The Beauty of Spit

So I'm a pastor. One that preaches pretty often. But I get to sort of tag-team with a friend of mine who has done it a lot longer than I have and who is a lot better than I am. He does a few weeks, then I do a week or two. In between weekends, we talk and laugh and smoke cigars. Even in the winter. And this is my job.

Last weekend, right before he went up to speak, I looked down at his folio -- you know, the folder that speakers put their talk in. It's old and black, and on the inside, it's literally covered with spit. He sucks on these little cough drops -- he would remind you that they're sugar free because he's conscious about stuff like that -- which, when mixed with his spit, form this sticky substance that now covers the inside of his folio. It's hilarious.

The bible that he preaches from is the same way. Sometimes he can't even turn the pages because they're stuck together from the spitting. It's actually really gross.

My folio is brand new; Mary got it for me for father's day. I wanted one because I noticed how cool my friend's is. Mine has no spit inside of it. In fact, I haven't even preached from it yet.

So back to last weekend. I looked at his; then I looked at mine. His is old and weathered. And did I mention how much spit there is? It's a minefield of spit. Mine is new and there isn't any spit. Not a drop to behold.

You know what I am looking forward to? That day, years from now, when I look down at my old, used, spit filled folio and see it sitting next to a brand new one, owned by a friend who I love as much as my friend loves me.

Because that is more important than anything that will ever be held inside anyone's folio.