One of the first folks I met here at New Church has a reputation for being somewhat of a curmudgeon. Actually, a huge curmudgeon. Make that a royal PITA to every pastor to come and go from this place for the last 70 years.
When I first arrived, R. told me that the church register was missing. I tucked this item away and didn't ponder on it too much; it came in the midst of a litany that went something like,
"And I lay THIS problem at HIS door,
And I lay THAT problem at HER door,
And I lay THIS OTHER problem at THEIR door."
The gist was, the Church of Jesus Christ is going to hell in a handbasket, and only the oldsters like R. know what it is to be good, loyal, God-fearing churchgoers. Fair enough. The register got buried, in my mind, under all R.'s complaints and accusations.
Well, friends, some of you "got" what it meant that the church register was missing. It means that, from the time of the ending of the previous church register...
no reception of a new member
no ordination of a deacon or elder
and no death
is recorded in any official record book. The last available church register ends in.... drumroll please.....
Yes, that's right. Forty-one years. I have before me the task of either A. finding the damned thing (the preferable option) or B. trying to reconstruct forty-one years of church history.
This is a huge bloody deal. And somewhere God is giggling like crazy that I, an ENFP, a vision kind of girl, a not-so-interested-in-details-and-minutiae kind of girl, get to do/ oversee this incredibly detailed reconstruction of a vital piece of church life and history.
I am audibly whimpering, just a little.