Yesterday the Bishop approached me right after opening exercises in Priesthood meeting and said something in a very serious tone: "Jeff, there's a letter from Salt Lake in my office with your name in it. Please come in later so we can talk about it." I couldn't get any more hints than that from him in the few seconds he had. After getting the High Priests Group meeting started and turning the time over to our instructor, my mind turned to this ominous letter. Was this some kind of call? His voice and body language had suggested that the letter meant trouble. Was I in trouble? For what? Ah, could it be my Web site?! Or my blog? Hmmm, was some General Authority upset about something unorthodox I may have said, or was there a new policy discouraging LDS Web sites and blogs? Look, the Church is true, but there's still a large percentage of mortals among its leaders and poor decisions can be made - but there also might be a wise and inspired purpose in asking me to redirect my efforts. Freedom from site-related email and updates and blogging and site design and generating new pages? But my site is needed, isn't it?? That couldn't really be it, or was it?
The suspense was becoming agonizing as I pondered the possibilities, so I got up and left in the middle of the lesson, hoping to catch the Bishop in the hallway. I did find him there, but he was in a conversation. I would need to wait until right after Church.
When I finally got into his office, he looked at me with a serious, even ominous look and asked a question that probably made my heart skip a beat or two: "Brother Lindsay, how are your finances?"
How are my finances? Oh no, they're going to ask me to do something that will require living off my savings. But what? Where? Are they serious? I've been working hard to save and invest wisely, but shutting off my income was not something I was planning to do right away. "How are my finances?" I blurted out. "Well, they are, uh, . . . come on, what's this letter about?" He then opened the large envelope on my desk and pulled out a letter on a rich cream-colored paper with an elegant letterhead. It looked official, serious, and lengthy. I wasn't getting any more comfortable.
He then explained that this was a letter from the LDS Medical Department noting that my son Daniel had needed an extra vaccination for his mission while he was in the MTC, and that they hoped the Lindsay family would be able to cover the $112 fee. It was a long letter talking about the need to be sensitive to family finances and so forth. Why didn't they just send this letter to me? But this was all a huge relief. Even with some of my favorite stocks dropping last week, I can handle $112.
"Bishop, I can handle that. But why all the suspense? I was thinking they wanted me to shut down my Website or something, and had been making decisions about how to deal with that."
He smiled and said that he occasionally likes people to be able to review all the possibilities before giving out the details. I guess that can be healthy process.
"Interesting. Well, anyway, I'm relieved. And now I can call the Methodists and tell them that the deal is off."
He chuckled. He knew it was a joke. And I sincerely hope it was.
The main trial of my faith here may have been helping me to see if I had enough patience to sit through the priesthood meeting I'm in charge of without walking out in the middle to satisfy my curiosity. I guess I need more faith.
(By the way, the Bishop and I joke with each other a lot. The question about finances was a tiny little joke, and the brief delay in telling me the content of the letter was certainly not malicious. He had no idea what was going through my head. And even if he had, I would excuse it as a joke, just not the kind I want to hear every week. Those few nervous minutes gave me something to think about, and to blog about - so all is well!)