“Hi, Pastor! How are you?” She waved a glove from the other end of the parking lot. Pushing her shopping cart back to the front entrance of the supermarket, she wore a red parka from L. L. Bean. Her hair was pulled back in a hair band and her cheeks were flushed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to church this winter,” she said. “I bought a ski pass, and the lines are the shortest on Sunday morning.” I stood there with an artificial smile, trying my best to look cheerful. One of the frustrations of being a pastor who does not have free weekends is that I have to contend with those who do. “You ought to see the view from the top of that mountain,” she said, inadvertently rubbing it in. “It’s beautiful up there. Peaceful, too.” Then she said the line I’ve heard a hundred times. “To tell you the tru…