The question of this church chick day is, “How do you get someone who asks for assistance to leave when they are not being especially obnoxious but they are clearly settling in for a long winter's nap?”
Well, this is your guide to extended stay visitors.
When they come in and follow the front desk person as she walks to your office to tell you someone is here for assistance, don’t panic. Bolt right out of your chair and jump across your desk so that you are blocking the threshold of your office so they will not enter, which would mean trapping in your own office which is not a good thing.
When they stand belligerently in the hallway, demanding to see the Senior Pastor and you know that he is only an open- door office away, and you know that this person, regardless of how many ways he tries to say he needs spiritual assistance, is really here for some money- well you put your Protect the Pastor hat on and you say, “So, tell me what's going on?”
That might get you nuthin’ or it might get you the beginning of an hour long explanation that includes vital statements such as, “I’m not on crack or heroin, and I’m not a drug dealer, and I don't go downtown.Society is out to get people, just like Police.” These enthusiastically offered statements might suggest that ,perhaps, he is not being truthful but don’t stop listening because as he continues rambling, it will give you a chance to notice that his teeth are slowly being eaten away (a characteristic side effect of meth consumption) and you may notice a white powder stuck on his nostril and lips which may or may not be confectioner's sugar.
If you stand your ground and keep listening, you might hear about how comfortable some laundromats are for sleepovers and how the police are against us all and the Caucasian population is not family friendly.
Use this last statement as an opening to say, “Let’s sit down.” Then stretch out your arms in a welcoming fashion and side step down the hall as if to lead and point to a better conversation spot while all the while you are really blocking the open -door office where your boss is working hard with another staff member to prepare some important info for an upcoming meeting.
If you can successfully make it past the door, and around the corner you can land your visitor in the lobby where he will continue to talk about things such as his problem with anger management that he is going to get under control without anybody's damn help, and how his parents died and he didn’t get enough of the inheritance and he works in construction but not now but he might someday even though he hasn’t actually- he thought about it and he won’t pay his parking tickets in another state so he can’t have a driver’s license until then but who cares because he drives a bike that is an expensive one but you can’t tell because it looks cheap but it is a ruse so it won’t be stolen it is really a very important bike or will be when he gets a new tire on it and the gears fixed and no he didn’t even get hurt when he was hit from behind by a Caucasian driver in yet another state once and then you might get a really detailed description with words and body language about his being rocketed into space and how he tumbled and which foot hit the hood right not left or maybe it was left but it felt right and he can get a truck and get other people to drive it.
As you listen intently, be on the lookout for the visitor to take a breath. It may not happen often, but it is a vital opportunity for you to say, “What do you need from us today?” If you miss your first opp, be prepared to listen for another 15 minutes about Ann landers and maturity and she can help you manage yourself when you are mad which police and other people, especially people in soup kitchens can not.
When you get lucky enough to interject the question, be prepared to get a multiple choice answer.
Food, money, cash, not grocery cards because when you ride with food bags on your handlebars, the police drive by and say, “Let’s rouse him” so you have to get food that you can eat right then but Kroger is the best.
By this point, you may go ahead and release the hold on your number one rule which is “see and copy identification, picture ID in particular” and go to your number one substitute rule in case of emergency which is “Give them a giftcard and help them move on” and then the back up back up number one substitute rule, “Give them the contents of the gum bowl if you have to.”
Be prepared to accept without comment when they pull out a worn out document that may or may not contain a SS number with no name. Don’t comment on the arrest papers that the visitor may give you to use as identification, even though he just told you he’s never been arrested. Accept it and go is a wise management skill in those moments.
Expect to have to “sell” this gift card since it may not be Kroger or cash. Do not think that by accepting the offer of a card it means that your visitor is indeed ready to leave. When you go to your office to get the card, you may want to take the opportunity to down a handful of tums. They work pretty quickly. Do NOT, however be overzealous in this remedy for tummy nerves. A large handful can leave you with a tums powder mustache which may resemble the visitor’s crack shadow. Probably not a good idea to bond on that level.
When you bring out the card, you may find the visitor on the church phone. Feel free to inform him that the phone is for business calls only, and don’t fret over being calmly firm, because there is every chance the visitor will respond with “I had a cell phone but the minutes are all gone and if I had 10 dollars I could buy more minutes,” At which time his dead cell phone may very well ring right there on the spot.
If this occurs, take a step back and bite your tongue. When his minute-less conversation runs into several minutes, resist the urge to point out that what he is talking on is indeed a miracle as it is a dead phone arisen and with minutes to boot.
When he hangs up, give him the gift card and make it clear that is all you have to offer him, but don’t think he is finished with you yet because after all that conversation, he just might want to rest a while.
He might want to rest a while in the chair where he has been parked all this time because there is now a comfy pressed- in spot that fits his physique just so.
This might be a good time to affirm his statement that he is going to stay and add to that a drop of reality with , “ Sure. It’s fine for you to stay for a few minutes. There are benches outside that are also very comfortable and as a matter of fact, it is such a lovely day that you may enjoy the fresh air after a few minutes out there.”
Consider taking the time to return to your office for more tums at this time. It is possible that you may have noticed this individual stands out a bit from other visitors requesting assistance. You might even recall the soft and intelligent voice of the serial killer in The Silence of The Lambs, but don’t give in to this assumption wholeheartedly. Many people share similar language and intonation. On the other hand, you might want to cut back a bit from watching Criminal Minds and Law and Order for a while.
After a few moments, return to the visitor and when he is off the phone that has no minutes yet again, you can try letting him know that it is nearly time to close. Ignore the fact that you are standing in a church that never really closes. When he says, “Oh, yeah. What time is it anyway? 4:00?” you can safely look at your watch and say, “No it is 3:30, but we close at 4 today.”
Ignore the reaction of the front desk receptionist, and ignore her silent mouthing to you, “We close at 4 today? Really? I get off an hour early?” Just blink those words away.
When he says, “sooo I can sit here another half hour?”
You can respond with, “You can sit her for 10 minutes because we have to close up the front desk.” Discard the confusion of the receptionist as she looks around the front desk for things that need closing up.
Go to the phone and call the maintenance super and say to him on the phone, “Hey, it’s time to close up now, you can come on up and lock the doors.”
When he responds with, “Wut? Why are we locking the doors? You know where the key is, don’t you? Closing early? We’ve got Bible studies tonight.” Just repeat in a calm and steady voice, what you have just said and then add, “You can COME UP HERE right now and lock up” and if you hit just the right notes, he may sigh with irritation and say to his partner, “women” and then to you, “okay, we’re coming.”
This is probably when the visitor will discover he needs to use the restroom.
Fight the urge to direct him to the shrubs outside. After all, you are the gardener at church and the plants won’t appreciate that a bit. Acknowledge with active listening, much as you did with your own children perhaps, when they were younger, “You need to use the restroom.” Try to keep away from a tone of disbelief.
When he stands up and, with confidence, heads to the restroom, you might say to yourself, “Self, he knows where it is. He seems very comfortable here, yet you have no record of any prior visits, perhaps he’s been here when you were not.”
This is another good time to finish off the tums bottle. When he leaves the restroom, take note that he may not backtrack, but he may feel a sense of adventure and might decide to explore the other half of the building. If this happens, the maintenance men may be able to herd him toward the front door.
Offer to help him get his bike outside and alert him to the fact that the Thanksgiving food collection box is not for shopping, and didn’t he say something about bags of food on the handlebars were a red flag for police to rouse him? Then, sidestep quickly so as not to be hit with his quiet rage.
When he has actually exited the building, you might discover that your intuition about this visitor was on target. You might discover he has been to the church on other occasions, and you might also discover that contrary to his strong insistence that he has not ever been arrested, he has a record for violent crimes in another state. Multiple arrests. This information can help you to trust your gut next time and not feel guilty about judging his needs.
Remind yourself that you try very hard to help people who come into the church and that the world is full of people who need food help and people who just need help leaving the premises.
Showing posts with label assistance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label assistance. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Methodist tomatoes
Update on the front work churchyard gardens- The tomatoes and peppers have moved on to another part of their life cycle, and the broccoli plants look comfortable as they are getting their roots settled in.
A couple of weeks ago, an assistant person came in determined not to leave empty handed. I know this sounds harsh, but this particular visitor is a regular. He comes so often that he can now follow his own worn footpath in the lobby carpet from the front door to the chair. He is cheerful and desperate at the same time. Sometimes he looks 76 and other times he looks 40 so I have no idea what his true age is, and the day of copying his license has long since passed.
When he is sober and lucid, I try to figure out what of his needs we can help with but more often than not, he comes in reeking of smoke and old beer. I sit down with him and listen for a while before helping him out the door. He is most interesting and full of stories.
Billy Ray is famous in some parts around I-95 where he prayed with Billy Graham as the Reverend came through a truck stop where Billy Ray just happened to be resting. Billy Ray and Billy Graham had many things in common you know. They both had the same name, and frequented the same truck stop to pray. Those were the good days.
He’s had liver disease so bad his liver has been replaced 2 times and nearly 3 but they took his gallbladder instead and snatched his appendix while they were shopping around in there. There, being his gut. He’s had open heart surgery several times “before open heart was even known around here”.
On this particular day, Billy Ray was about to have yet another surgery. Bypass, even though he’s had more bypasses than the beltline in town. His doctor told him to eat fresh fruits and vegetables and to walk 7 blocks and rest. Just like that. 7 blocks and rest. 7 blocks and rest. I found it interesting that we were on the “rest” end of that exercise regime. He reminded me that everythin’ happens fer a reason. I don’t doubt it, well, not on that day.
I told Billy, as I had on many other occasions, where the food pantry was- a couple of miles away, and then he asked for a gas card.
I reminded him of his doctor’s strict orders to walk 7 and rest. He didn’t look too thrilled at the reminder.
I asked him if he liked tomatoes and he brightened right up.
“Well, come on, then, with me.” And I headed out the front door.
He followed , but with caution and a little bit of concern- or it seemed so to me.
When we got outside, I climbed over the flowers and felt around the veggie plants and came up with 4 tomatoes and a bell pepper. He looked as he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
I stood up. “There! Now, here, hold your hands together like a bowl, like this.”
He did.
I filled his hands with the veggies. “ You can’t get any fresher than that, can you?” I beamed.
“ Uh, no I guess not.”
“ Okay, now, there you go. Probably ought to get back to your walking and resting. You know what your doctor said.”
He walked across the grass and started along the sidewalk.
“Hey Billy Ray! That’s the best tomato you’ll ever eat! It’s a Methodist mater!”
He held up his hands –of- plenty and kept walking.
A couple of weeks ago, an assistant person came in determined not to leave empty handed. I know this sounds harsh, but this particular visitor is a regular. He comes so often that he can now follow his own worn footpath in the lobby carpet from the front door to the chair. He is cheerful and desperate at the same time. Sometimes he looks 76 and other times he looks 40 so I have no idea what his true age is, and the day of copying his license has long since passed.
When he is sober and lucid, I try to figure out what of his needs we can help with but more often than not, he comes in reeking of smoke and old beer. I sit down with him and listen for a while before helping him out the door. He is most interesting and full of stories.
Billy Ray is famous in some parts around I-95 where he prayed with Billy Graham as the Reverend came through a truck stop where Billy Ray just happened to be resting. Billy Ray and Billy Graham had many things in common you know. They both had the same name, and frequented the same truck stop to pray. Those were the good days.
He’s had liver disease so bad his liver has been replaced 2 times and nearly 3 but they took his gallbladder instead and snatched his appendix while they were shopping around in there. There, being his gut. He’s had open heart surgery several times “before open heart was even known around here”.
On this particular day, Billy Ray was about to have yet another surgery. Bypass, even though he’s had more bypasses than the beltline in town. His doctor told him to eat fresh fruits and vegetables and to walk 7 blocks and rest. Just like that. 7 blocks and rest. 7 blocks and rest. I found it interesting that we were on the “rest” end of that exercise regime. He reminded me that everythin’ happens fer a reason. I don’t doubt it, well, not on that day.
I told Billy, as I had on many other occasions, where the food pantry was- a couple of miles away, and then he asked for a gas card.
I reminded him of his doctor’s strict orders to walk 7 and rest. He didn’t look too thrilled at the reminder.
I asked him if he liked tomatoes and he brightened right up.
“Well, come on, then, with me.” And I headed out the front door.
He followed , but with caution and a little bit of concern- or it seemed so to me.
When we got outside, I climbed over the flowers and felt around the veggie plants and came up with 4 tomatoes and a bell pepper. He looked as he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
I stood up. “There! Now, here, hold your hands together like a bowl, like this.”
He did.
I filled his hands with the veggies. “ You can’t get any fresher than that, can you?” I beamed.
“ Uh, no I guess not.”
“ Okay, now, there you go. Probably ought to get back to your walking and resting. You know what your doctor said.”
He walked across the grass and started along the sidewalk.
“Hey Billy Ray! That’s the best tomato you’ll ever eat! It’s a Methodist mater!”
He held up his hands –of- plenty and kept walking.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Bulbs for Easter continued
A person came in for some assistance. One of my jobs is to work with people who come in for help. I call them Avon people because at home church these folks have to ring the bell to come in. At work church, there is no doorbell, but i sort of hear it in my head when they enter. This is a very challenging part of my work. I think to myself with every person I talk to, "This could be me...in one day, this could be me. One month late on my rent, and this could be me. An extended illness, an expensive car repair, and I become an Avon person." Being a single parent has put financial security in a space ship and has sent that concept into outer space.
The reality of helping our Avon people is that some people really do need help, and others are just working the system. Since I am not in a position to judge the difference, I've come up with a system that helps me decide what we can do to empower rather than enable. The system is simple. It is the same system that I relied on to help me understand my children when they were teenagers. I ask questions. and I listen.
I guess I could write a whole long story about assistance but i really only need to say that on this day, someone who really needed help came in seeking it. We talked, and I gave what I thought we needed to, and then I gave him resource suggestions to help him find more help. He, like many, asked what he could do to pay us back. Most of the time, this is a question that comes from a sense of pride, and most of the time, all of the time since I've been doing this, the question evaporates when they walk out the door.
This man sounded like he really wanted to do something to repay us. I told him to let that go, and that is what we are here for. Then, I paused. I knew he had been a working man until recently, and I knew he was in his mid 40's and had an unexpected heart ailment and I knew that major heart surgery often brings depression with the recuperation. I thought how helpless it must feel to suddenly, literally over night be without independence. So, I said, " Well, I'm planting bulbs in a week, do you want to help?" and he said, yes.
I didn't expect him to return and he didn't the next week. But- he called and asked for a raincheck, so I gave him one and lo. LO! Friday morning, there he is sitting on the bench in the lobby waiting for me.
I told him I was so glad to see him, and that I really just wanted the company, I didn't want him to think he was going to be working for the help we had given him. He was shocked. I said it would be the biggest favor to me if he could help me by being with me while I dug. So, together, we went outside and he snipped open the bags of bulbs and I planted them. The 700 planted bulbs grew to 1,000. ( FYI: If they don't grow, I'll deny this entire series)We chatted, he seemed to need to talk, and doing a simple mindless task such as repetitive planting is a good, safe way to just chat. I took him up the street for lunch later and left him there with a friend to take him home; both of us feeling a little better about the world.
So, the idea- the great idea my boss had that sounded so simple showed its true colors. Planting bulbs has already turned into planting good things with others. See how smart that man is??
The reality of helping our Avon people is that some people really do need help, and others are just working the system. Since I am not in a position to judge the difference, I've come up with a system that helps me decide what we can do to empower rather than enable. The system is simple. It is the same system that I relied on to help me understand my children when they were teenagers. I ask questions. and I listen.
I guess I could write a whole long story about assistance but i really only need to say that on this day, someone who really needed help came in seeking it. We talked, and I gave what I thought we needed to, and then I gave him resource suggestions to help him find more help. He, like many, asked what he could do to pay us back. Most of the time, this is a question that comes from a sense of pride, and most of the time, all of the time since I've been doing this, the question evaporates when they walk out the door.
This man sounded like he really wanted to do something to repay us. I told him to let that go, and that is what we are here for. Then, I paused. I knew he had been a working man until recently, and I knew he was in his mid 40's and had an unexpected heart ailment and I knew that major heart surgery often brings depression with the recuperation. I thought how helpless it must feel to suddenly, literally over night be without independence. So, I said, " Well, I'm planting bulbs in a week, do you want to help?" and he said, yes.
I didn't expect him to return and he didn't the next week. But- he called and asked for a raincheck, so I gave him one and lo. LO! Friday morning, there he is sitting on the bench in the lobby waiting for me.
I told him I was so glad to see him, and that I really just wanted the company, I didn't want him to think he was going to be working for the help we had given him. He was shocked. I said it would be the biggest favor to me if he could help me by being with me while I dug. So, together, we went outside and he snipped open the bags of bulbs and I planted them. The 700 planted bulbs grew to 1,000. ( FYI: If they don't grow, I'll deny this entire series)We chatted, he seemed to need to talk, and doing a simple mindless task such as repetitive planting is a good, safe way to just chat. I took him up the street for lunch later and left him there with a friend to take him home; both of us feeling a little better about the world.
So, the idea- the great idea my boss had that sounded so simple showed its true colors. Planting bulbs has already turned into planting good things with others. See how smart that man is??
Monday, October 01, 2007
What do you call it when..
What does it mean when people who come in for assistance bond with the church secretary?
A regular person who comes often, has really made himself at home here. He now calls me by my first name, and is often waiting in my office for me. He offers to help me carry my goods when I’m coming in. He doesn’t’ always ask for food or money. Sometimes, he gives me an update on how things are going. I like those times a lot. This week, he directed the oven fixers to the church kitchen when they arrived.
I came in, after having noticed the workvan out front. Instead of the ovenmen, this assistance person greeted me when I came in. I said, “Did you happen to see the oven guy?”
He answered, “Oh, yeah, I just showed them where the kitchen is.”
We walked together down the hall and into my office where he sat, very patiently.
“ So how are things going?” I asked him.
“ Don’t you want to check your messages and put down your things?” he asked me, getting more comfortable in the recliner.
“ Uh, oh. Yeah. Okay.” So I did.
“ Now, how are things?”
“Well….” He leaned back and proceeded to give me the Dr. Kildare details of his recent hernia operation…just short of showing me the scars.
And then, he was off.
“See you next time, friend”
he kept walking and gave me a quick wave.
What do you call that?
Church Chick
A regular person who comes often, has really made himself at home here. He now calls me by my first name, and is often waiting in my office for me. He offers to help me carry my goods when I’m coming in. He doesn’t’ always ask for food or money. Sometimes, he gives me an update on how things are going. I like those times a lot. This week, he directed the oven fixers to the church kitchen when they arrived.
I came in, after having noticed the workvan out front. Instead of the ovenmen, this assistance person greeted me when I came in. I said, “Did you happen to see the oven guy?”
He answered, “Oh, yeah, I just showed them where the kitchen is.”
We walked together down the hall and into my office where he sat, very patiently.
“ So how are things going?” I asked him.
“ Don’t you want to check your messages and put down your things?” he asked me, getting more comfortable in the recliner.
“ Uh, oh. Yeah. Okay.” So I did.
“ Now, how are things?”
“Well….” He leaned back and proceeded to give me the Dr. Kildare details of his recent hernia operation…just short of showing me the scars.
And then, he was off.
“See you next time, friend”
he kept walking and gave me a quick wave.
What do you call that?
Church Chick
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Assistance is part of the job
My home church offers back door snack bags and bus tickets two hours a week. I used to help with that before I came over to work church. I got to know several of the “regulars” so when those same faces began appearing at work church, well, we were both surprised. Now, that time has passed those few regulars are not so surprised. Most of them, anyway.
There is a woman who has become very confused because on occasion, I will still volunteer to help at home church and on those days, many of them, she has appeared, only to wonder for a brief second which church she is approaching because I am there when maybe I should be across the way at work church. Or maybe SHE is at work church, or maybe who’s on first…. The church secretary, (me) at work church has helped her on enough occasions that she calls me by my first name, and when I gave her the news that we could not help her anymore ( because we had offered our limit) she continued calling just to ask me if enough time had passed yet. Or yet, or yet. Finally, one day, she called and just said, “are you every going to help me again?” And I had to say, probably not. That is hard. But I find that there are times when the consideration of enabling comes to mind and I try to back away from that trap. She still waves at me when I drive by the bus stop, but she has finally stopped calling.
Another regular has taken to coming by about every 2 or 3 weeks just to tell me how things are or are not going. He doesn’t always ask for money. Sometimes he asks for marital advice, and , although I have told him countless times that I am the CHURCH SECRETARY, not the PASTOR, he still comes to talk. So, I’ve just accepted the fact that he needs a listener. The two times he actually made appointmenst with the pastor, he didn’t show. I may have written of that here. Anyway, we are, in his eyes, best buds, I guess. Yesterday, I found a note from him in my mail cubbie that said, “ Melardy, ( well, he got part of it right, the Mel) (his name) Hi. I came by to talk to you but missed you. I’ll stop by later, (his name)
Just like a note I’d leave for my office neighbor, or for the pastor, only it is from a man I don’t know at all and at the same time, I know enough.
Once, I came back from lunch to find a woman in a motorized wheel chair. She was parked right in the doorway of the Fellowship Hall where she could stay up to speed on the comings and goings of work church. I talked to her, and found that there wasn’t anything we could really do for her. She was appalled. She did not realize that helping her purchase furniture was not in the job description of assistance help from us. I apologized for the misunderstanding – to no avail- and finally gave up trying to explain the difference between the priority need of having your power cut off vs. buying a new couch. She was very angry and I returned to my office. A few minutes later, I found her still parked in the doorway of the fellowship hall. Her face held that grimace I had just walked away from moments ago. I got the courage to approach her anyway.
“ Mrs. Smith, is there something else I can do for you today? I have already explained to you about the furniture.” Right about then, a buzzer buzzed and she leaned over and pulled a plug from the wall. “ I thought the least you could do is recharge my chair. I’ll be on my way, now.”
And off she went.
Friday, September 29, 2006
The People on the Bus
I get to meet lots of people working in my job. .....Church members, service workers, and small children, deliciously interesting olderpeople, and complete strangers. Yes, I get it all. many people disguise their angel wings with clothes,but know that between you and me, I can see their glimmer through fabric. My office pals shine the best. One friend calls me when she is on her way into work nearly every morning, and she sounds like she is glad to hear me answer. Even now, she still sounds that way. It's a good thing.
Another work friend, always stops by on her way to her upstairs office. She's been bringing baby along for the last several months, but it is just now starting to show. I'll be glad when I get to know that baby outside of the ultrasound pics as they just don't do her justice.
Another friend works odd times, and so it is always a surprise to see her. We share a liking for hot dogs and crinkle cut fries. I have a new friend who pops in for a quick sit and I love those times.
Work people aside, I'm here to point to a few special Avon families that I have come to know.
We have a woman who frequents our premesis. She also visits my home church, as we are not far from each other. Here, she knows me as pretty stingy. I don't give help to her too often because I don't think she really qualifies as an Avon person. She's more of a teenager mindset avon person which is to say that she needs everything everyone else has, and wants more of it and wants it NOW. I understand that thinking, but it isn't very feasible when you think about it. So when she comes in these days, she doesn't expect much anymore. We're on a first name basis. She doesn't come as often, hoping that stretching out her requests may give her a higher yield. I hope she'll figure out the reality soon.
This week, I was at home chuch, waiting to speak to my mentor home pastor, and the church phone rang. I answered. I immediately recognized the voice on the other end. It was Alma. the aforementioned avon person. She asked for "Pastor WW, or Miss YY". Then she stopped in mid-syllable. " Who am I speaking with?" she asked, warily.
I responded with, " Who am I speaking with?"
She lowered her voice. " Melanie?"
I answered. " Hi Alma."
Suddenly she had other things to do. Gosh, I hate we missed an opp to chat.
A man came in to talk turkey. We talked. I gave he and his wife the help I could. They left.
The same man came in again, and we talked again. It wasn't long before I realized that he didn't need money. He needed a Pastor. or maybe a beer buddy. " Maybe we should make an appointment with the Pastor for you? " He looked confused. " Well, okay. When do you want to talk again?" I was under the distinct impression that he thought I was a Pastor. Stop laughing.
I may be pasteurized, but I am NO Pastor. " Let's go look in the Pastor's calendar and find a time" He came along comfortably, but he never stopped talking about the whims and ways of his relationship. We made the appointment. He ditched it.
A week later, he came back. " Let's make that appointment, Melanie" he said to me.
"Bernard, you missed your appointment with the Pastor. I am disappointed because he has a lot of wisdom he could share with you, and I really wish you had called to tell us you could not make it."
Bernard hung his head. " Well, I really just wanted to tell him about the woman. She couldn't come that day, if we make another appointment, I'll get her here. But we want you there, too."
I finally had to come clean with him. " Bernard, in case you haven't noticed, I'm the church secretary. I'm not the Pastor, not even close. Heck, I don't even pray that good. You really need to share your story with him." Bernard said that his wife wanted me there, too. I'm thinking that maybe she just wants to talk girltalk? OH, good grief. I guess we'll see. Let's hope they don't ask me to pray.
My most favorite visiting friend is a schitzofrenic who I have known before and after meds.
The first time he came he was hearing voices and he was hungry. I took himback to the kitchen, got him a plate of lunch and sat with him while he ate. " So, Marvin, are you hearing them now?
"Yeah"
" Do you know that they are not real?"
" Yeah, can I have another tea?"
"Sure." "So what are you hearing now?"
" A woman. She is screaming for help. She is on the floor and screaming for help"
I thought a minute. " Marvin, are you sure you are hearing this now, NOW, and not a , let's say a half an hour ago?" At this, Marvin stopped and looked right at me.
" Yeah, Marvin. I'm better now. I just brushed myself off and got on with my day."
He looked at me. Looked me over. Saw my dusty knees, and random hair. " So you doing better now?" I patted him on the shoulder and answered. " "Yes, I am. Sometimes it's nice to know you've been heard, though. Hey, want another potato?"
I think he was relieved in some ways at my response. Then again, he may be thinking he is a time traveller and hears realities that are 30 minutes behind real time. No telling.
The next time I saw Marvin he was cleaned up and clearer in the eyes. I hope he can stay that way, but I'd have another sit down with him at lunch any day.
Yep, lots of people around this place. Lots.
Another work friend, always stops by on her way to her upstairs office. She's been bringing baby along for the last several months, but it is just now starting to show. I'll be glad when I get to know that baby outside of the ultrasound pics as they just don't do her justice.
Another friend works odd times, and so it is always a surprise to see her. We share a liking for hot dogs and crinkle cut fries. I have a new friend who pops in for a quick sit and I love those times.
Work people aside, I'm here to point to a few special Avon families that I have come to know.
We have a woman who frequents our premesis. She also visits my home church, as we are not far from each other. Here, she knows me as pretty stingy. I don't give help to her too often because I don't think she really qualifies as an Avon person. She's more of a teenager mindset avon person which is to say that she needs everything everyone else has, and wants more of it and wants it NOW. I understand that thinking, but it isn't very feasible when you think about it. So when she comes in these days, she doesn't expect much anymore. We're on a first name basis. She doesn't come as often, hoping that stretching out her requests may give her a higher yield. I hope she'll figure out the reality soon.
This week, I was at home chuch, waiting to speak to my mentor home pastor, and the church phone rang. I answered. I immediately recognized the voice on the other end. It was Alma. the aforementioned avon person. She asked for "Pastor WW, or Miss YY". Then she stopped in mid-syllable. " Who am I speaking with?" she asked, warily.
I responded with, " Who am I speaking with?"
She lowered her voice. " Melanie?"
I answered. " Hi Alma."
Suddenly she had other things to do. Gosh, I hate we missed an opp to chat.
A man came in to talk turkey. We talked. I gave he and his wife the help I could. They left.
The same man came in again, and we talked again. It wasn't long before I realized that he didn't need money. He needed a Pastor. or maybe a beer buddy. " Maybe we should make an appointment with the Pastor for you? " He looked confused. " Well, okay. When do you want to talk again?" I was under the distinct impression that he thought I was a Pastor. Stop laughing.
I may be pasteurized, but I am NO Pastor. " Let's go look in the Pastor's calendar and find a time" He came along comfortably, but he never stopped talking about the whims and ways of his relationship. We made the appointment. He ditched it.
A week later, he came back. " Let's make that appointment, Melanie" he said to me.
"Bernard, you missed your appointment with the Pastor. I am disappointed because he has a lot of wisdom he could share with you, and I really wish you had called to tell us you could not make it."
Bernard hung his head. " Well, I really just wanted to tell him about the woman. She couldn't come that day, if we make another appointment, I'll get her here. But we want you there, too."
I finally had to come clean with him. " Bernard, in case you haven't noticed, I'm the church secretary. I'm not the Pastor, not even close. Heck, I don't even pray that good. You really need to share your story with him." Bernard said that his wife wanted me there, too. I'm thinking that maybe she just wants to talk girltalk? OH, good grief. I guess we'll see. Let's hope they don't ask me to pray.
My most favorite visiting friend is a schitzofrenic who I have known before and after meds.
The first time he came he was hearing voices and he was hungry. I took himback to the kitchen, got him a plate of lunch and sat with him while he ate. " So, Marvin, are you hearing them now?
"Yeah"
" Do you know that they are not real?"
" Yeah, can I have another tea?"
"Sure." "So what are you hearing now?"
" A woman. She is screaming for help. She is on the floor and screaming for help"
I thought a minute. " Marvin, are you sure you are hearing this now, NOW, and not a , let's say a half an hour ago?" At this, Marvin stopped and looked right at me.
" Yeah, Marvin. I'm better now. I just brushed myself off and got on with my day."
He looked at me. Looked me over. Saw my dusty knees, and random hair. " So you doing better now?" I patted him on the shoulder and answered. " "Yes, I am. Sometimes it's nice to know you've been heard, though. Hey, want another potato?"
I think he was relieved in some ways at my response. Then again, he may be thinking he is a time traveller and hears realities that are 30 minutes behind real time. No telling.
The next time I saw Marvin he was cleaned up and clearer in the eyes. I hope he can stay that way, but I'd have another sit down with him at lunch any day.
Yep, lots of people around this place. Lots.
Money Matters
Money Matters-
It didn't take long after I had started this job to realize that I might be involved in the Avon People. Avon is a name I decided to call folks who come in for assistance. At my home church they ring a doorbell. There was a time that I helped with that ministry andthat's what I decided to call the assistance calls. It paints a more pleasant picture of a hard fact of life. Here, at work church, we have no doorbells. People needing help don't rely on doorbells to be heard.
I hold a lot of empathy for people in need. Whether emotional, monetary, spiritual, I'm one of those people on a daily basis. I need to have people around me who I trust, I need to feel adequate at my job. I need a life. need need need.
I want our assistance offering to be available to families who truly are in need. How nice is it tobe able to offer spiritual fuel and a tank full of gas in the same sitting? Yes, possibilities when there are none to be found sounds like a good God thing to me. It doesn't make me feel good, but it does make me feel as if we can provide tools to others so that they can stay on a path of possibilities.
I meet and get to know some very interesting folks. That story will follow this one today.
This particular entry is to give examples of the state of my middle aged human condition. It used to be, when I first started working the Avon Ministry, that I offered snack bags to visitors. I have found that if you are truly needing food, you will accept food. On the other hand, if you are truly wanting cold cash, food won't do, even if you've used that ( I need food) line with me. So, the snack bags act as a screen. I borrowed the idea from my home church who now gives out 30 or 50 bags a day, in a two hour block. Home church resides in a hungry neighborhood.
After a while, I found that additional resources like gas, or a few bucks would come in handy at times,maybe someone needed their meds, or money for the bus. So, I asked if we could buy bus tickets, and store cards to cover incidentals. That works great. I am careful about giving them out, but when I feel like they can help, they are passed out with ease.
Still, there were many times when eviction notices called for a check or, a cut off notice, security deposit. So we decided that i would be able to write a check to a third party- i.e. the electric company, or a landlord sometimes. This measure has helped speed along the process. I can't tell you how many times I've needed the Pastor's signature when he's right in the middle of saving someone's soul or sanity. When the Pastor is in, He's the go-to guy, but sometimes the avon people have to wait. That's okay.
The system is working pretty well with one exception. I tend to, out of habit, sign my own name when I write a check. I mean there is clearly a disconnect. Once I start writing, I complete the process. Then, the check has to be voided, and we start over again. I think we've spent more money in reordered checks than I have in the actual giving of funds . I am kidding of course, but it is irritating to me that I continue to play office with these checks, rendering them useless.
I've tried to come up with some strategies to help us save paper. Sometimes, I write the check title line and then put my pen down. I find that overall, this stopaction creates anxiety in the person sitting across from me. Their relief when the checkbook comes out quickly dissipates when I put the pen down. Eyebrows furrow, tears well. ... Once I pick up the ink again, everything rests. Rests, until I jerk back into my chair, plop my pen down on the desk and mutter, " Rats! Criminy! UGH!" These comments are followed by a quick tear out and tear up of the now- useless check.
The visitors lose their sense of relief- go straight into a second round of anxious anticipation; I begin writing a new check and the cycle starts all over again. Recently, I 've decided that this system may have some hidden value. If it is too nervewracking , maybe we'll have fewer requests, and secondly, maybe I should ask the Pastor if we can start giving out valium. That might make all parties feel better.
I don't know what we'll do when checks are outdated, when debit cards are the only way to go. Guess we'll deal with that when it comes around. This, my friends, is yet another example of how fortunate I am that my bosses are tolerant of their church chick.
It didn't take long after I had started this job to realize that I might be involved in the Avon People. Avon is a name I decided to call folks who come in for assistance. At my home church they ring a doorbell. There was a time that I helped with that ministry andthat's what I decided to call the assistance calls. It paints a more pleasant picture of a hard fact of life. Here, at work church, we have no doorbells. People needing help don't rely on doorbells to be heard.
I hold a lot of empathy for people in need. Whether emotional, monetary, spiritual, I'm one of those people on a daily basis. I need to have people around me who I trust, I need to feel adequate at my job. I need a life. need need need.
I want our assistance offering to be available to families who truly are in need. How nice is it tobe able to offer spiritual fuel and a tank full of gas in the same sitting? Yes, possibilities when there are none to be found sounds like a good God thing to me. It doesn't make me feel good, but it does make me feel as if we can provide tools to others so that they can stay on a path of possibilities.
I meet and get to know some very interesting folks. That story will follow this one today.
This particular entry is to give examples of the state of my middle aged human condition. It used to be, when I first started working the Avon Ministry, that I offered snack bags to visitors. I have found that if you are truly needing food, you will accept food. On the other hand, if you are truly wanting cold cash, food won't do, even if you've used that ( I need food) line with me. So, the snack bags act as a screen. I borrowed the idea from my home church who now gives out 30 or 50 bags a day, in a two hour block. Home church resides in a hungry neighborhood.
After a while, I found that additional resources like gas, or a few bucks would come in handy at times,maybe someone needed their meds, or money for the bus. So, I asked if we could buy bus tickets, and store cards to cover incidentals. That works great. I am careful about giving them out, but when I feel like they can help, they are passed out with ease.
Still, there were many times when eviction notices called for a check or, a cut off notice, security deposit. So we decided that i would be able to write a check to a third party- i.e. the electric company, or a landlord sometimes. This measure has helped speed along the process. I can't tell you how many times I've needed the Pastor's signature when he's right in the middle of saving someone's soul or sanity. When the Pastor is in, He's the go-to guy, but sometimes the avon people have to wait. That's okay.
The system is working pretty well with one exception. I tend to, out of habit, sign my own name when I write a check. I mean there is clearly a disconnect. Once I start writing, I complete the process. Then, the check has to be voided, and we start over again. I think we've spent more money in reordered checks than I have in the actual giving of funds . I am kidding of course, but it is irritating to me that I continue to play office with these checks, rendering them useless.
I've tried to come up with some strategies to help us save paper. Sometimes, I write the check title line and then put my pen down. I find that overall, this stopaction creates anxiety in the person sitting across from me. Their relief when the checkbook comes out quickly dissipates when I put the pen down. Eyebrows furrow, tears well. ... Once I pick up the ink again, everything rests. Rests, until I jerk back into my chair, plop my pen down on the desk and mutter, " Rats! Criminy! UGH!" These comments are followed by a quick tear out and tear up of the now- useless check.
The visitors lose their sense of relief- go straight into a second round of anxious anticipation; I begin writing a new check and the cycle starts all over again. Recently, I 've decided that this system may have some hidden value. If it is too nervewracking , maybe we'll have fewer requests, and secondly, maybe I should ask the Pastor if we can start giving out valium. That might make all parties feel better.
I don't know what we'll do when checks are outdated, when debit cards are the only way to go. Guess we'll deal with that when it comes around. This, my friends, is yet another example of how fortunate I am that my bosses are tolerant of their church chick.
Money Matters
Money Matters-
It didn't take long after I had started this job to realize that I might be involved in the Avon People. Avon is a name I decided to call folks who come in for assistance. At my home church they ring a doorbell. There was a time that I helped with that ministry andthat's what I decided to call the assistance calls. It paints a more pleasant picture of a hard fact of life. Here, at work church, we have no doorbells. People needing help don't rely on doorbells to be heard.
I hold a lot of empathy for people in need. Whether emotional, monetary, spiritual, I'm one of those people on a daily basis. I need to have people around me who I trust, I need to feel adequate at my job. I need a life. need need need.
I want our assistance offering to be available to families who truly are in need. How nice is it tobe able to offer spiritual fuel and a tank full of gas in the same sitting? Yes, possibilities when there are none to be found sounds like a good God thing to me. It doesn't make me feel good, but it does make me feel as if we can provide tools to others so that they can stay on a path of possibilities.
I meet and get to know some very interesting folks. That story will follow this one today.
This particular entry is to give examples of the state of my middle aged human condition. It used to be, when I first started working the Avon Ministry, that I offered snack bags to visitors. I have found that if you are truly needing food, you will accept food. On the other hand, if you are truly wanting cold cash, food won't do, even if you've used that ( I need food) line with me. So, the snack bags act as a screen. I borrowed the idea from my home church who now gives out 30 or 50 bags a day, in a two hour block. Home church resides in a hungry neighborhood.
After a while, I found that additional resources like gas, or a few bucks would come in handy at times,maybe someone needed their meds, or money for the bus. So, I asked if we could buy bus tickets, and store cards to cover incidentals. That works great. I am careful about giving them out, but when I feel like they can help, they are passed out with ease.
Still, there were many times when eviction notices called for a check or, a cut off notice, security deposit. So we decided that i would be able to write a check to a third party- i.e. the electric company, or a landlord sometimes. This measure has helped speed along the process. I can't tell you how many times I've needed the Pastor's signature when he's right in the middle of saving someone's soul or sanity. When the Pastor is in, He's the go-to guy, but sometimes the avon people have to wait. That's okay.
The system is working pretty well with one exception. I tend to, out of habit, sign my own name when I write a check. I mean there is clearly a disconnect. Once I start writing, I complete the process. Then, the check has to be voided, and we start over again. I think we've spent more money in reordered checks than I have in the actual giving of funds . I am kidding of course, but it is irritating to me that I continue to play office with these checks, rendering them useless.
I've tried to come up with some strategies to help us save paper. Sometimes, I write the check title line and then put my pen down. I find that overall, this stopaction creates anxiety in the person sitting across from me. Their relief when the checkbook comes out quickly dissipates when I put the pen down. Eyebrows furrow, tears well. ... Once I pick up the ink again, everything rests. Rests, until I jerk back into my chair, plop my pen down on the desk and mutter, " Rats! Criminy! UGH!" These comments are followed by a quick tear out and tear up of the now- useless check.
The visitors lose their sense of relief- go straight into a second round of anxious anticipation; I begin writing a new check and the cycle starts all over again. Recently, I 've decided that this system may have some hidden value. If it is too nervewracking , maybe we'll have fewer requests, and secondly, maybe I should ask the Pastor if we can start giving out valium. That might make all parties feel better.
I don't know what we'll do when checks are outdated, when debit cards are the only way to go. Guess we'll deal with that when it comes around. This, my friends, is yet another example of how fortunate I am that my bosses are tolerant of their church chick.
It didn't take long after I had started this job to realize that I might be involved in the Avon People. Avon is a name I decided to call folks who come in for assistance. At my home church they ring a doorbell. There was a time that I helped with that ministry andthat's what I decided to call the assistance calls. It paints a more pleasant picture of a hard fact of life. Here, at work church, we have no doorbells. People needing help don't rely on doorbells to be heard.
I hold a lot of empathy for people in need. Whether emotional, monetary, spiritual, I'm one of those people on a daily basis. I need to have people around me who I trust, I need to feel adequate at my job. I need a life. need need need.
I want our assistance offering to be available to families who truly are in need. How nice is it tobe able to offer spiritual fuel and a tank full of gas in the same sitting? Yes, possibilities when there are none to be found sounds like a good God thing to me. It doesn't make me feel good, but it does make me feel as if we can provide tools to others so that they can stay on a path of possibilities.
I meet and get to know some very interesting folks. That story will follow this one today.
This particular entry is to give examples of the state of my middle aged human condition. It used to be, when I first started working the Avon Ministry, that I offered snack bags to visitors. I have found that if you are truly needing food, you will accept food. On the other hand, if you are truly wanting cold cash, food won't do, even if you've used that ( I need food) line with me. So, the snack bags act as a screen. I borrowed the idea from my home church who now gives out 30 or 50 bags a day, in a two hour block. Home church resides in a hungry neighborhood.
After a while, I found that additional resources like gas, or a few bucks would come in handy at times,maybe someone needed their meds, or money for the bus. So, I asked if we could buy bus tickets, and store cards to cover incidentals. That works great. I am careful about giving them out, but when I feel like they can help, they are passed out with ease.
Still, there were many times when eviction notices called for a check or, a cut off notice, security deposit. So we decided that i would be able to write a check to a third party- i.e. the electric company, or a landlord sometimes. This measure has helped speed along the process. I can't tell you how many times I've needed the Pastor's signature when he's right in the middle of saving someone's soul or sanity. When the Pastor is in, He's the go-to guy, but sometimes the avon people have to wait. That's okay.
The system is working pretty well with one exception. I tend to, out of habit, sign my own name when I write a check. I mean there is clearly a disconnect. Once I start writing, I complete the process. Then, the check has to be voided, and we start over again. I think we've spent more money in reordered checks than I have in the actual giving of funds . I am kidding of course, but it is irritating to me that I continue to play office with these checks, rendering them useless.
I've tried to come up with some strategies to help us save paper. Sometimes, I write the check title line and then put my pen down. I find that overall, this stopaction creates anxiety in the person sitting across from me. Their relief when the checkbook comes out quickly dissipates when I put the pen down. Eyebrows furrow, tears well. ... Once I pick up the ink again, everything rests. Rests, until I jerk back into my chair, plop my pen down on the desk and mutter, " Rats! Criminy! UGH!" These comments are followed by a quick tear out and tear up of the now- useless check.
The visitors lose their sense of relief- go straight into a second round of anxious anticipation; I begin writing a new check and the cycle starts all over again. Recently, I 've decided that this system may have some hidden value. If it is too nervewracking , maybe we'll have fewer requests, and secondly, maybe I should ask the Pastor if we can start giving out valium. That might make all parties feel better.
I don't know what we'll do when checks are outdated, when debit cards are the only way to go. Guess we'll deal with that when it comes around. This, my friends, is yet another example of how fortunate I am that my bosses are tolerant of their church chick.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Saving Souls
Today is the day someone decided would be the perfect day to jackhammer a hole in the brick wall that holds up my side of the building. I can fully understand why this particular day would be appealing to the jackhammerist. We held 3 Bible Studies this morning, had a men’s breakfast, and we were visited by a desperate person looking for assistance.
In addition, there were many counseling sessions taking place just across the hall- and anyone knows that there is nothing like the rip-tear of metal against brick to create a calming environment for deep personal discussions.
I had it easy, being the one who was conversing with the visitor who came to us in search of assistance. I know this particular person, and have noticed in our previous discussions, that he has a bit of trouble conversing or exchanging words that I can understand. So, communication without words was not a problem today. We have learned to use eyebrow chatter to convey our messages back and forth.
The people who climbed out of the depths of hell to work on the construction today resembled characters from old stories and movies I’ve seen. One was silent and wore a baseball hat. He was a Silence of the Lambs sort; hollow eyes and a gnawing in his gut for something human to consume. We didn’t talk much. Another looked like a cross between Rip Van Winkle and ZZ Top. They are genetically connected somewhere down the line. The third stooge was Moe, no question.
They dropped in this morning surrounded by a dull fog, which I later discovered was just a contrail of mortar dust from a previous job. They had reflective dust particles in their hair, and the Rip Van Winkle guy had a beard that tinkled. It was a little odd. As a group, they felt slightly radioactive to me, but not wanting to be rude, I didn’t mention it.
They went straight to work,pulling in all sorts of equipment and cords. They set up the area to look very much like a true construction site. It was impressive. No scaffolding, but nearly every other prop you could imagine created a realistic set. They measured, they stood, they looked, they looked at their watches, they waited.
During their prep time, I was inundated with questions. ….Why are there three men in the ladies’ rest room? What’s with the beard? Are they here to see the Pastor? Do they have the right church? What’s that smell? I noticed the Bible Study students begin to arrive for their classes about the same time the power equipment got dragged into the hallway. Need I say more? Timing is everything. And so the lilting melody began…..
I felt for the Pastor, though. He was working hard in his office doing quiet things. I said DOING QUIET THINGS. Meditation, working on sermons, and counseling.
His first appointment arrived and as they closed the door, I started to wonder…….I thought to myself, ‘What would it be like to be in there right now,?’ I imagined a person venturing in to see the Pastor for the very first time. They are a little bit intimidated, shy maybe, nervous. They have taken a long long time of thinking and deciding and finally, they decided to take the leap and go see the Pastor, the Mighty Pastor for some much needed comfort and advice. Maybe they’ve been unable to sleep for nights and nights because of the weight of their own personal burden. So, they meekly make their way into the Pastor’s cave and when they sit down they realize that their fears were for naught. The room is clearly filled with Christian love and kindness. They deepen their breathing a tad and let go a smidgeon.
The Pastor pulls his chair closer so that he can focus all of his attention on his congregant- in- need. It’s a Rockwell moment- A warm scene showing the support that can transpire between people. The visitor begins to talk, well, the visitor’s mouth opens. The Pastor leans a little closer, tilting his head and turning his ear toward the conversation and then- and then- the jackhammer begins singing its song. The sofa sitter is sent straight into the ceiling, and the Pastor continues to fall forward, right out of his chair. The noise stops abruptly and the two try again. Again, the jackhammer interrupts the confidential moment.
90 minutes later, the Pastor’s door opens, and he comes out with his eyes wide, eyebrows hang gliding over his head. Straight to the nut jar he goes.
“What’s tttttthhhhhaaaattttt nnoooiiissseee???” He vibrates. The nut jar is shaking in his hold, and it isn’t long before we have peanut butter.
I held his hands still around the jar and guided the jar of nut butter back down to its place on my desk. “So how was the appointment? I didn’t’ see him come out.”
“Every time he started to talk, the walls would tremble and the floor would shake and I couldn’t hear a thing.”
I thought a minute. “ Well, Is he hiding somewhere in your office?”
“ Heck, no. He climbed out the window a while ago, I saw him running down the sidewalk towards the Baptist church, I guess he’s going to try again down there.” He hung his head and trembled back towards his office.
I called after him,“Hey, boss- don’t sweat it, you did what you could, I’m sure you made a big difference just being there for him.”
“ Well, you can’t save ‘em all, I guess.” My disheartened boss went into his office, gently closing the door behind him. I stood and watched with a heavy heart. He’s a good guy, and a great listener. I watched as his door closed, and I watched as the doorknob fell out and onto the floor. Some days are better than others, I guess.
Church Chick
In addition, there were many counseling sessions taking place just across the hall- and anyone knows that there is nothing like the rip-tear of metal against brick to create a calming environment for deep personal discussions.
I had it easy, being the one who was conversing with the visitor who came to us in search of assistance. I know this particular person, and have noticed in our previous discussions, that he has a bit of trouble conversing or exchanging words that I can understand. So, communication without words was not a problem today. We have learned to use eyebrow chatter to convey our messages back and forth.
The people who climbed out of the depths of hell to work on the construction today resembled characters from old stories and movies I’ve seen. One was silent and wore a baseball hat. He was a Silence of the Lambs sort; hollow eyes and a gnawing in his gut for something human to consume. We didn’t talk much. Another looked like a cross between Rip Van Winkle and ZZ Top. They are genetically connected somewhere down the line. The third stooge was Moe, no question.
They dropped in this morning surrounded by a dull fog, which I later discovered was just a contrail of mortar dust from a previous job. They had reflective dust particles in their hair, and the Rip Van Winkle guy had a beard that tinkled. It was a little odd. As a group, they felt slightly radioactive to me, but not wanting to be rude, I didn’t mention it.
They went straight to work,pulling in all sorts of equipment and cords. They set up the area to look very much like a true construction site. It was impressive. No scaffolding, but nearly every other prop you could imagine created a realistic set. They measured, they stood, they looked, they looked at their watches, they waited.
During their prep time, I was inundated with questions. ….Why are there three men in the ladies’ rest room? What’s with the beard? Are they here to see the Pastor? Do they have the right church? What’s that smell? I noticed the Bible Study students begin to arrive for their classes about the same time the power equipment got dragged into the hallway. Need I say more? Timing is everything. And so the lilting melody began…..
I felt for the Pastor, though. He was working hard in his office doing quiet things. I said DOING QUIET THINGS. Meditation, working on sermons, and counseling.
His first appointment arrived and as they closed the door, I started to wonder…….I thought to myself, ‘What would it be like to be in there right now,?’ I imagined a person venturing in to see the Pastor for the very first time. They are a little bit intimidated, shy maybe, nervous. They have taken a long long time of thinking and deciding and finally, they decided to take the leap and go see the Pastor, the Mighty Pastor for some much needed comfort and advice. Maybe they’ve been unable to sleep for nights and nights because of the weight of their own personal burden. So, they meekly make their way into the Pastor’s cave and when they sit down they realize that their fears were for naught. The room is clearly filled with Christian love and kindness. They deepen their breathing a tad and let go a smidgeon.
The Pastor pulls his chair closer so that he can focus all of his attention on his congregant- in- need. It’s a Rockwell moment- A warm scene showing the support that can transpire between people. The visitor begins to talk, well, the visitor’s mouth opens. The Pastor leans a little closer, tilting his head and turning his ear toward the conversation and then- and then- the jackhammer begins singing its song. The sofa sitter is sent straight into the ceiling, and the Pastor continues to fall forward, right out of his chair. The noise stops abruptly and the two try again. Again, the jackhammer interrupts the confidential moment.
90 minutes later, the Pastor’s door opens, and he comes out with his eyes wide, eyebrows hang gliding over his head. Straight to the nut jar he goes.
“What’s tttttthhhhhaaaattttt nnoooiiissseee???” He vibrates. The nut jar is shaking in his hold, and it isn’t long before we have peanut butter.
I held his hands still around the jar and guided the jar of nut butter back down to its place on my desk. “So how was the appointment? I didn’t’ see him come out.”
“Every time he started to talk, the walls would tremble and the floor would shake and I couldn’t hear a thing.”
I thought a minute. “ Well, Is he hiding somewhere in your office?”
“ Heck, no. He climbed out the window a while ago, I saw him running down the sidewalk towards the Baptist church, I guess he’s going to try again down there.” He hung his head and trembled back towards his office.
I called after him,“Hey, boss- don’t sweat it, you did what you could, I’m sure you made a big difference just being there for him.”
“ Well, you can’t save ‘em all, I guess.” My disheartened boss went into his office, gently closing the door behind him. I stood and watched with a heavy heart. He’s a good guy, and a great listener. I watched as his door closed, and I watched as the doorknob fell out and onto the floor. Some days are better than others, I guess.
Church Chick
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