One Saturday night, the telephone rang. A friend was calling my wife: I'll be in Raleigh tomorrow attending Edenton Street Church. I cannot get there until eleven o'clock, so don't wait for me. I'll meet you in the narthex after the service. On Sunday morning I scanned the congregation from the pulpit, but I was never able to spot her. She had always been an attentive listener, and I needed the support I knew I could receive from that kind of listening. I finally concluded that something had interfered with her plans and she wasn't able to make the trip. After the service, by the time the last person had filed out the center aisle, I spotted her in a huddle with my family down front. They were busy chatting as I made my way toward them.