THE ASSIGNMENT

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 190

Writing this blog over the past 190 days has taught me a few universal truths. First: it’s never a bad time to make homemade ice cream. Sometimes I keep it strict Keto and Carnivore-friendly, and sometimes a guy’s just gotta break the rules and turn the dial up to eleven. Second: when I’m feeling a bit dry and needing a burst of inspiration, all I gotta do is hit social media. Somewhere out there in the ethersphere, the inspiration will appear.

Ethersphere. Did I just make up a word? Look, I know I don’t have a PhD or anything, but that one is kinda neat. Ether-sphere. Yeah, I like that. It’s a keeper in my books. Feel free to use it; it’s not trademarked or anything. Anyway… squirrel!

Tonight, I thought a little of both ice cream and inspiration were in order. So, as I bang this out on the keyboard, a batch of homemade “Strawberry Zing” is churning away—100% all-natural, no artificial dyes or flavorings, and very little sweetener apart from what the good Lord provided.

Now, no bum-rushing the parsonage to raid the freezer. It still needs to set up for a few more hours, and I've got Arlo and Gus Gus running point on security so nobody gets a taste early. I’m thinking a side hustle is in order: “I Scream! U Scream!” A new premier attraction for Comfrey? We just need a couple hundred thou for the startup investment. GoFundMe, anyone? Hahaha!

Anyway, back to Facebook.

Sewwwww, as the cream was churning, I saw a post from an old church friend about our beloved friend Pastor Bob. The post read: “Prayers for Pastor Bob B who has an aortic aneurysm. 🙏 Will be given tests tomorrow.”

Pastor Burmeister was my pastoral care mentor while I attended seminary. Being on staff at North Heights, I’d gotten to know Pastor B over a couple of years. He was one of the more “traditional” Lutherans in the bunch—kinda old-school, if you catch my drift. But he wasn’t “old” at heart. While he was technically of retirement age back then, he still had a whole lot of pep in his step.

When I hit my fourth year, Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) finally popped onto my schedule. Not only was it an academic class, but we were required to pair it with real-world ministry experience. Who better to ask to serve as my mentor than the guy who ate, slept, and breathed pastoral care: Pastor B. So, I asked if he’d be willing to take on this aging greenhorn, and Bob gladly obliged.

Our first few meetings were all about getting to know each other and outlining my goals. But in Week 3, Bob wasted no time. He sent me on my very first assignment: Go to St. Paul Ramsey Medical Center, find “Gramma Ginny” (I don’t remember her actual name), visit with her, pray for her, and determine if there’s any way we can assist her.

With my boss’s permission, away I went that afternoon. Time was of the essence, after all. A half-hour later, I arrived at the hospital, checked in, received my temporary visiting “clergy” badge, and up the elevator I went.

When I found her room, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Now, I didn’t know Gramma Ginny from Eve, and having been taught basic manners, I knocked on the door instead of barging right in like I owned the place. Then I heard it: “Hello. Come on in.”

“This is Jason Bonnicksen from North Heights, here to visit with you. Our friend Pastor Burmeister asked if I could come and see you,” I replied through the crack. (Or something along those lines.)

“Come on in,” Ginny replied.

So, without further ado, I cautiously pushed the door open. And there she was. Sitting butt-naked on the porta-potty in the dead center of the room—all her God-given glory being revealed for the whole world to see.

OH MY GRACIOUS, y’all! I was mortified. It was like walking in on your mom, ya know? (And ain’t nobody wanna see that.) I didn’t laugh at the time, but I did want to execute a tactical retreat faster than a sailor running into shore patrol in the red light district, if you catch my drift. I stammered out, “Ummm… I am so sorry. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

A half-hour later, I finally mustered up the courage to go back. While I don’t remember the theological depths of our conversation, we did share a bunch of good laughs, mostly at both of our expenses. She kindly let me know that at her age (early 90s, if I recall), modesty goes right out the window.

The next day, I shared the news with Pastor Bob, and all he could do was laugh. He let me know he’d seen “it all” in his day, and that in time, I would too. After writing up my “Verbatim Report” for my seminary class, I shared it with my peers. I’ll just leave this here: while I thought my story was a zinger, a classmate’s report actually took the cake. But that, perhaps, is a story for another time.

In any event, I’m incredibly thankful for Pastor Robert Burmeister, my friend and mentor. I’m thankful for the raw experiences he threw my way and the wisdom he instilled in me. Being out here in rural ministry has made it all come rushing back.

Tonight, do me a solid and keep my aging mentor in your prayers. While I don’t know the Lord’s timing, Pastor B just might have some work left to do on this earth.

Anyway, what are you thankful for today? Any zinger of a story that you wanna share?