If it kept up like this he wasn't going to get anything done all morning. After the telephone calls, that paper-jam in the copier, and now this, he was beginning to feel that it was pointless to try.

She stepped into his office, "Sorry to interrupt you Reverend, I know you are busy, but I need to talk to you!" She went on to tell him about a problem a dear friend of hers was having, and how it would be really "nice" if the pastor could stop by for a visit sometime. Soon. He wanted to say that if people would just stop bothering him long enough to get his work done he would be glad to go out and visit, but he smiled instead and thanked her for stopping. She had gotten his attention. Four other members had stopped by in the last two days worried about the same couple. One of those worriers was even a son of the couple. He believed it was Shem, although he never could tell those three boys apart. And they all said the same thing. They were concerned about them. Well, not both of them exactly, mostly just about the husband.

And that wasn't all. Just yesterday, during his Kiwanis luncheon, the pastor overheard others at the table talking under their breath about how the old man had "gone off the deep end," and that, obviously, "retirement just didn't suit him well."

Apparently all that extra time on his hands had gotten to be more than he could handle. Somebody said it looked like "The old guy's oil didn't even register on the stick anymore!" The pastor couldn't help but chuckle along. It was all so strange.

The couple had made great plans for retirement. They would plant a huge garden, he would tend his roses, and they would take plenty of time for travel. But the only traveling he did was back and forth, to and from the lumberyard. In the backyard, the rose bed and the spot staked out for the garden, was covered over by this big, uh, wooden thing.

By the way, the guy down at the lumberyard felt a bit guilty about selling the old man all that lumber. And the nails. Noah was no carpenter, and bent more than he drove in. But the old man had made it clear that if he couldn't buy his materials there, he'd just get them someplace else, and, after all, business IS business.

But none of this was news to the pastor. He had been aware of what was going on for months. It had all started back that week when Noah told his Sunday school class (which he had taught for 27 years) about the dreams he had been having. Since that morning, a couple of class members had made it their mission to keep the pastor informed as to what was being taught. Each week it had become stranger and stranger, and the pastor had begun to wonder how to talk to the old man about retiring (without hurting his feelings) when one Sunday morning after class he walked right into the pastor's office and resigned. It seemed he just didn't have the time to prepare a lesson each week and still get enough work done on the "project." And, he said without a smile, "I'm almost out of time." It sounded a lot like this retirement was really getting him down.

But about this thing in the backyard. At first the neighbors were intrigued. They all thought it was kind of cute to see the old guy out there climbing around with his hammers and saws, although some mornings he started hammering way too early, and some evenings kept sawing way too late. And it was cute how his wife kept yelling at him about how she knew he was going to fall off the ladder and break every bone in his body.

And it was kind of fun to try and guess just what it was that he was hammering and sawing on. First, it was a deck for the yard, then a greenhouse for the roses, then a garage. By now they were betting on a very BIG greenhouse, but thought there really should be more windows. And no one could understand why he built it to look so dog-gone much like a boat, until someone remembered that his hometown had been over on the river and that it must bring back some pleasant memories for him.

But it was getting way too big. The cuteness was beginning to wear as thin as the sunlight that was getting to the neighbor's flowerbed. It seems that a windowless-greenhouse-shaped-like-a-big-boat casts one whale of a shadow. There definitely was a zoning problem. Those same neighbors had a backyard wedding set for next Monday afternoon for their only daughter, and this pile of wood cast its shadow all over those well-made, and highly-paid plans.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was the camels. And the elephants, and the chickens, and the lizards, and the penguins. Enough, after all, was most likely enough. When they asked about him moving the shadow the old man mumbled between nails "There just isn't time," which left them with no choice.

On Friday afternoon, the papers were filed at the courthouse. They would be served first thing Monday morning. The "Big Boat" as it had come to be called, would be dismantled and carried away in time before the big wedding. So would the old man. This later part was the reluctant decision of the old guy's family who felt that some time in a safe, peaceful setting might help him come to terms with the "stresses of retirement." Monday morning would come as quite a surprise. The family called to ask if the pastor would be there as well, to help them help him understand.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the surprise came one day early. It was midway through the second hymn on Sunday morning. "Crazy Old Noah" was sitting in his usual every-Sunday seat, with his family looking rather embarrassed as everyone smiled at them. The pastor closed his hymnbook and started to reach for his sermon notes. But right at the spot where folks usually sang "Amen," God sang instead. It was a bass note. It kind of rumbled around the sanctuary, and down the street outside the church, bouncing off the bank and the furniture store, just thundering its way to wherever thunder goes. And it started to rain. Now, you need to understand that it NEVER rains around here this time of year. But it was raining. Everyone got up and walked to the doors and windows to watch. The pastor saw old Noah just sit there in his seat. The old fool let out a big sigh, looked up at the preacher and said, "Time's up!"

All that the pastor could think as he looked around was that if this rain kept up like this there probably wasn't going to be any wedding tomorrow afternoon.

Now, every time I wade my way into the pulpit, I look around into the faces. One of these days ...

It may be a crazy, old, bearded man.
It may be a young, baby boomer, career woman.
It may be a middle-aged, slightly paunched, nobody.

But I know it as a certainty. One of these days, right in the middle of my full calendar and my printed order of worship, someone is going to look up at me and sigh, "Time's up!"