Marshall Singletary
THE PREACHER'S MASK

After hitting the snooze bar twice, The Reverend Willoughby Goodfellow decided it was time to begin his day. He said a brief prayer while sitting sleepily on the side of the bed, and then began

the morning rituals. Rinsing his razor, he looked into the mirror and shook his head. He tried to smooth away the creases and canyons running across his face and the saddlebags under his eyes. It didn't work.

He rummaged through the dresser drawer containing the several masks which defined his various roles and functions.

He found the "Preacher Mask" lying just

under the "Genial Host" and "Loyal Club Member"

masks. He laid the "Preacher Mask" on the dresser top. The mask had gotten a little frayed and worn across the years.

He may soon have to lay it aside. For now, however, it still gave him the illusion of dignity and authority combined with just the right amount of approachability. He would put it on just before leaving.

After another cup of coffee, he was ready to leave. He patted the dog, kissed his wife and went hurriedly out the door. He grinned as he thought, "Someday I'm going to pat my wife and kiss the dog!"

His day was busy, but everything went so well: much better than usual. His secretary even smiled at him. Though the morning office hours were busy with phone calls and visitors, everyone seemed friendly and willing to work through whatever issues were brought to him.

The sermon he was working on between the calls and visits was developing well. He didn't understand it, but was thankful for the good day he was having.

The afternoon was filled with hospital calls, nursing home calls, an appointment and a late afternoon counseling session. After a hastily eaten supper, he patted the dog, kissed his wife and hurried to another church meeting. Later in the evening, he returned home smiling.

Throughout the course of the day and evening, everyone seemed more relaxed, and corporative around him. He didn't know why, but he was grateful.

As he prepared to brush his teeth that evening, he looked into the mirror. He stepped back, startled at what he saw. He had forgotten to put on his Preacher Mask. He wondered briefly if the absence of his mask and the day he had were somehow connected. Of course, he decided they weren't.

He hung the mask on the doorknob, so he wouldn't forget it the next morning, said his prayers and went to bed.

You can reach Marshall K. Singletary, via U.S. Mail at P. O. Box 420, Waynesboro, Georgia 30830; by phone at: 706-554- 2188; or via email: msingletary@wfumc.org.