"Of priests, who are Levites and Descendants of Zadok..."

That would be Ezekiel 44:15. And verse 16: "They alone are to enter my sanctuary, they alone are to come near to my table to minister before me and perform my service." (NIV)

I had to call him. I realized I had taken the wrong road again. In the beginning, things looked familiar, the exit ramp, the highway, the Walmart on the right...even the names of a few exits...then I encountered the water. I don't remember water before. I've gotten off on the wrong road. I'm going to be late. Oh, why didn't I look at a map before I left? Why did I think I would remember how to get there?

I made the first call. "I'm on this road."
"That's the wrong road, Cindy. Go back to the beginning, when you get to this marker, call me. I'll tell you what to do."

Sigh...

I make the second call. "OK, now I'm on the right road. Things are starting to look familiar. What next?"
"Go to Exit 3313. Cross the railroad tracks. Stop in the parking lot. Call me again."

Sigh...

And things do look familiar. And I have to make a bathroom stop. I take the next exit. I think, 'Hey, this looks very familiar. This was where I got off the last time. Maybe he's forgotten. Maybe he thought I was somewhere else. Maybe I should go down this road instead. He gave me directions yesterday. Maybe I could just go from here and follow the directions I have. Then I wouldn't have to call him again.'

sigh...

I ask the kid working at the Burger King, "Do you know where Exit 3313 is?"
He looks at me and then walks into the back...comes back later. No one knows. "I just know how to get to the Walmart," he tells me.

sigh...

I look at the road I took before on my last visit. Then I think, not once has he ever led you astray. Not once has he ever been wrong. Why are you questioning him again?

sigh...

I think, 'Just do what he tells you do to.' And of course, there is a train coming down the tracks. I remember: "When you get across the tracks, stop in the parking lot and call me." Only I'm not on 3313 yet.
Trust him. I go through the light. I see the sign: 3313 Next Exit. I breathe a little easier. Now I have to wait for the train.

I simply have to do what he tells me to do. I hate bothering him. I hate having to be told twice. Three times. And I am embarrassed about how patient he is with me. He never makes anyone feel small. That's his nature to forgive our weaknesses.

The train passes. I cross the tracks. I pull into the gravel parking lot. I call him.

"Hello, it's me."

" OK. You have a pen? Here's what you do: first continue on this road for about 2 and a half miles. You'll go over three hills. At the third hill, you will make a right. The road does not have a name. Drive until you get to a dead end, then turn left. You will drive about 100 feet and then you will turn left on a road that has no name, but there is a red fire plug."

I am laughing now. "100 feet, right?"

"Yes. then go another 75 feet and turn left. I have a swing in the front yard."

I'm looking at this paper on the seat next to me...with all these little notes.

"You know I'm going to write about this."

He laughs. "See you in a few minutes."

I drive down an almost two lane road for about two miles. Each car or truck I pass waves a friendly hello to me. Reminds me of driving to TAMU, when everyone on the road was nice. I try to miss the pot holes. I don't miss all of them. I sometimes veer into the grassy fields on the right.

Is that the third hill or the second? And exactly what does he mean by hill anyway? Finally something looks right. I turn. I see houses. This looks promising. There is no name on the road, just a post where it used to be. 'Drive to the dead end and turn left.'

OK. Trust him. Listen to him.

I get to the dead end. I turn left. I drive the next 100 feet slowly...how do I know how far 100 feet is? But I see the red fire hydrant. I turn left. Ahead, I see the street I am looking for and I see the swing.

I pull up and grab the orchid I brought him from the back seat. It tipped over. Oh, well.

The priest opens the door, "You made it!" and he has a great big smile on his face. "Welcome!" and he introduces me to his sister, Sarah. I look at her and try to hold back my tears. I think about how good it is that she is here. What must it be like to have a brother? To have a brother who is a priest? To have a brother who is this priest? This priest, the one who 'came to me in a vision' when I thought I was going to die one night about 13 years ago. He matters in my journey.

Of course, he tells me he doesn't matter. Only God matters. Of course, I say. But you are stuck with me anyway. You are part of what has happened and are a part of what will happen.

He listens. I listen. In my head, I think about all the people whose lives he has touched and I trying to send him a message without speaking: Remember. Remember the good stuff. You changed my life. OK, God changed my life by using you. You said yes. You will never know in this life all the lives you have blessed with your kindness.

I'm thinking, why am I here? Because he has never led me astray. Because his words are true. Because he saw me when I was ugly and confused and saw me to the other side. Because if he says no, I will seriously consider no. But especially because, for whatever reason, he thinks I am a good person and that I will continue to do good work. And every now and then, I need to remember that about myself.

Yes, any priest would do that. Any good priest. Any holy man. Any true Levite and descendant of Zadok who is allowed to enter the sanctuary, whose only inheritance is God.

But he was the one who said, "Cindy, return to the Eucharist. Nothing else will make you happy."

And I listened. And I obeyed.

Before I left, I got his sister to take a picture of us. 15 years...really 26 years since I met him...and I only have a photo from a long distance. He gave me a blessing and walked me to the door.

He tells me how to get home. I said, I can remember how I got here. He says, "When you go home, you will be going a different way. It will be easier." Then he tells me. "You don't have to write it down. Just remember: two rights and then a left."

Theologically a thousand thoughts are running through my mind: Obedience and free will. Getting lost. traveling an often unmarked path to reach the goal. Having to trust. Having to ask. More than once. Not getting tempted to do what you think you know. Remembering who he is. Remembering why you are here. And all those things we talked about that aren't mentioned here.

"I'll be coming back." And you better be well, I think. Oh please, God, take care of him. I'm not ready to say goodbye. Does he know that's what I am afraid of?

He smiles. I start to get in my car.

Then he says, just before he closes the door, "Call me when you get to Waco."

Love, Cindy