The Minister and Sister Sinner

“Ah. I smiled. I’m not really here to keep you from freaking out. I’m here to be with you while you freak out, or grieve or laugh or suffer or sing. It is a ministry of presence. It is showing up with a loving heart.” 
~ Kate Braestrup

I remember sitting in a coffee shop twelve years ago. We were regulars there, Ben and I, at a place close to our city home.

We knew everyone. One of my favourite people, let’s call him Brian (not his real name) was an elderly ex-dragqueen and retired male escort. He was HIV positive, impeccably groomed and an excellent conversationalist. (People always seem to confide their life story and innermost confidences to me, and I am glad that they feel safe to do so.) I kept an eye on Brian and often invited him to dinner or brought him a home-cooked meal. Brian kept me interesting articles from The New Yorker.

Brian had recently been deep in conversation with a younger man, a man who always seemed stressed and harried and who kept to himself. But, on this particular morning, Brian brought that man – Mark (also not his real name) – to my table and introduced him, telling me to look after him because Mark had just experienced a bad night at the deathbed of someone in his community.

We became friends that day and in the months after we often shared a table and a chat over early morning coffee. Mark was clever, funny and sharply sarcastic. Slowly I came to know what Mark did. Slowly he came to know my world too. Mark was a minister on the other side of town. He confided that to me as some kind of illicit secret some months after I first met him. He asked that I didn’t tell anyone who he was or what he did. Jokingly Mark christened me ‘Sister Sinner’ because I was a practising psychic and the Bible expressly forbids that. I explained to him that being psychic wasn’t a choice, just like being gay wasn’t a choice. We were born this way, made this way. Mark agreed.

A few years later Mark abruptly left his ministry, causing a huge scandal. I sat with him over coffee that same morning as he explained why he was leaving. He was from a religious family and he told me that he had no faith, had never had faith, didn’t believe anything he taught, didn’t believe the Bible and envied me that I had a faith at all. He’d taken the job in the church for security, a clear opportunity for advancement, and a safe place for himself as an undeclared gay man. But he hated dealing with people and he hated having to serve a congregation.

I felt so sad for him. Mark had the kind of job I’d wanted for myself when I was small. He was there for all of the important events in the lives of his parishioners. He got to give them comfort, to guide and support them, and to bring them together as a community. As a child at primary school I’d wanted to be a minister but I couldn’t, because I was a girl and also because I struggled with the teachings of the church. It didn’t fit with the feelings and knowledge that I had in my heart. I kept waiting for a better version of religion to show up, but no matter where I went I didn’t find a doctrine that fitted me. In the end, Buddhism meditation practices and my own quiet faith in something bigger than this little life we live are what serves me. I have seen too much to doubt that there is existence beyond this one, although I certainly don’t have all the answers. Which brings me back to Mark, whom I haven’t seen for ten years.

I bumped into him yesterday, in the corridor of a hospital.

He was visiting his elderly mother who is recovering from surgery. He’s back working with the church, studying and writing and following an academic path.

I was visiting a long-time client who had called me in crisis. She reached out to me for guidance about how to be with her six-year-old daughter who is dying from a brain tumour. I was up at the hospital to support this woman, her family and her daughter in these final hours.

Mark and I chatted briefly. Then he hugged me and laughed in a kindly way. ‘So, Nicole,’ he said, ‘it seems you’ve got your own flock after all, although I don’t know what qualifies you. You’re a minister without a church, without a God, without a pay packet. Meanwhile, I’ve got the gold watch, the all-expenses-paid trips to Rome, the superannuation and the bright future. I think you’ve got a bum deal. Best of luck, Sister Sinner.’

I could tell he meant it in the best possible way. I’m glad things worked out for him. I’ll keep him in my prayers and meditations.

Also, Mark, I know you’ll be reading this and I do know what qualifies me. Being human. Having empathy and kindness. Being present for others. Having a deep desire to serve. Devoting myself to this spiritual path, although it may not be one that you understand, and wanting to share this path with others so that it may bring them comfort and meaning.

There are more people on my particular path than you know. Maybe it’s a path that you would finally find meaning from too.

Much love to you, Sister Sinner xx

Hi! I'm Nicole Cody. I am a writer, psychic, metaphysical teacher and organic farmer. I love to read, cook, walk on the beach, dance in the rain and grow things. Sometimes, to entertain my cows, I dance in my gumboots. Gumboot dancing is very under-rated.
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12 thoughts on “The Minister and Sister Sinner

  1. You’ve brought me guidance and hope over the years, Nicole. In some of my darkest times you brought light back to my heart with your words, belief, encouragement, and spiritually empowering activities. I believe people like yourself can be an open channel of Godde’s Love. You ‘minister’ to our hearts. I believe we are all entirely made up of love and our purpose on Earth is to share that with one another. *hugs* Mia

  2. Dearest Nicole,
    Let Mark be very happy with what Life has offered him. What he might not have is the deep bond that we share with you. The freedom to love you, to laugh and cry with you from every part of this world. Thank you for being in our lives

    Love you loads

  3. Living and/or working without alignment to your values or integrity is a bum deal. You can not be happy or satisfied that your life has been well lived. I’ll put my lot in with you Nicole.

  4. There is always something that touches my heart in your writings Nicole…no matter what the subject. Thank you for your kindness, your humanity, your presence in the world.

  5. Sister Sinner? More like Sister Winner.
    You bring hope, love, comfort to all. It doesn’t matter if they have a specific religion or not.
    Earth Angel. An apt description.
    Please don’t change.

  6. Nicole, your sharing frequently touches my heart and brings tears to my eyes. Lovely. I am sending prayers to the little girl, her family and “Mark” as well. And love to you dear Nicole.

  7. Sending light and love to the girl and her family. I am glad you were there to support them.
    I am a health professional and have overheard ministers praying with patients who were nearing the end of life (yes, those bedside curtains are unfortunately not sound proof…). I sincerely hope that they truly connected with the patients on a religious level as for a person who lost her Catholic religion it was toe crinching to hear. I am grateful for all you do Nicole and to be able to be part of your flock. He might he have a gold watch, superannuation and trips to Rome, but am still wondering if he has the bum deal….. Maybe not on a material level, but is that what life is about? I don’t think so…. We all make our own choices, grateful we live in freedom so we can make our own choices…..

  8. Glitch from ‘above’ didn’t leave my previous comment and I trust in that. Fabulously inspiring post that reaffirms I am on the right path living my life to the best of my hearts desires. Love you to infinity and beyond MsSoulSister Nicole. Thank YOU Existence…XO

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