“Oh taste and see, that the Lord, He is good, and His mercy endureth forever.” Then, pulling out his silk powder blue handkerchief, which was folded with precision, creased with perfection, he snapped the handkerchief open and wiped the corner of his mouth. “Sister Montana. My, my, my, looking sweeter than a Georgia peach and prettier than the Rose of Sharon. The Bible says we must greet one another with a holy kiss.”

Rising to his feet, Curtis held my face while he kissed me once on one cheek. “Ain’t He good?” Shifting my face, he kissed me twice on the other cheek. “And the answer would be Yes Lord! Yessss Lord!!!” Breaking out into a brief holy dance, he quickly returned to his state of calm.

“Pastor Merewether, what a coincidence to see you here.”

“Sister Montana, what man calls coincidence is just God’s way of remaining anonymous. For the Bible says for everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens. Please, Sister, call me Curtis. Although I am a man of God, I am still a man. Born in sin, shaped in iniquity.”

Unable to remove his eyes from mine, he continued, very focused, ever intent on keeping all possible distractions at bay. “I pray God has kept you in His perfect peace.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ve been fine.” My cleavage, like a magnet, irresistibly drew his attention.

“Fine as cat hairs, that’s what I can see. And drinking a hearty supply of milk. Can the church say amen? Amen! And again, Amen! Whooo, Glory!”

“And how about you, Pastor—Curtis. You’re looking…bright.”

“Sister Montana, I’ll put it like this. I’ve had some good days and I’ve had some hills to climb. I’ve had some lonely days and some sleepless nights. But when I look around…Oh, I don’t think ya heard me. I said when I look around, and I start to think things over, all of my good days outweigh my bad days, and I won’t complain! God has been good to me. Oh, I wish I had a praying church; He has been good to me!”

Breaking out into an a cappella version of the gospel classic “I Won’t Complain,” Curtis quickly transformed the business class to business pews, converting a Muslim in coach, a Buddhist in first class, and a row full of Spanish-speaking passengers who appeared to be speaking in other tongues. Though it could have quite possibly been their neighboring tongue, so I wasn’t sure. At any rate, it was Curtis at his best. Lifting spirits, spreading joy, and not ever breaking a sweat.