A young man's laptop flickered that awful blue warning screen earlier in the day. "Aw shit." Rebooting it three times, and just long enough to save his sermons, he knew his computer literacy skills had met their maker. He knew neither how to fix it nor which new computer on the market would best suit his needs. Best Buy would likely be getting a priestly visit after 5pm.
That afternoon, only one person came to his confessional. A quiet young man entered and sat down. "So, I'm kinda a self-professed computer geek but I don't have real, um, I guess you'd say - social skills. So sometimes, I...will...lie...kinda."
"Go on."
"Well, to try and impress others, I'll say I'm a computer science grad, even though I have never taken a course in my life. I just, you know, get a good reaction from people. But I do really like trying to help'em, you know, give'em tech advice or fix their computers. But, I'm just sorta passin' off internet wisdom as my own."
Sitting up, the young priest cleared his throat. "Oh yes? And what wisdom would that be?"
"Okay so there's the latest gadget reviews on Gitgizmo.com and this awesome computer fix-it website called PCtechbytes.com, and--" He trailed off. "Sorry. I meant - just websites about computers and stuff like that."
Remaining as priestly as possible, the robed man leaned closer, interested, and tried to cloak his question as a whispered statement. "You said PC...tech...bytes. With a Y?"
"Yes sir. Um, I mean, yes Father."
Scribbling silently on his hand, the young priest spoke with quiet definition, under his breath. "God works in mysterious ways." Then, snapping back to his present duty, paused and whispered, "Ten Hail Marys and the Lord's Prayer. And child--"
"Yes Father?"
"Live in who you are, and ask the Lord to help you reach out - in honest fellowship with others."
"Thank you, Father," the young man said, speaking clearly with a new voice of confidence, and thinking about how this was the most talkative Father he's ever come across in confession.
"Your sins are forgiven, go in peace."
After the computer geek left, the priest laughed, said a prayer for forgiveness for talking so much, and went home with God-filled hope of fixing his own computer and saving himself a few bucks.
Only he realized - in order to search the internet to fix a broken computer, you first need: a computer that is, well - not broken.
Heading to Best Buy in street clothes just before 8pm that night, the young priest shook his head, a bit bummed with six hundred dollars of his hard earned cash in hand, and dismissed the notion of godly irony during his car conversation with God. "Of all Your infinite capabilities, bad jokes just happen to be one of them."
Suddenly, he broke hard right. Before he could complete his conversation, he whipped into a dark parking lot, lit by a small blinking red ticker tape sign: "Free PC Diagnosis! Free PC Diagnosis!"
Smiling at the blinking red God wink and His remarkable timing, the priest shut the engine off of his turquoise 95' Cavalier clunker and got out. It took him a decade and a slew of prayers for humility to drive that thing without cringing.
With only two other cars in the parking lot and the building light on, he knew he had just skidded in before closing time. With the side door open, reaching for his laptop, he saw it. Laying there - having flown off the backseat after the harsh right turn and strewn on the floor - was his computer, covered in - a full can of diet Coke, laying aside like an amused freshman prankster and rolling to a stop, completely empty with laughter. The priest, unlike the can, was not laughing.
"Hey, good timing. They're just about to close up shop."
Trying to subdue his anger, the priest turned around, slowly registering the young man's voice as the computer geek from confessional.
"You know what," the priest said, unable to hide his annoyance. "I think it's unfixable at this point. Thanks though." Tired and frankly, unamused by the coincidence, the priest said with half-interest, "So, you must work here."
"Oh no. No, sir, not me." The young man shook his head and pointed to the bank next door. "I'm just their janitor. But some nights I'll walk over, you know, stay late to talk shop with the owner, Jeffery. Guy's a tech genius, I swear. He kinda just fills me in about what's new on the market. My mentor, I guess you'd say." Waving off a smile, he said, "Not that I can afford any of it."
"Oh, gotcha," said the priest. "Well. Have a good night." He began to step into his car.
"But you know," interrupted the janitor. "I do like to fix computers on the side, or, at least try. I could take'a look at your computer for you, if you'd like." He tried as best he could to not look embarrassed, standing there in plain clothes and workboots.
"He's doing well," the priest thought to himself, remembering how the young man had described himself as having no real social skills. "It's not that he lacks social skills," he determined. "Just self-belief."
As the priest was about to respond to his offer, the janitor spoke up again. This time, with confidence. "I have to admit. So...," taking a deep breath and taking his hands out of his pockets, "I am no expert at computers. A lot of it is just me tinkering around, you know, working on old computers that people scrap and learning whatever I can off the internet, but it's fun and I'd do it for free. There's this one site - PCtechbytes.com that's really awesome."
"Oh yeah?" the priest said, a small smile appearing. "Is that bytes, with a Y?"
Feeling at ease now, the janitor chuckled. "That's really funny - you're actually the second person who's asked me that today."
Breaking into a huge grin, the priest felt the weight of anger leave his body. In its place, a tiny joy. "Oh, is that so."
After exchanging contact information, the priest handed over his Coke soaked computer. "Tell you what," he said. "If you're able to fix this bad boy, I'll pay you half of what I would have paid for a new computer." Shuffling dirt with his workboot, the janitor looked up. "Oh. No sir, but thanks. I mean, if I can fix it up for ya and you're happy, maybe you could refer me a friend or two." Thinking of his 1500 member congregation, his large office staff, and all his friends in the area who he knew from seminary, the priest nodded and smiled. "I can think of a friend or two."
Driving home, into the night, the priest thought about the janitor - about his confession and his humble repentance, and said a prayer for him. And he thought about God and His day-long joke, then laughed out loud at the punchline.
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