Some days are just like that

Over the last few weeks, I have collected notes of several little bits to share here, but it seems as if my time is being sucked through the walls of the church as I enter, and so, I find myself neglecting my blog. It makes me sad. Today, it is as nutz as ever in-house and I decided to just take a minute to babble anyway, so here I am.
I like this job. I like the variety. A co-worker was telling me in awe of watching some incredible show of trapeze artists who juggled chairs and plates and umbrellas and such.
She said, “How do they do all that?”
and I said, “They used to be a family of Church Secretaries”
I like this job because I get to see lots of people, moms, grandmoms, workmen, mail people, kids, birds, lots of different types of people, and I like it because every day is different. Even when the days are the same they are different. Sometimes the diversity overlaps and washes over me with a bit of a rip tide and when that happens, I find myself losing a little ground or grounding. I can tell this is happening when I hear my humor blurting out at obviously inappropriate moments. I am sad to say this very thing happened last week. Yes, it did indeed.
As a mom of four older daughters, I have learned to wear revolving hats. Each child has her own delightfully challenging personality and each requires a specific type of mom. I’m not always fitting into that puzzle, but I try. I think that counts, probably with a percentage off, but I think it counts anyway. So, this job appealed to me in part because I thought I could trade capes and caps in a hurry when needed. Sometimes the winds shift too fast and my hats blow away, leaving me to flounder for air.
Last week, the weather was cold and gray so my focus started out cloudy, foggy, unclear. When I came in, first thing, I was greeted by someone needing help. I had spent time with this person before and I quick-quick drew out my helping hat and helped. I had no sooner gotten ten steps closer to my office when a call came in for assistance as well. This person was really a pseudo-help case. A person who relies on the routine of calling me weekly to ask for assistance when they need it and when they don’t. I shifted my gears and had a caffeinated conversation and kept trying to make it to my desk.
One of my girls called in with school financial aid questions, and I managed that. Someone called in a person to add to the white board, a hospital entry. I started writing it and had passers by critique my choice of marker color and size, so I erased it a few times until the consensus was okay.
My Pastor-boss entered the building next. He starts his day at 78mph and then goes to Starbucks, before he gets to work, so you can imagine the level of activity he brings with him when he comes in. It’s a sight to see. He has more energy than a two year old on candy. And I love that about him. His creative mind is constantly at work. I can’t keep up. But it is fun trying. One exhausting day, I held up a white board in front of him and drew a circle.
“This is you in the am.” He stood watching, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He focused. He held tight to his starbucks and sipped quietly while he watched.
Then I drew another smaller and less rounded circle.
“This is me.” He nodded.
I drew a spiral and said, “This is your brain on Starbucks.” Istarted slowly and sped up my spiraling until the board was covered with spinning lines.
My circle was hidden within his spirals.
“So, where’s “YOU” now?” He asked, still sipping on his vanilla skinny latte.
I capped the marker and said, “My point exactly.”
The activity was useless as it just sparked some new idea or task for me to add to our list. The man’s a genius with a heart.
So, back to the crazy day. It was obvious that this day was going to be disjointed. I decided to find humor in the constant interruptions that were keeping me from finding the “real” to do’s of the day that were sitting in wait at my desk. Before I ever turned the door handle of my office door, the receptionist called me to come over.
“This lady wants to know if we have anyone here who would like to take a walking tour of the cemetery.”
“Cemetary tour?” “ You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, she’s right there and here’s a map.”
A young woman stood in the lobby holding a clipboard with pictures of graves and a map. She looked like she had been to the beauty parlor sometime in the last decade and the product had adhered to her hair follicles. Maybe she was a statue from the graveyard come to life. I approached with caution.
“ Thanks, but not today.”
She was prepared for such a reply and took it with grace. She smiled and I saw the mausoleum white of her teeth sparkle.
“ Just let me know when” and then she was gone.
I noticed a group of 50 or so older and wiser people sitting in the Fellowship Hall and I stepped in to see who it was. It was my favorite weekly meeting group of Seniors and senior- wannabe’s. They were playing bingo. I went in and said my hellos, then turned to leave.
It occurred to me that they were concentrating very hard on the game. Something came over me and I yelled, “BINGO!” The reaction was not what I had expected. I assumed they realized that since I was not playing Bingo, I couldn’t call out Bingo, but instead the crisp calling out on my part made everyone want to know who HAD Bingo, so they started looking around trying to determine the winner. The leader pointed to the exit door like a grim reaper and said, “ You’re not even playing, go. Out with you.”
It made me laugh.
Bingo to sick people to artistic writing, to helping to being a mom, to graveyard tours. All in a short morning. See why I like this job?




Church Chick