Pastors. Pancakes. And Whales.

Breakfast . . . .

by . . .

the . . .

sea.

Today was our monthly get together with a few local pastors and wives; we usually eat at someone’s home but this time we opted to go to a rustic, ocean front restaurant instead. Just a few minutes before I took these photos, there had been whales spotted right out at the end of the pier. That would have been pretty cool to experience pancakes and whales at the same time!

Of course, the way I’ve been eating comfort carbs lately, I could probably float on out to sea and do my own (very convincing) whale impersonation. But I won’t. (I wouldn’t want them to look bad.)

And since I’m on this (delightful) subject, I’ve decided that I’m going to make something good come out of a bad situation. When I go in for my mastectomy next Friday, I’m going to speak to the surgeon beforehand and ask him to go ahead and do a hip, stomach and thigh reduction while we’re in there. I mean, really--what’s the big deal? I’m already asleep. I’ve already got a bill to pay that will curl my toenails. He’s already got the surgical team assembled. Just take another few minutes and go ahead make me a happy woman! (A double chin-ectomy would be great, too.)

Um. Am I living in a dream world? Sigh. I was afraid of that.

Anyway, back to the pastor’s breakfast.

As the ten of us were sitting at our table overlooking the ocean I thought to myself, “If someone walked around the restaurant and asked the other customers to guess our profession, no one would ever think to guess, “I bet that’s a bunch of pastors and their wives.”

Seriously. This group consists of some of the zaniest, loudest, funniest, wackiest people you have ever met. And out of the five couples, there were three different denominations represented. But there wasn’t any competition. No trying to “one up” each other. No sheep stealing. No intimations of, “Our church is better than your church,” or “We’ve got it right and you’ve got it wrong.” Instead, we were affirming each other, asking how we could help, how we could better cooperate, how we could reach out to the community better.

And you know what? I think I could safely say that if Jesus had been sitting there with us--eating pancakes, listening to us talk, watching the waves, watching for whales--He would no doubt have had a little smile on His face. Shucks. He might have even been thinking, “This is such a great thing to see my ‘kids’ getting along so well!”

But the morning wasn’t only about smiles and laughter. Halfway through the breakfast, when one of the pastor’s wives asked me for details about my surgery, I suddenly discovered that I couldn’t answer her without breaking down into tears.

You know what? Had Jesus been sitting there with us when I started to cry, I believe that His smile would have turned to tears, right along with mine.

And when the pastor’s wife next to me put her arm around me and gently rubbed my shoulder, I understood an old truth in a new way. I understood that Jesus truly was present in that small room surrounded by the ocean He had made. He was revealed in the splendor of His creation. He was seen in the beauty of our unity. And He showed up in the compassion of one of His children reaching out to another.

He was there, indeed.

Amid the pastors. The pancakes. And the whales.