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Text Box: BEARING WITNESS TO CHRIST WITH A SHIRT !!! As Father combed his hair after dressing in the morning he noted his hair had passed the stage of imitating that of Albert Einstein and had entered into the realm of ridiculous disarray favored by celebrities arrested for possession of drugs or DWI for their police mug shots. So after morning Divine Liturgy (Mass) he skipped breakfast and headed for the barber shop. The new barber, a lady, staunchly Baptist, had taken over the barber shop a couple of years before when the old barber, a man, had retired. Another old guy in the chair, someone Father recognized, Hungarian Catholic. Young skinny guy waiting - well younger than Father and the old guy in the chair, Assemblies of God and on his third wife was disclosed after a few minutes conversation. A Mom leaving with her pre-teen son, very respectful child as country children often are. Everybody acknowledged each other as people are wont to do in a barber shop - it is different in a barber shop as compared with a beauty salon. More friendly, and no chemical smells. An alligator trapper arrived with pictures of a gigantic alligator he recently trapped and relocated. Big son-of-a-gun, the alligator, not the trapper. The trapper - skinny, about 5’ 4”, perhaps 115 pounds on a wet day with his boots on, French ancestry. Father’s turn in the chair, and as he settled in a lady with her just entering teenage son entered. She glanced at Father, saw his cleric shirt, correctly guessed he is a priest, but probably thought he is Roman Catholic and not Orthodox Catholic. She and barber greeted each other, then the barber asked Father, “Regular haircut as usual?” “Yep.”

Text Box: “You don’t wish to try something new?” “Would it help any?” (Big grin) “Not likely,” (Big smile, ladies smile, they do not grin.) “I don’t call no man father,” the newly arrived lady challenged. The old Priest did not rise to the bait, and simply asked the lady barber how her family was doing. As they talked the lady who ‘don’t call no man father’ interjected, saying, “He’s going to visit his aunt,” indicating her just entering teenage son. “They’re on the coast and he’s never been swimming before so I’ve covered him in the Blood of the Lamb.” “Sounds like you’ll be having a lot of fun,” the lady barber told the boy. And to his mother she said, “I wouldn’t worry about him swimming. They’ll take good care of him.” The general conversation in the barber shop then centered on camping and swimming vacations, the ‘blood of the lamb’ lady constantly reiterating her trust that Jesus would take care of her son because she had covered him in the blood of the lamb. As she finished cutting Father’s hair the lady barber asked, “Any hair spray?” “I'm still not a girley man,” he replied, smiling. “What ever hair there is can pretty much do what ever happens to it, and a comb works easier when there is nothing to ‘stick it up’.” As Father paid the lady barber the young teens boy was motioned ahead by the others and, checking to be sure it was OK with his mother, he sat in the barber chair. Most of the time country children are rather polite and he was no exception. Then, to everyone’s surprise, as Father was leaving, the ‘blood of the lamb’ lady stopped him and asked, “You’re a Priest, aren’t you?” “Yes mam,” he replied.

Text Box: “Father,” she asked pleadingly, “could you give him a blessing to keep him safe on vacation.” “Sure,” he replied. “The first time I gave this blessing was more than twenty years ago, to a young girl who had just been given a sports car. The next day she was in a wreck with an eighteen wheeler. She had to be extracted with the jaws of life, spent two hours in the hospital, and walked out without a bruise. They put an ACE bandage on her knee but that was just window dressing. You want the same blessing.” “Yes Father, please.” “May almighty God bless you and keep you safe in your travels today and throughout your life, and especially on your vacation, in the name of the Father +, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit +, Amen.” And as he gave the blessing with the sign of the cross everyone in the barber shop blessed themselves with the sign of the cross: Baptist, Assemblies of God, fallen away Catholic. But the boy looked at his mother first to be sure it was OK, and probably to see how it was done. As he left Father said, “I kind of included everyone in the blessing. Hope you’all don’t mind.” They all smiled and a few timidly waved at him as he left. All because he, as is his custom, was wearing his black cleric shirt with the little small white “thingie” in the front of the collar. Obviously a Priest, his black jeans and cowboy boots notwithstanding. +

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