The new arrival

Framily. A friend shared that word with me. friends who are family. I have a ton of those. The flowers in the church yarden, the people I work with, church members who know me now and still come by my office for gum and chats, the mailman, people I yoga with, trees that wave me by on my regular walks... our copy machine...my cats....the list keeps going. Framily is very embracing. I like it. That word is all that is left of the framily member that opened that word to me. She is now across the country living in another zip code, time zone, climate.

Our copy machine, Biz got tired after copying 1,900,000 pages here at work church. Really? not even 2 mil? What's that about ? She gave us hints she was wearing thin with squeaks and jams. She had knee replacement, hip replacement, and drawer 3 replacement surgeries but she never quite beeped back to her old sparky self so we went to the cabbage patch and found another bizzy family member. The new baby arrived swaddled in saran wrap last week, but the doc said he wouldn't be able to slap her butt and get her screaming til next week so he rolled her into the quietest space we could find that was big enough to accommodate her parts.The chapel.

The chapel used to be the sanctuary eons ago, but now is pretty much a multi-purpose room. Pews are long gone, and the space is nice and friendly, open. Once a week, one of our associate pastors has a communion service in the chapel at lunchtime. Summer has stolen some attendees, as summer will, (who can compete with the NC coast?) leaving a handful of folks to fill the "pews," now chairs, but they come determined and hungry for some soul and spirit food; aside from the Welches and Hawaiian bread, I mean. They enjoy the short service and have made a ritual of coming each week. The service offers comfort and a little God snack in the middle of the week to help sustain fragile faith and promise til Sunday comes.

I was getting ready to escape for a lunch time cat nap at home when one of the custodial framily guys called out- "Wait!". I stopped and waited for him to lope over. "You know there's communion service today." His tone was rushed and serious.
I looked at him.  His eyebrows had bolted up to his hairline and pulled his eyes wide wide open. "Thanks for reminding me, but I'm going to lunch." I gazed through the front door glass.
" I know but there's a copy machine in there."
"Oh! that's our new baby bizzy! Isn't she lovely? She's hanging out in the back of the Chapel for a few days.We can't move her until the guys come to install her next week."
"But, but, uh the chapel is supposed to be empty of everything but chairs and the altar."His eyebrows knitted and purled as he spoke. He didn't seem to share my excitement about our new arrival.
"I don't think the pastor will mind having a mute bundle listen in today, really I don't."
He looked at me as if I was speaking Greek yogurt. "The pastor is reealllllyyy particular about that set up."
I could tell this was important and I respect the level of hard work he gives his job. I nodded; gave him the okay sign. I walked back over to the front desk and got a scrap piece of  paper, a pinch of tape, and a marker. I closed my eyes, concentrating on what I wanted to say , scribble scrabbled some syllables, then headed for the chapel. He shadowed my steps closely. I entered the chapel  and taped the note ever so gently on baby bizzy. Then I headed out  to lunch again.

He followed me down the hall and into the lobby. "Are you sure that will be okay?" His fingers were locked together in a single crochet, no, double. I wondered how he was going to be able to drive home later.
"I'm certain. Relax. Don't worry. It's an inclusive service, isn't it?"
" Welllllll, yeah. I guess so."

I stepped outside into the sweltering heat and left him standing in the lobby silently praying while trying to unknot his fingers.

I saw the pastor later that afternoon. "How'd your service  go today?"
"Fine, fine." No mention of an unwelcomed guest, I noticed.
"How'd Bizzy do?"
"Remarkably well for a newborn." he bantered.
"Great, that's good to know."
He handed me the note I had taped to bizzy. "Thought it might chaff the newborn's tender cover."

I love it when people just go along with the stories that interrupt routine. Love. It.

My boss came up behind me and looked over my shoulder. "What's that?"
I gave him the slip of paper. "Hi. I'm Bizzy. Church Chick put me here because I want to attend the service"
"Oh, great! the new copier is here."  My boss acted as if he, too, was thrilled to have a new church framily member arrive.
"What will become of the old one?" he asked.
"Foster care. We'll find a family who will love it as we did. A family who doesn't work it so hard."
He stepped into his office. "Well, that's just great, it really is." The door clicked shut and we all went back to work.
Maybe when new Bizzy is up and running, I'll write the news on the white board in the hallway, add it to the newborns, illnesses and death announcements. or, maybe not.

Gifting

For as long as I can remember, which is sometimes 50-some years ago and sometimes only a minute ago, I have found amazement in the ability for gifts to create themselves. My children will roll their eyes at this, but they will also shake their heads, yes. Oh, yesss. Here she goes. Grab a coke and a bag of chips and get comfortable….

Something inside of me believes as strongly as I believe in truth, that everything around us and among us has some thread of life and spirit of giving. When these characteristics make their selves known, it feels like a gift to me. I mean not to ME, but to me.

I can recall many years ago thinking it pretty brave for the grass to grow back after being mowed time and time again, and  especially when the hard working little green blades knew darn well they’d be cut back again anyway. I thought it a gift to witness such strength.  

If the sun shined on a day I really needed to be out in it, well, you may as well have put a bow on sunrise that day.

Talk about gifts. I was thrilled that my children chose to be born.  As if they could choose NOT to be. Well, maybe they could have, they are each pretty determined creatures.  I’m just glad that they swam to the light.

The fact that they were such fun to be with growing up- a gift.

Watching them become individuals-sometimes challenging and scary,but  more often big bigger biggest gifts.

After they passed the age of 9, I felt like each one of them gave me a huge present by continuing to talk to me, the mom, and the fact that they wanted to talk or ask questions or do things together- a gift

My children used to give me coupons for holidays like Mothers’ day or (puke) birthday. I still have the Ovaltine coupon jar in the attic. I didn’t use the coupons much, not nearly as much as I could have, but just having the thoughts and ideas from my own children, well, it was overwhelming. I mean, come on-

Who doesn’t find it incredibly invaluable to have a “10 minute playing with hair” at the wait?

When my car starts, I am thankful. It might just be damn tired of being a multi-use vehicle and decide not to run anymore. Such a gift.

Cooking- messy cheffing- When the food gets eaten, I am thankful for those who took the chance. Yep, even now.

The fact that my counselor continues to support me and see me weekly is  unbelievable. I continue to try to prepare myself for the “You’re fired, Melanie” words. But he reassures me that we will keep talking  and we have lots of work to do. Don’t I know it.  The stories and experiences that have entered his space over these years have filled every nook, crannie and corner with silken interwoven webs from my past and present. Still, “See you next week” comes out at the end of our time and I am always surprised. Always. Isn’t it a gift to find a safe place where you can completely bear your soul and all that lies enmeshed in it? Gift.

Connecting with and forming a trusting and delightful friendship with a friend's daughter- g.i.f.t. The gift of watching her become.... is so much a present.

Being the not-peer- not mother with a collective group of teens  is so big in my heart that it would clear out a whole wrapping paper aisle in a Hallmark store to wrap it.

I enjoy working in the dirt. My back doesn’t love it so much, so my effective working time is limited, but I find calm and hopefulness in gardening. When bulbs come up- when vegetables produce, flowers bloom- cuttings take root- How  are those not huge huge gifts? I am putting them in the ground, to sleep. No one told them they had to get up.

These are fair examples but there are examples of gifting everywhere and always.

Call me quirky. I don’t care. I appreciate the simple gifts of nature and friends and that’s about all I can take, too. For good reason, but old reasoning, I have a visceral reaction to being given gifts outside of that simple range. I’m working on it. (see above… weekly talk time with one who knows and is wise)

When the work church good elves and good fairies leave me treats and presents, I am stunned. I’ve been here over 5 years now, and still have the same reaction. Home church surrounds me with more gifting than I can fit into this post even if I changed to a .3 font.

When my boss reviews me and he doesn’t say, “It’s been nice having you but really, let’s be real. You just aren't cut out for this job”  I walk away in a daze. That’s a big gift. Big.

A couple of years ago, I rode my neat old and worn bike to work. Before the day was out, the bike was being driven by a regular visitor to work church who needed transportation to find work. Even though I knew this visitor well enough to know he would probably sell it and purchase things I didn't want to know about, I thought giving him a dose of trust might be a good thing, so I sent him off on my bike where he was spotted half an hour later by a work friend who saw him driving like a bat... we didn't read any headlines about robbers on bikes the next day, so we let it go.

I started looking for a replacement but I wasn't really sure what to get. Classifieds read: Middle aged body seeking comfortable two wheeler....... what to get? A friend who is framily now, called and took me looking. He and his best- in- the- world girlfriend and I had fun shopping. Actually, I think they had fun shopping while I was having heart attacks at how much new bikes cost if you get them with a seat and wheels, which is really more useful than a lone frame. The seats were mostly built to hold one cheek of the average adult bottom, too. What's THAT about? The day ended and I had such a nice time.

The next day, I came home from church and on my back stoop sat a bike. A bike with wheels AND handlebars and a seat that might just hold even my aged a......I couldn't believe it. How serendipitous! The very next day after we'd been looking and shopping!!.  I called my friends and yelled into the phone to them, "Someone bought me a bike?!........ Did you buy me a bike?........ Why could you how could you do this !?" I could feel their good natures over the phone.

I hung up and brought it in the house. One week. Two weeks. A friend came by and said, "Hey, why don't you ride your BIKE? or are you going to leave it in the dining room and start eating on it?" I rode it to a friend's house and to work. I would probably frame it if I could and hang it because the thought behind it means so much more to me than the bike itself. Now, a few years later, I ride it but not as much as I wish I would. When I do, I am taken back to a day when three friends spent a Saturday just tooling around talking and looking at bicycles. The value of that time and the friendship means everything to me. 

I have a friend at work, I’ll call her birthday girl today, who has learned more about me than most and she understands with love, this thing about gifts being hard for me. She knows I am grateful beyond measure for any kindnesses, but she also will be patient and huggy in those times. That present is one I hold onto dearly. The unconditional love.

A few months ago, I suggested to an older friend at work church, that I would be willing to write down his stories if he would record them. He tells stories about as much as he breathes. I find them interesting and can only imagine the value his family would  put on those things if they were contained in an easy- on demand form like a bookish kind of thing. He agreed, and has been recording and I have been typing.

How delightful to be swept away from your own minutes for a little while and to be thrown into someone else’s- very different times and places.. I am enjoying this and feel so honored that he is willing to let me know his story. What better present than to be trusted with someone else’s life history?

Not long after I started typing, birthday girl’s husband dropped by to see me. He came in –in his work clothes, work satchel in tow. He, too knows me well. He sat uncomfortably in a chair in my office while I worked. I thought he was coming to see his wife. I typed and he fidgeted. Finally, he said, “I have something for you.”

I stopped typing.

He tensed.

“It is a good thing. Not a bad thing. I want you to let that sit with you for a while.”

I sat, staring at my screen wishing I had purchased and  hooked up that  rope ladder to my alley window when I had seen one on sale at Ace a while back.

He got up, and walked over to my desk.

I turned in my chair and steeled for the unknown.

“Tom asked me what you could use to make your transcription easier and since I work on your ancient  home laptop, I said, a computer. So this is one for you to use for his stories.”

I was relieved. So much so that I let out a breath. Using a nicer laptop would be great and when I am done  I know where to return it to. Perfect. Equipment on loan.

He opened the satchel and pulled out a new laptop and opened it. He turned it on.

A familiar and friendly picture of Hoops and Yoyo popped up. (I use pictures of hoops and yoyo on Facebook and I have them in my office and I love them a ton because in another life, we were next door neighbors) It became clear to me that this computer was a gift for me to use and keep. When I was able to turn my head to look at him, he had a Kleenex in one hand and both arms open. He kept saying, “This is a good thing. Please keep it. This is a good thing.” He and Tom had contributed to this and since he does the work on my present computer he was able to know better about what I would use more readily. He got me a mouse and a bag to carry it in as well. He told me of his adventures  in shopping and that story alone felt like such an incredible offering from his spirit and friendship that I really did not need the story to end with, “and then I bought the computer and brought it here.”

I took it home and looked at it for a few days. Then I took it out of its case and looked at it for a few more days. I put it here, and then I put it there. Eventually, I opened it, took a deep breath, and  still overwhelmed, I put it right back in its case and got my old one and put it in the case too, and took it to my friend so he could  transfer info from old to new. In the days that followed, I talked with my weekly advisor, my girls, and others in my small but –tightly- woven -with -trust -friends. I hugged Tom when I saw him and tried to accept this generous tool. Now, it’s been a couple of months and Dell and I are beginning to bond.

Two weeks ago, my cabrio (Calvin) croaked. I drive that car like a truck, hauling mulch and leaves and plants and cuttings  and kids and groceries and yard sale furniture in it. When it rains heavily, I carry water in the doors and floor and call the car Camel instead of Calvin. I knew the list of the cabrio's car problem issues was growing, but I decided that I would drive it until it was undriveable, and then be a pedestrian after that.  Calvin tried to tell me he was in trouble.  He kept his check engine light on. Even when I took him in to the shop for a look see, he’d get to shining that check engine light  on again after we left. Then, the brake light started coming on intermittently. The coolant began leaking, and after checking that out, and finding no problem, it kept leaking anyway so I started keeping coolant in the trunk along with the shovel, fertilizer, and gloves. An invisible marble began rolling around under the hood. The steering wheel  would occasionally screech and resist  my hold. The car acquired a shimmy that my oldest daughter calls the Katherine Hepburn. (Sounds more like an expensive dinner choice until you take a ride in the cabrio... voices turn into her rattled rantings  due to the shimmy.)

The mechanics, who are really friends who love Calvin, checked it out and said to keep at it unless it got worse so I did. It didn’t get worse for a year. Calvin finally succumbed to full fledged illness and with my oldest daughter following me, we got him  to the hospital. By the time we pulled into the auto shop driveway, the steering wheel would only turn a quarter turn and the marble had become a petrified dead body part so we sounded like a screeching banging kabooming black boogie car about ready to call it quits.

I knew I had no appointment and I knew the car’s time for attention was past due and I also knew I had no funds to repair all that was needed to be fixed. I got comfortable in that, and decided I would become a pedestrian at last.

I walked to work and anywhere else I could. My daughters were more than kind in offering me rides, but   they have their own jobs and things to do going on, so I resisted unless I absolutely needed a vehicle. They loaned me their cars to garden, and to grocery shop for Messy Chef jobs. They were very very kind and loving. Friends at work were just as kind. My biggest fear was not being able to get to weekly talk time. but framily came through. My daughter and then a friend at work offered to take me and even my kind counselor came through with making sure I got home. Too many kindnesses. I started learning the bus routes and rescheduled errands of like kind together. All good habits to learn. A week passed. No news. The weekend and a few more days, no news.

I called to see if Calvin was still in the OR, and the mechanic sounded pretty optimistic on the phone. She told me what they had done so far, and said they were going to keep going down the list . She seemed very upbeat and confident that Calvin would grace the roads yet again sometime soon. She seemed a little too chipper, if you know what I mean. The kind of chipper when you have to tell your 9 year old the hamster died, so you start off with  telling them how much responsibility your child has shown with this pet, how many fun times they  enjoyed together, and that you were so proud that your child was such a good caretaker and you both did all you could and then … eventually, the words blurt out “but the cat ate him anyway.”

That night one of the front desk receptionists from work church gave me a ride to home church and when I got there, I went to see my friend who works too much. While I was standing in her office, A teenager walked by and noticed me in there and backed up. “Oh! Hi! Melanie!”

I smiled and said “Hi!”

“Hey, I was working at the garage today and saw your car!”

“Oh! How was it doing? How does it look?”

Just as a typical teen who lives in the second would do, she answered spontaneously, “Well, the mechanic complained all day that your car is really f……… up. Yeah, really messed up bad. Good to see you! Bye!” and she left.

I wondered if I should call hospice or just wait for The Call.

Finally, the next day the mechanic called  and read me the list of what had been repaired. It could have filled an entire excel spread sheet and if you don’t know excel you will just have to trust that the list was long. Thoroughly and impossibly long. They had fixed all but the Katherine Hepburn shimmy and AC ,and they had been driving it to test their work and I could come get it and bring it back next week for a half day to finish up.

 I told her, the mechanic, that I had XX amount of money and I would either like to keep the car there until I could come up with the rest. (which meant I needed to find a treasure, win the sweepstakes, or sell my firstborn-it was obvious I wasn’t getting anywhere hitting the downtown stripper stretch at night. No takers. J) or I would like to give up my apartment and move into the car.  She said come on over.

I got there, and saw a customer standing in the office. A man who looked as if he wasn’t really sure he wanted to be there at all. A man who may have been thinking he should have come in sooner. A man who had that look of dread that comes with one when the car has to go to the shop.

The mechanic was on the phone with a new customer and when she saw me come in, she told the caller that she wanted the new business, but she needed to help someone and would call them back later. I had never known her to let a potential customer go. I imagined her wearing scrubs when she walked over to a clipboard that had my key clipped to it. I gave her my check, she gave me my key and said, "Look. I was told to do this.” She tore up my check.

The uncertain  man in the room took a complete turnaround in his demeanor and stance. He stood up taller, his eyes grew wide and  you could tell he was wondering if this was for real, or if this was a joke. His eyes darted around looking for the video camera. Do these people love their work so much that they do it for free?????

My feet cemented to the floor and suddenly,  it seemed as if the mechanic was speaking in a foreign language. I could not grasp the meaning of her words.

“People have been calling and coming over here to check on the state of your car since we’ve had it. I’ve heard  more stories about you than I ever knew. After a while, the vendors got onboard and the two of us, too. It’s been a group effort to get your car running and out of here so you can keep doing whatever it is you are doing that has people calling here and coming by. All I can say is that you are very loved.”

From across the room came a loud sniff. The mechanic and I looked over to see the man break down.  The three of us clustered into a raging salt water waterfall for a long time. I was unable to get that I was not paying for my car.

The crying man said, “I don’t know you, but if you wait a minute, I’ve got a few bucks in the car.”

The mailman drove by and beeped.

A train sped by and blew its whistle.

The prisoners a block away were all clinging to the bars  chanting, “Cal-vin Cabrio, Cal-vin Cabrio, Cal-vin...”

The mayor, who lives a mere block away wanted to be with us too, I’m certain of it.

I won’t go into my reactions other than to say they were staticly overwhelming and soggy. I needed to find out who had made this happen so I could repay them. The power of that thought was strong.

The mechanic wanted to show me what she and her partner had done. After looking at the parts they removed from Calvin, the ones they were planning funeral services for, I headed back to work.

As if I wasn't already struggling to find my clearer thinking over this ginormous act of kindness and mystery, I got green lights the whole way back . I thought I saw a stop sign coming up once, but it ducked before I could get there. 

I walked into work, dripping, and the front desk receptionist gave me a note that said a friend had left me a casserole in the frig for dinner…. Oh, and here’s$2 to help finish off paying for your car. . Apocalypse was upon us. There was no other explanation.

Work wasn’t working, my management gauge was out of order, so I went to therapuke and sat in Calvin until talk time. That saving grace, as usual, helped me immensely. I won’t go into the details, but I will say that for some reason, a collection of people who know me  came together to do this for me. It appears as if the loving act of kindness rippled out and touched other folks, as well. Do you see the gift in that? It is so clear. The man in the shop, momentarily relieved of his guilt for waiting to bring the car in, has a better trust in the care his car will be given. The mechanic got to play Santa Clause in the pollinated spring and the friends, whoever they may be, gave big big, goodness to not only me, but to lots of others they don’t even know.

I won’t say I understand this generous giving being pointed my way, but I am today, dry eyed (mostly) and very grateful. Sometimes I think we aren’t supposed to ask why.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

New Years Day

As with many people, when I divorced, I left behind many traditions. In the few years that I have been on my own, I have created new ones for my girls and have left many behind, some with a sad heart.

I remember the first Thanksgiving that I was single again, and how awkward and hard it was to reconstruct a family turkey day when our family was broken. That year, I realized that it may be easier to create than to try to re-create in an environment that was not the same. I started cooking Thanksgiving dinner for my girls on Wed before Thanksgiving. It was successful all around and in some surprising ways. We made our own rules, for one. We started out making the menu list with the same foods we always did. In the middle of discussion over oyster dressing, one of the girls said,in a quiet voice, "I don't like oyster dressing" and the others heartily agreed. I became the brave voice that suggested, "What if we don't have it?" Well, you would have thought the mere mention of changing the menu would have brought on an earthquake, the way we all froze at that idea.

After a few moments, when the earth did not self-destruct, something eased within us, and I enjoyed all eyes on my pen as I scratched through oyster dressing on my menu list.
This new-found freedom continued and this year, well, we ate when we wanted, we had one dessert, not 3, and we basically enjoyed the whole darn experience. We have a new enjoyment of Thanksgiving.

New Years' Day we used to have a community meal for friends who didn't really have hangover plans. I liked that meal especially, because, like the annual pig picking, invites were by memory and happenstance. I loved having people count on coming into our home haggard and dehydrated, knowing they could have a bite of something that might kick off some good vibes in the coming year. We filled our house with food and people every New Years Day for years. That is one event I wanted to continue on a smaller scale and, to date, the event has worked well.

I cook pork and saurkraut with potatoes all day, collards from the garden, black eye peas with ham. I make plenty of sweet tea, and a few pies. Long about 2 pm, friends start dripping in. There are never more than 8 or 10 people present at any given time, and so I can manage the numbers, or rather, my scrambled nerves can.

This event offers a great opp to put the 6 degrees of separation thinking to work. There is nearly always an unexpected connection found among strangers.
Yesterday went well, and I was once again reminded of the importance of finding one's chosen family. My girls and I are building support and relationships through creating expanding family and it is a very very good thing. The girls enjoyed the day, and there was such a relaxed sense of calm that I did, too. This is one tradition that has managed to cross over from one life to another in our family.

Breaking up is hard to do

This time of year is a real challenge for me. It took me two years to stop panicking at the phrase, ...CHARGE CONFERENCE. I know I wrote about that early on. I still get a jolt, but nothing like I used to. I can manage the grueling reports and other assembly work involved, but now that I am beginning to know more church members, this time of year has become a heartbreak for me.

Charge Conference is the time we change out committees, and chair people and the folks I have come to know over the past 12 months sometimes disappear. This makes me sad in my heart. Today, i broke up with Missions. Did you not see the eclipse as I realized what was happening? Did you not????

I sent out an email inquiring about an upcoming meeting. The person I have come to know as friend, replied that someone else was in the chairspot now. Since I keep up with this, I, on some level knew this. Since I am very much a creature of habit, and since I tend to hold onto the good things in life as I find them, I chose to ignore this fact. The news hit hard.

I sent her a note saying, "Are you breaking up with me?" It was a tough moment. I haven't been broken up with since high school. What does one do in such a situation? Get to know another chair for another year? Who created this system anyway? Some Methodist on an overload of sugar? Let's switch out annually. Heck, let's change every week, why not? Some positions last a couple or three years, and sometimes those turn into 10 years or 20. Why do the chairs, the people I have contact with have to keep leaving? Oh, woe is me. The sense of abandonment reigns heavy in my heart.

She wrote back and said something like "Heck no, we're good. Just send the reminders to the new guy." How sad is it to become attached to people you only send reminder cards to ? Don't tell me, I don't want to know. Let's just say people matter to me, and leave it at that.

The thing is, I like the new chair too.

Lunch on a wagon train

A very special friend wanted to have lunch yesterday. I did, too. We have been friends since before I birthed children. She used to come to my exercise classes, then when I started my own business, became a teacher for me. We have shared some very important pieces of our lives, and i don't think I could ever do without her.

As it turned out, yesterday at work,we had a short term front desk helper who needed to leave before lunch, so I picked up some box lunches for the boss's meeting and got two for us (on our dime, of course. )I figured if she came to work and we sat in my office I could still catch the phone til the afternoon relief arrived to take over.

She was amenable to the plan and readily came over. While I was out picking up the lunches, my car decided to cough. (I had just spent 300 $ earlier in the week, but guess I missed getting the car flu shot, so I hopped it over to the mechanic's. I figured they had left something loose.
They had. So it was a quick fix. )

When I got back to work, my buddy had made friends with the front desk person, and had read through half of the morning paper. We carried the bags of boxed lunches to my office and the receptionist left.

There were 50 gargantuan tablecloths parked in the huggy chair, so she pulled the recliner across the room in front of my desk so we could share a common table.

We began to eat.

BAM!! The door opened, and someone flew in slamming the door against the recliner, sending the first full bite of lunch out of my friend's mouth and onto my lay leadership list. We laughed.
We cleaned up, I answered the visitor's question and they left.

We began again, chatting about our families, and such. A bite or two of fruit salad and WHAM! I'm wearing cantalope. ( It happens to be a good color for me)

The visitor went to the closet and found what was needed and left. I went outside and changed the note on my door from "at lunch" to "Maternity Leave". The traffic didn't stop-

Our conversation tried to continue, but after a while, my friend began to turn green and voiced that she was beginning to feel a little seasick from all of the waves crashing into her chair.

We packed up our lunches and pushed them aside.

I called upstairs to the youth duo and requested sodas from the machine to go. They were very kind in accomodating me and treated us to boot!! ( they are wayyy tooo good to me)

Soon we had Avon people coming in for some assistance an hour early. sighhhhhhhhh
My boss came in, banging in with the Pastoral Care that only HE can.... and he was delightful. He grabbed the bag for his meeting and backed out. He may have been hoping I was screening someone for him, but he was probably just glad to get away from what was clearly momtalk. He is intuitive that way, and such a smart man, as you know. At times like that, it always surprises me that he takes the iniative to do things like seek me out and get the bag rather than just calling me on the intercom or yelling across the office, "Where is our lunch?" Which is what I expect but rarely if ever get. No, he's very respectful of the Grand Central Office.

Over time, this office has redefined itself. I love that. A job that is growing and taking an office along with it.Sometimes my corner alley of the building is a haven for griefstricken people who just want to sit in the huggy chair and listen to me type along with the mystery radio show that plays on the radio.
Sometimes people need a sense of control in their out -of -control life and they pilfer through the nut mix to Choose their favorite legume or fruit. Choices are good salve when you run out of them in other places of your day.

Sometimes, people come in like hornets, and need to vent. This is when I open the window, to let those heated words escape. There is something healing about watching venom slam into a brick wall

Sometimes, people bring by treats just because they are thoughtful.

Other times they drop off items that have no where else to go- call me orphanage

Mostly, my place is a pitstop for a quick breath or a piece of gum and a kind word. And Iwouldn't have it any other way.

Yesterday, It was a rough ride on a wagon train for my friend,but I think she fared okay. I watched her walk to the car and she only stumbled a few times.

Although it was great to see my oldest and dearest friend, all I can really say is that her kids are growing up. The other details are scattered on the floor around my desk.

A respite day off

Today I took a day off. I had a few vacation days I didn't want to lose, so I'm taking them while we are still in an even numbered year. I love my job. You can read back through and see that. I love the Christmas lights I line my walls with all year long, I love creating different mixages for the staff consumption ( We are presently enjoying Melanie's Merry Christmas Mix which is almonds, chocolate, mini marshmallows, pineapple, cashews and good cheer)

I love filing, and I especially enjoy the challenge of filing something one day and trying to remember how and where I filed it the next. State of mind has everything to do with it and mine is everchanging. I like typing, scheduling events , ohhhh running the postal machine, distributing mail. I love putting people on hold. (Never do this when angry, you tend to forget them)

I like helping people understand Biz, our new copy machine. Biz and I are buds. I like hearing the folding machine going a mile a minute, because it means our tech guy is running a large mailing and that means that I'm not. I like running last minute errands for the dress rehearsal, or grabbing box lunches for a meeting. So many things to keep me busy.

I most especially like to tell my boss his next appointment is here. Yes, I love my job.

So I decided to take a day away from all this. Yes, friends. I took a day off. I needed to do something for me, something to feed my spirit. To renew my inner chia. So, I went to my home church and spent the day. I chatted with my favorite mentor church chick over church chickfeed,
I hugged every staff member i saw. I checked in with the business administrator to see how business is being administrated today, I planned the Christmas breakfast that I'm in charge of organizing this weekend. I cleaned out a box of crafts . I answered the phone, work called me and one of my 4 daughters called as well. I think it's neat that they know where to find me. If I'm not at one church I'm at another.......and I read a little. I ran last minute errands with the Minister of children- I'm her official volunteer admin assistant. I talked with the new youth pastor over how it's going. He still has that glazed look but I think he can run the copy machine now. I talked with my best work friend, who was worried when i wasn't at work, but was relieved when she knew I was at home church. She's a good egg, over easy, just the way i like friends. I talked with both co-pastors and the financial secretary who lives across the street from the latest extreme home makeover. It will be shown in January. For a week she slept with ear plugs and her head buried under her mattress. No kidding 24/7 they work to get those projects done. She was there for the "Move that bus" I asked her about it. I think she 's still a little tired because she said, "Well, they said Move that bus, and then they moved it."

Today was just like being at work except I didnt' get paid money for it , I got paid in love and friendship energy and i picked my day. Actually, the two partner up pretty darn well. I love my job and I love my home church. It's a good mix.

I offered a volunteer admin asst job to someone special at work church and she said yes. So now, when I'm not there, sometimes she is there and that makes the plants and office happy.

Offices need that flow to keep them warm and fuzzy. Home church and work church are all that.

God's mysterious gifts

The honor of the job ..........
I love my job. It’s like a dresser with lots of drawers. I’m in and out of them all day. The daily push and pull is interesting all by itself, but over time I have noticed unspoken perks. Lots of them. I get to see many different sizes, ages, types of people, but I don’t have to spend a great deal of time with anyone in particular. There is not enough time in the day for that- but I get to know lots of folks and I get to learn little bits of their stories. That’s a big perk. Every now and then, I am allowed into their lives, and those times are the most precious.

The Pastors play a large part in helping people through hard times. I see people experience the mourning and the joy that life gives them. My office offers a short-stop respite where the Pastors’ offices and sanctuary give deep and lasting comfort and peace. I’m a dot and a dash where the Pastors offer parentheses. ( ) warmth and love.

There is a member who brings pictures in almost weekly, for me to mail out. He keeps the church memories alive with random and spontaneous photos. Another comes to my office with questions about this and that, and she always writes down my answers in shorthand. One man shares my interest in Tai Chi, and he comes to grab a handful of discipleship bracelets every few months, so he can distribute them when he’s out and about. A young adult comes to water my plants and to inquire about the chronicles. He keeps me on task when I’ve let too much time pass without writing. Small, miniature members enjoy my treasure chest. I keep happy meal toys and stickers in there for little visitors. Brief Encounters, these special friendships. Brief and very very important. Each one different, and unique. A kaleidoscope of the world passes by my office each day.

Lately, an angel has touched down in my nest. She came carrying a huge burden of challenges. Her basket became too heavy to carry, so she had to drag it alongside her. I watched her grow into her sadness. I watched God take hold of her heart and open it to others. She formed a close connection with her Bible Study group. They extended their class into the summer to keep the connection strong. She walked a frighteningly unknown path every day. Even so-she allowed herself to be comforted and nudged along the way, she stayed on a clearly spiritual path. When her sadness reached fruition, her grief was surrounded, in situ, by so many who had grown to love her. She didn’t see what I could see.

She was wrapped tight with knots of pain, and was held and rocked with soothing friendships she had formed through her sad experience. She is unaware of the effect she has on those around her. They are so focused on her that they don’t see it themselves. It’s surely a God thing. Doesn’t God want us to be community to each other? To grow that way? Reciprocal relationships? Pure and simple love? It’s all there- the continuum of love and support is strong. She calls for and receives, and by that, she gives SO much that goes to those around her. It’s a win-win situation. The pain is there, but so is the love and with that comes the promise of better seconds, maybe minutes- and hours to days.

There was a time that the waiting was cumulatively hard, I could find no particle of ease to give her- so I “hired” her to be my admin asst. It was all make-believe, but I called her when she was late, I gave her things that needed doing, asked her advice, put her name on the sign in board… At first, she thought it a joke, an attempt at kindness from someone who didn’t really know how to help her but wanted to. After a few days, she began to wonder if maybe I was delusional, the front desk receptionists asked about the new staff member on the check in list and I said, “Leave it there a while- tell her she needs to do a better job at signing in and out- the next time you see her.”

I brought a more comfortable chair into the office and called it hers. We cleared a place on my desk for her to work. I begged for her help. She helped me clean out my closet, and I taught her the church chick secrets of mixing mixage for my desk.

She helped me do lots of things, but mostly, she helped me to know her better. We laughed, and we played office. We took a long lunch one day. When her best friend left town, I was the checkpoint for how she was managing. Time passed. Her darkness came, she lost a big part of her heart in the loss of a child-the grief that she carried lingers- I imagine it will for a long time to come. How can it not?

From where I sit, I see that she will remain surrounded by the friendships she has built. And if all else fails, she’s always got an office to hang out in.

Dear God,
Thank you for giving when it feels like you are taking.

Religion Buffet-style

I think it is a wonder that we humans can find the ingenuity to have our needs met- when those needs are known. Say for instance, if I needed an idea for a child's sunday school lesson, the first person I'd approach would be the children's minister, who else?

Sometimes, people can really climb out of the box on having those needs met. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.

Choosing a church isn't as easy as it chirps. I mean, one church may have a killer Sunday School program, but the sermons lull you to sleep. Another might offer delicious Bible Study classes, but the WEdnesday night dinners leave something to be desired. So, say someone has strong feelings in many areas, they might participate in several church families. There are many up sides to this... meeting more people, learning more comprehensively about God and Jesus, or other entity-types around the globe. The downside is the time involved. Carpool time for one thing, having to keep track of where you are at any given time. It's a bit much for me, but one really nice benefit would be when you are down and out or needing a little bit of congregational care. How must it feel to be surrounded by 4,5,or 6 representatives of Godly love in your time of need? Pretty good for the one in need, I'd think. Could be pretty surprising for the clergy. On the other hand, walking into a room with several other representatives creates a sense of worldly community. Me? personally, I'll stick with two. My families at work church and home church are tied together by a strong connection to God. For me, that's pretty darn good.