When the pastor comes calling

Yep, back in the 1960s the one-and-only pastor I knew made house calls. In fact, I vividly remember my dad coming home after a day of "making calls."

"Outta the way, kids." Dad was making a beeline for the bathroom, and we'd joke: "Don't these homes have bathrooms?" Sometimes we'd hear a coffee intake report, as if the day's 13 cups were a badge of honor. Driving the family car meant putting up with stray church bulletins and a communion set that surfed across the seat with every corner.

And he kept making those calls — well into a new century. After a recent "second retirement" from visitation pastor status, at age 85, visiting parishioners is still my dad's first love. Some would say "he's from the old school."