly," he nodded. "Except the time I'm thinking of, it wasn't one guy, it was three of them." He explained one had the carefully folded note in his hand, but it was clearly three guys together, who went off among the parked cars as a group.

 

Interesting, I thought -- the Golden Cuppers had a core group of three who sat there the longest, even though it was an assembly that could end up four or five or even more some mornings. They'd been four until Simon passed.

 

Ern had given me the name and address of the person who had gotten assistance with their flat tire a few weeks ago; as I went to my car, I mentally mapped out my route from the store to the house. Yet another strange encounter, where an older man had shown up and helped with the jack and spare, saying as he left his name was Simon. Without the last name, how had they found Ern's home address to send a thank you to, if he'd just said he was Simon?

 

More questions to ask yet, and when I was done asking them, would I have an answer for her? How was it that her late husband was busy all over our community doing good deeds a year after we'd said our goodbyes? Now I wanted to know as much as his widow did.

 

(Part two of three, concluding next week!)

 

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; tell him about your Christmas season surprises at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.