"The Missionaries have come to Elm Street"

Me and that palooka, Jordan Kisswomen, was out evanglizing and spreading the message, the good news about the Lord Jesus Christ and hope for the whole world, baby Jesus himself as he lay in the cradle, a little diamond of all the compressed wishes and hopes of all the world.

There are times when we go to a house and find a believer, one who is churched or baptized or whatever, and they are always so nice, like we're in the same club or something, we have that nugget of faith in common with ourselves.

One such occasion, it was nice house, nice yard, tended frontage and all, and all the latest homeowner trends and all, like I expect it had outdoor kitchen and all, pergola and all that good stuff, wicker sofas and all.  There was a sign on the porch, "when you go, leave us some of the love you brought with you".

We got the good treatment for an everyday kind of visitor; she had an apple pie in the fridge--one of those grocery store things.  Can't go wrong with that, and everybody doesn't have 10 hours to make homemade.  It was good, could have been better, but good, and certainly good enough for two random visitors.

We were chawing and talking over our favorite psalms, having a really nice visit, when she went in a drawer for napkins.  "Mom kept ours in the water closet." And there was an abrupt stop when I was informed the water closet is a bathroom in France, and I told them I wasn't French, nor had never been to France.  I heard about the church in Reims, but that was about all, how the stained glass looked nice: an odd detail about a far-flung place, or I had read about Caesar looting ceremonial grounds in old Gaul.

Jordan was from Poughkeepsie, and the lady of the house was talking about Davenport, Iowa, and there I was going into a daydream about the Auman auctions around that part of the country, like the high crops, the old gas models, the early LP stuff, and all that, vineyard and wheatland.  I was stung about the water closet, a bit, but I was feeling a kind of sugar-glaze over my sensibilities at having the pie.

But not only did that lady feed us from the fridge, she gave us a small monetary gift for our journey; that was the spirit of the believer, that were we not spreading the message, we always support the spreading of the message, always, part of us is with them, if only part of our spirit, and part of our wallet, oft times, too, that we spend for the cause, the great Western reason du'tres and impetus, the handing of money to some specifically passionate missionary on about some cause.

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