November 2 – “Lawyer”

Today Chris and I drove into Bay City to meet with her brother and the lawyer he selected to represent the siblings in the probating of her Mom's will.  It took us awhile to find the office.  Not because Chris didn't know her way around, though.  In fact we even called Kel and made sure we were at the right address.  It was just that the office was in one of those old restored buildings like the ones on the East End in Galveston.  There was no house number attached, but there was a simple wooden sign hanging from the front porch that said, "Attorney."  Quaint.   Chris' brother wasn't there yet when we drove up, so I got out to scope things out.  I opened the door to a really cool set up.  The foyer area was their reception desk, and there were four or five doors leading to the rest of the house from there.  No one was around, though, so I went back outside.  In a few minutes a guy came out and told me we were at the right place, and that he would be finished in a few minutes.  He said we could wait inside if we would like.  I thanked him and said we were waiting for someone else to get there.    Come to find out, our mystery greeter was the lawyer.  He was a fairly young guy, but seemed to be on the ball as far as knowing his stuff regarding probate law.  He was in the process of taking over his mother's practice so she could retire.  As a result he said a lot of his time has been spent dealing with family law, which was his mother's specialty, but his passion was with probate and real estate law.  His mother's first name was Timothy.  Interesting.  She wasn't around.  I would like to have met her.    I think he was struggling with which persona to use to relate to us, though.  Chris' brother owns a nursery in Victoria, Texas, so he is outside all the time.  He has that wizened, yet wise beyond his years look about him that made the lawyer feel like he could talk rough and tough and slangy.  But on the other side sat Chris, with her impeccable dress and sweet smile, tempered by the file folder and notebooks in her lap and the pen-at-the-ready attitude she brought to the table.  Oh, and there I was, sitting in between the two of them in the extra chair that I had to turn around from the other side of the room.  I was dressed in my Seaside Sunday morning finest attire – slacks, a polo shirt and white Nikes.  I think the odd mixture kind of threw him, so he had to forego choosing an appropriate mask to wear and just be himself.  Much better approach.    They went over the details of the case that they were aware of up to that point, and he did well as far as I could tell.  They signed him up and now they just have to wait for the next step, whatever that turns out to be.  I sure hope resolution can come quickly and with little stress.    On the way home I finished the demon book I have been reading.  It was a fiction book called Demon: A Memoir, by a lady named Tosca.  Took the perspective of a demon who gets frustrated and goes to a writer to get his story published, all without Satan and the rest of the demon horde finding out.  Interesting premise.  Not too bad as far as the story goes, either.  Theology is OK, but I had a bit of a problem with demons having the ability to read minds.  I think I could recommend it, though, if for nothing else than the questions raised about how demons must have felt when God condemned them without a second chance, but then God keeps giving humans chance after chance after chance.  Ouch.   1 Timothy 1:15-16 says, "Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners — of whom I am the worst.  But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life."   Father, thank you for loving me so much that you keep giving me chances.  I know I need them.  Amen.