P.S. Some days are just like that

Some days are just like that-

My boss has been working harder than usual to help this congregation feel loved and appreciated. I say harder, but in truth there aren't many things that are easier right now. Pre-pandemic days he would be visiting folks at the hospital; welp THAT ain't happen' right now. People would be in and out of his office like bees in and out of the honey hive. You can hear the echo of a pin drop in the stairwell these days.  When I try to mimic my normal morning check-ins with him,(that aren't as needed of late)  my voice echoes off of the dust that has accumulated on and around the collectibles that fill his office. The figurines look lonely and narry a tissue has been used or offered in months.

He and the other pastors have been delivering the UPPER ROOM magazines, talking to people on the phone and of course, ZOOMING like mad. This week he asked if we had a wheelchair that a member could use, if so, to please let him know and he'd be happy, no THRILLED  to deliver it. The man is desperate for human contact- if I had wondered before, I didn't after that-

We found one and sent him on his way- expecting him back sooner rather than later. Tick. tick. tick.
Late afternoon brought him back, disheveled and wide-eyed. "How'd it go?" I asked when I saw him come in.
"Well, this is one for your blog, church chick!"  and I thought it might be, so here you go.

He had rolled the chair from the church to his car, finagled and fiddled with it until he finally figured out how to fold it and then -oof!- lifted it into his car. He drove to the member's house and unloaded the burdensome wheelchair, fought with it to open, and rolled it up to the house. He knocked on the door. No answer. He called and someone finally came out, so glad to see him, they didn't even notice the chair! After a few minutes, he made mention of the chair he probably wished he could be sitting in, and the cheerful member casually said, "Oh! that's not for us- that's for a friend who needs it, would you mind?" He graciously accepted the request, then rolled, folded, and pushed the awkwardly shaped chair back into the car and headed to the 'friend's' house. It was way over there somewhere, so he asked Siri to tell him how to get there. "Well this road is closed and that one is blocked and the other one has a sinkhole in it, so which one do you want?" She answered his simple request for directions as if she really cared, which we know she didn't. Doesn't. She's not real, yet her voice resides in many of our phones. So he tried roundabout ways under bridges, over railroad tracks, then through frightful forests until he finally arrived at the 'friend's' house and once again, dragged that wacky wheeled monster out of his car where he very well could have plopped right into it and wheeled his way to their door, but being the Senior Pastor, he once again, pushed it to the door, up the hill and over the pebbles where it was grateful to rest somewhere other than his car, then he headed back to church.

What a fiasco! a comedic distraction! Yesterday, Mr. wheelchair showed up outside the front doors. It had been returned, yet abandoned in a rush to drop and go, go, go. We brought it inside, Gillian gave it a detail cleaning, and parked it back in the closet where it resides. She closed the door and went about doing other work. A few times later that afternoon, I could have sworn I heard sighs of relief coming from that closet. Sometimes, it's good to be home, even to a church wheelchair.

Reunion on a budget

Feeling nostalgic? Cooler weather, earlier dark bringing out the melancholy in you? Been missing old friends?

Maybe what you need is a serendipitious get together, a time to connect with people you haven't seen in a while. Wouldn't a low-key party be fun?

Oh, but "How will I find those people from my past, those I have fond memories of, but no address for anymore?" you may say.

Obituation is the way to go. Invitations are used primarly for planned events when you want to include friends who are presently living in your same plane of existence. Obituation is a magnet for everyone else. It's cheap, and rather unpredictable, as you just never know who might show up.

Here's how it works- Call the local paper and ask to speak to the Deaths and obituary section chief. Give a short bio of whoever you want to call the "party target" and send a pic if you have one. List a conveniently located church and say "Visitation at (X) time." Then, run over to the grocery, pick up a few bags of chips and dip, high tail it over to the church parking lot and wait.

You will see people you haven't seen in years, AND their dogs, neighbors and friends. Redirect them when they pull in and the rest will happen on its own. Curiosity will bring some into the lair, unresolved issues mingle among a few attendees, and the rest tag along with a bag of mixed guilt over not saying this or that or not keeping us as they should. The turn around from sad to glad doesn't take long. and before you know it, you've got a full blown reunion!!!

We had something like this recently at church. Someone who had lived here long ago, had left the country and had not been heard from or seen for several decades. For some reason, the remaining family had decided that Mrs. Argyle should return to the states for her permanent nap. She had belonged here when the church was first built, in the late 1800's, but hadn't been seen since. On the day of the funeral , I was surprised to see the parking lot overflowing with autos.

What surprised me even more was the licence plates. Oregon, Virginia, California. Wow. I wonder how they knew? Then I wondered if maybe the out of state visitors were really party crashers, maybe they didn't know Mrs. Argyle at all, they just wanted to get in on the visitation and see what kind of fashion statement was being made. Maybe these people were like storm chasers, only they chased funeral gigs. I got so interested in wondering about this, that I forgot we were honoring a very deserving individual who had lived a long long, long long life.

I walked inside the church and stood at the door to the sanctuary and looked through the glass door. The casket was open and I saw just the tip of a nose reaching up from the satin bed. I had heard that when you got older, your nose kept growing and your ears, too, I guess it's true. AT least the nose part. It was kind of creepy having a body when today, most people go the ashes route. I felt sad for the people in ARgyle's life who lost their friend, relative, whatever. I wondered what she was like when her nose was younger. Where had she been, what had she been doing all those years away from her homeplace? Did she mind that after all that time away, she still ended up right here where she began? Some things I guess we'll never know.