a poem about temptation

 

Tempted By an Apple
by Jim

Walked into a certain place today

For the first time in my life.

Crowded!

Saw one of those things. Thought,

“Wow! Good price. But how many seconds before I

Lose it?”

 

 

Technorati tags: iPod shuffle, apple store

the inner youth minister: may he rest in peace

Last night I visited my favorite Starbucks, which is almost twenty miles (and a bit more than a gallon of gas in this new buff whip of mine) away. I had finished one of the two articles that my publisher is waiting for and I wanted to relax with a book. Relax somewhere away from the noise of my own brood, if two daughters, two cats, and a dog can be called a brood.

My Sumatra had not yet grown cold when they came in. Three girls and a guy, all high school aged. The three chatty girls posessed the loud, obnoxious voices that high shool females seem especially able to cultivate. The guy seemed to have learned to talk from his homegirls.

They sat down right next to me.

Even the two other customers in the store at the time–two young women not far removed from the age of the chatty klatsch–exchanged looks of resigned defeat that said, “high school,” both with each other and with me.

I tried to keep reading. But one of the chatty girls broke into a sotto voce staccato machine gun barrage of a story about some guy and his cell phone. Then, as if on cue, that subject of the story called one of the other girls at the table. She looked at her phone and crowed, “O MY GAAWWWD!” and they all laughed. I’d describe the laughter but there aren’t words to do it justice. It made all the baristas stop in the middle of their brewing and milk frothing and look at them. I thought, “If only eyes were short range artillery batteries.”

In days of old, I probably would have welcomed the presence of these young people because I was a youth minister and that’s what we do. Or did. ‘Was’ is the operative word in that sentence.

After a failed attempt at continuing to read, I left. As I pulled out of the parking space, I cast a glance back through the drizzle into the warm caffeinated glow, and they were still there laughing their heads off. And the other women were getting up to leave. And the baristas were shaking their heads.

And I knew for certain that I’m not a youth minister anymore.

 

Technorati tags: youth ministry