December, 7, 2015

William

Humanities

A day in the life of the Colonial Priest

I finish the service and walk into the backroom. I carefully put away the communion and books. Then I change into regular clothes. The organist greets me as I am about to leave. We decide to get lunch at The Swan. My name is Truth Homer. I am the priest at the local church. The organ player is my very good friend Clement. We are good friends with Jared the tavern owner so we go there frequently. I is perhaps the best place to go for someone in the upper middling class. I know most people in the town, as they all go to church. I was taught in England, and came to America five years ago. After a delicious lunch,—– goes home. I stroll back to church, and go into the back room. I open the small cupboard in the back where the collection is kept. I count the money and organize it by denomination.  There is not much is there but it is always enough. I sit in the dark back room for a long time. I am always busy, so I like to sit and do nothing in between services. I just sit and think. I feel that I am more connected to god when I do nothing. There are so many distractions in my life and doing nothing focuses on the one thing that I want to do. Pray to God.

I wake up several hours later unsure of the time. As my eyes adjust to the light, I hear the loud sound of bells. Three bells later I up and rushing to put on my robes. The afternoon service starts at three ten. I rush out of the room, and frantically set out the communion, making sure not to spill any on the beautiful altar and rugs. At three five Clement is ready at the organ. Emery Hiram is one of the parishioners, but helps with things like lighting candles and cleaning. We fix the cushions and light the candles and at three eight I open the doors. Some who wait outside come right in, but many have not gotten to here yet. I greet everyone at the door, because of course I see them almost everyday. Once everyone is there, I start the service. The sermon was nothing special but still taught a valuable lesson about hope. After the service, I meet with anyone who wants to talk for a bit about where they are in their spiritual journey. I always enjoy doing this because I get to learn a little more about everyone. After the three ten service, the church is open to anyone who wants to pray. I go into the backroom, and take out the bible, ink, and quill. I sit outside, and study and write about what tomorrow’s sermon will be. After about an hour, I got tired of this. It is too early for dinner, so i go down to the woodshop to see how the new pew looks. I had it made a few weeks back and they were just finishing it. It looks great. I wish we could replace all of the old pews in the church, but it would cost a fortune. And while it’s nice to have the new pews, sometimes I sit in the real old ones and think of how many people have sat in the same place, all praying to the same thing. But after many a years, the pews start to fall apart. I walk out of the wood shop with a smile on my face. The woodworkers did an even better job than I had expected. The carving were so intricate, I thought it must have been made in the hands of god himself! I have had quite a long day so I go to the butcher and baker to get ham and bread. As a walk home I think of how special I am to be god’s servant. Once I get how, I hastily eat some dinner. I go outside and watch the sunset as I smoke a pipe.