Off to Wichita

For some reason, during the plane trip to Wichita, I kept thinking of the Glen Campbell song: The Wichita lineman. Although I was just a kid, and didn’t really understand the underlying meaning of the words, I loved the melody and I guess I just enjoyed hearing Glen sing it. It was actually about a telephone lineman —lonely for his girl back home, hoping to hear her on the line.  And of course, I couldn’t seem to get the lyrics or the melody out of my head, and even caught myself singing it as I got off the plane in Wichita.

It’s Sunday, and the only time I could get away to see Ollie.  I knew he had to be in Wichita, that is, if he was still alive at his age, but then, despite his lonely and secretive life, it seemed if he had died, somehow, I would’ve found out first.  The shadow men would probably find me and let me know. The problem is, he mentioned the Brickyard bar, and I figured that would be the most logical place to find him, but then, the bar was closed on Sunday.  Not only that, it’s an outdoor venue with live bands, and well, he wouldn’t tolerate the cold very well today. 

So, I came all this way, and with the limited time I had, I had to use my knowledge of Ollie to find him.  I wondered where he would be around 10 am on a Sunday.  At a pancake house with a plateful of blueberry pancakes and bacon with a huge orange juice?  Well, maybe, but not at 10 am.  I figured he was an early riser and had breakfast much earlier.  Was he at the airport, flying around some Bonanza aircraft for fun?  Nah.  He loved aviation, for sure, but not at 10 am Sunday.  He was at church, no question.  I remembered how he wowed the parishioners at the small beach church with his impromptu sermon and also at Easter service when the secret service guys came to join him in the pew, respecting him after he was arrested in Washington D.C, then pardoned by the president because the optics of throwing a 103-year-old man in jail were poor.

The difficulty I found myself in was that there are a lot of churches in Wichita, and I had no idea which one he would have chosen now, for the 5 or 6 weeks that he’s been here. And yeah, I know he’s still here, because he would have somehow let me know not to come. So, I looked up the churches on the internet, hoping one would strike me as Ollie’s choice.  There was the New Life church, and that was not a title he would go for.  Grace Point, sounded good, but didn’t fit, then, there was Pathway Church.  None of the names struck me as ones Ollie would choose.  I was about to give up with these names, then I read: Countryside Christian Church. That sounded like Ollie.  Basic, and country, no frills.  That was it, and I knew it because Ollie was becoming a part of me, and I felt like he knew this was happening and he was leading me along, like a master and his student.

I sat in the second row, up front, just behind where the deacons sat. At the beach church, Ollie sat up front, and even stood up to talk.  Yeah, that was the best place. So, the music was playing and we were singing, and I left a seat, protected on my left and right for him, but he wasn’t there.  When the pastor began with his sermon, right in front of me, I figured Ollie wasn’t coming, or he just was at another church, or dead, or a hundred possibilities.  Why was I so stupid to fly out here like this with a vacuum of knowledge of where he was?  Then I observed the pastor suddenly dropped his train of thought stopped talking and looked up briefly as someone walked in late, and decided to walk all the way up front so she could be seen by everyone.  I looked behind me, like all the other male gawkers, and it was the blonde —Veronica, the shiny sig-sauer sultry seductress! She stood next to me and whispered, “Carson, may I have a seat?”  I said, “well um sure, but it’s reserved.” 

“For who?”

Not wanting to give away that I was waiting for her prize catch —Ollie, I whispered, “sit down and don’t’ make a scene.  It’s reserved for damsels in distress who have no place to sit in this large sanctuary.”

She smiled, and took a seat on my left and crossed her legs and showed her fancy heels but she controlled herself thankfully, and did not allow them to flop around too much.  I was relieved when the pastor resumed his sermon, and she was quiet the whole time, but I knew why she was here.  How did she find this church and also how did she figure out Wichita?  The only other person who could have figured this out was Sam, the bartender at the beach bar when he handed me the secret letter, but then, Sam probably did not even read it. Did she get to Sam?  Maybe seduced him, I guess.

After the sermon, the pastor gave a prayer and said, “Sometimes we allow parishioners to bring to us their favorite scriptures, so we can think about them and discuss them in small groups.  Today, I have an anonymous contribution from one of our shy parishioners and I will read it to you now:”

John 8:12:  I am the light of the world.  Whoever fallows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.

Romans 5: 3-5: Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance: perseverance, character and hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirt whom he has given us.

The pastor added, “This anonymous parishioner added his own comments:” 

“The world is full of darkness and strife, but at the same time my friends from Wichita — if we persevere during out suffering, we will build our character and we will always hope, because Jesus will not allow us to be in darkness, but in the light, if we only stay strong, fight the good fight, and not give up.  Sometimes in life, there are surprises, disguised as temptations, and these surprises can sometimes sit right next to us, but we won’t fear anyone who is near us, because we have the light of life as followers.”

The quiet in the sanctuary was deafening after this.  Veronica looked at me, puzzled, and her face flushed crimson, but at the same time, her eyes showed me that maybe she didn’t understand the significance of what happened, or who this anonymous parishioner was.

The service ended and I understood that Ollie had written this piece, and although written for me, it was also written for the consumption of everyone in the sanctuary. He was not there physically, but he knew.  He knew that he couldn’t be there because she was getting closer, and although he was never afraid, he did not want to cause me trouble. I was his young student.  He foiled them again, don’t ask me how, because I have no idea whatsoever. I walked out of the sanctuary smiling a proud and grateful smile, because I knew that although Ollie was not there physically, he was protecting us all the while and now I felt strong and full of purpose and I will own his amazing story.

© 2024. SRCarson Publications.