Posts Categorized: Kindness

Yes, I’m Still Wearing My Mask

| Faithfulness, Joy, Kindness, Peace

When I made my first do-it-yourself mask, I never dreamed that we’d be wearing masks for, what seems like, the rest of my life. Later, I ordered a couple of masks that have my college logo on them. I keep them hanging on the turn signal lever on the side of the steering wheel.

At church, we are still wearing masks during Sunday School and during Worship Service. The logo mask sometimes generates questions. One adult friend asked what it was, and I said it was my college’s logo. “Oh,” she said. “I thought it might be Hogwarts.”

When I go to the elementary school close to church, I’m part of a group of adults who, once a week, spend lunch time with children who need a little help with reading skills. I’m with a fifth grader who is reading a book about Venus and Serena Williams. I wear a mask, and she wears a mask, too, until she is eating her lunch, and reading sentences, between bites. (I’ve been reading with her since she was a first grader.)

Despite the months and months of mask-wearing, I often leave my car and get almost all the way into Target/Library/Grocery Store/Drug Store/and lots of other places, before turning around, going back to the car, and retrieving a mask from the turn signal lever on the steering column in the car, and heading back to Target/Library/Grocery Store/Drug Store/et.al.

But, I have begun to appreciate my mask more, now that winter is coming up. The temperatures in Central Texas aren’t usually extreme in winter. (Well, there was that EPIC February deep freeze last winter.) But it can be really windy, and combined with cold temps., the wind chill factor can cause folks to go racing to stores for heavier, woolier, outer wear.

And I am really glad, at this point in the year, that I actually have something that helps keep my nose warm. So, as I’m walking across a parking lot, on my way to Target/Library/Grocery Store/Drug Store/et.al., I’m much more comfortable than I ordinarily would have been, and am glad that I have my mask.

 

Give each other a warm greeting. I pray that God will give peace to everyone who belongs to Christ.

1 Pete 5:14 (Contemporary English Version)

 

There are lots of ways to be warm. I wish you all the warmth you need.

Come, Ye Thankful People, Come*

| Joy, Kindness

And we were thankful.

Kevin, April, and Peter came late Thursday afternoon. At one point, Peter had a grilled cheese sandwich, and we snacked on some things they had brought from April’s family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Friday, we got out the tree and the ornaments, and decked the halls.

 

Peter, who sleeps on a sturdy, blow-up mattress in our living room, had a large, glowing, tree-shaped nightlight, all night long.

On Friday, for lunch, we had a dinner that is popular with the family members. “Boats,” is how we refer to them, and the title of the product is “Old El Paso Soft Taco Boats,” so you can look that up. I put out vegetarian refried beans, cooked ground beef, rice, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, melted cheese sauce, and salsa, so everyone can make their own.

 

 

I had another plan, for a family project. Members of our church, in addition to several other churches in town, purchase items to donate to a local helping agency. That agency creates a store where families who have limited incomes can come purchase gifts for their children. They will pay a much lower price for these items, so they can have gifts for their kids and teen-agers. I suggested that Kevin could choose gifts for teen-aged boys, April could select gifts for teen-aged girls, David and Peter could find gifts for school-agers, and I would look for gifts for babies. And David and I would pay for all the gifts. Knowing that Friday morning could be really crowded, with all the post-Thanksgiving shoppers. I thought we should go to Target on Saturday morning. That was perfect. We were waiting at the doors at a few minutes before 8:00 a.m. As soon as the doors were opened, we got carts, fanned out, and shopped.

 

 

On Sunday, local bikers come to the churches and gather up the toys and gifts that were purchased. They roar up to each church, along with a truck that is pulling a trailer. All the toys and gifts are piled in and the bikers go on to another congregation.

 

 

 

If we can serve others, we should serve. If we can teach, we should teach. If we can encourage others, we should encourage them. If we can give, we should be generous. If we are leaders, we should do our best. If we are good to others, we should do it cheerfully.

Romans 12:7-8 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

*Hymn “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come”

Nicaragua

| Faithfulness, Kindness, Patience

The Nicaraguan school looks much like any other school.

At the International Christian School in Managua, Nicaragua, where my niece, Natalie, teaches, about 65% of the students are natural Nicaraguan, 25% are North American, and 10% are Asian. Many of the students are children of missionaries, and some have parents who have businesses there. The student body is made up of 3-year-olds through 12th graders.

 

Natalie with some of the graduating sixth graders

 

Natalie teaches Sixth graders, and Social Studies to both Fifth and Sixth graders. The Fifth grade teacher teaches Science to both Fifth and Sixth graders.

 

 

 

Many students in Nicaragua go to school from Pre-K through 6th grade. Graduating from 6th grade is a significant accomplishment for Nicaraguan students. They are given a diploma from the school and from the government. For many in the traditional Nicaraguan educational system, that is the end of their formal education. Others may go on for further classes.

 

 

 

Natalie lives in a house with 2 other teachers. They rent the house, and that’s where they have lived in previous school years. The compound also has another small house where an additional teacher lives. They share a car for traveling the five-minute drive to the school, going to church, and trips to the grocery store. Or, there might be a trip to a Pacific beach.

 

 

 

When I asked Natalie how much longer she plans to teach in Nicaragua, she said, “It’s a year by year decision.”  She’ll be leaving next week for the new year of teaching.

 

 

When I ask why she so much enjoys doing this work, she says:

I enjoy getting to work with this community of believers. Our school serves many missionary families who are serving the country of Nicaragua. Some are training and mentoring local pastors, some own businesses that employ and train Nicaraguans, and others work with ministries that serve Nicaraguans living in poverty or those with special needs. In addition to teaching the children of missionaries, I also teach Nicaraguan students whose families are influential in the community. Their parents may be pastors or business owners who are in a position of influence. It is our prayer that by helping raise up these students to love and serve Christ, they will be future leaders in creating positive change in their communities and the country of Nicaragua.

 

Natalie’s favorite Bible verse:

 

You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

Psalm 16:11 (New International Version)

 

 

Fire! Fire!

| Kindness, Patience, Peace

When I was in elementary school, I sang in our church’s Children’s Choir. We met every week at the music leader’s house, and that’s where I first learned about singing in rounds. The first one I learned was “Scotland’s Burning.” The third part of the round (after “Scotland’s burning; Scotland’s burning! Look out! Look out!) was the portion “Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!” That’s what I remember most clearly.

I had the experience recently of, well, not exactly singing, but more like yelping:

FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!

Solar lights with their solar panels, all packed up until next year.

We have solar outdoor lights that I put on the hedges at the front of the house at Christmas time. One set goes on the holly hedges. One set starts on the greenery on the porch railing and then goes on the holly bush at the end of the porch. Both of those sets are small lights. Another set of snowflake-shaped lights go on the boxwood at the corner of the house. I love these lights because I put them up and then press the “on” button on the little solar panels that are attached to the lights’ strings. They soak up the sunlight all day long, and then the lights come on when the sun goes down. They glow for a few hours, then they shut down, after using up all the sunlight-powered energy. The next day, they soak up the light again. They’re great.

After several chilly days, last Monday was warmer, and I went out to take down the lights. I wound the strands around large pieces of cardboard to store them. I finished the longer, small-bulbed lights. Then, I went over to take down the snowflake lights. I bent down to get the solar panels that were lying on the ground under the boxwood. I picked them up and dusted off the loose soil that was there. And, YOW! What?!? Fire Ants! I dropped the panels and, a little frantically, began to sweep the ants from my hands. Those ants mean business.

I went inside to wash my arms and hands to be sure I’d gotten all the ants off. I waited a few minutes and went back out. Fire ants erupt and swarm around for a few minutes, then they disappear down into the ground. I didn’t see any more of them, and, carefully went about the business of removing, quickly, the remaining strings of lights, and packing them up, looking carefully for any errant ants still lurking about.

Yucky looking fire ant sting

Monday, the stings were just rather painful. There were five on my left forearm, between my elbow and wrist, and two between fingers on my left hand. There were two, between fingers, on my right hand. It seems as though, while I was brushing ants from my right arm and hand, ants were busy on my left arm and hand. And that’s all there are, so I’m more fortunate that some folks. I put some anti-itch cream on the stings.

Tuesday, I put more cream on. Then, in the wee hours, Wednesday morning, the itchiness woke me up, and I eventually got up and re-applied the cream. I’ve heard about people who fell onto a bed of fire ants and were overwhelmed with stings. I’m assuming that those people would need to be hospitalized and sedated and in need of antibiotics. I don’t know how long it must take to recover. For me and my nine stings, I’m not miserable, just uncomfortable.

Wednesday, I needed to go to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription, and while I was there, asked the pharmacist what would be a good choice for treating fire ant stings. She not only told me what to get, but she walked me over to the aisle and picked up the tube of hydrocortisone cream (intensive healing formula), which I can apply 3 to 4 times daily. It’s much, much better. I’m wondering how long it’ll take for the stings to heal completely.

 

An untrustworthy messenger stirs up trouble, but a faithful emissary is curative balm.

Proverbs 13:17 (The Voice Translation)

 

As of Thursday evening, the stings don’t really look any better, but they don’t itch hardly at all. But, I’m still using that Pharmacist’s curative balm.

I Said I Didn’t Want It, But No One Paid Any Attention

| Faithfulness, Kindness, Love, Patience, Self-Control

I’ve been doing stuff with kids at church for quite some time: Children’s Choir, Preschool Choir, Wednesday night activities, and, finally, Preschool Sunday School.

I’ve had different configurations of groups. At the beginning, it was 4-year-olds. Then, we grouped Threes into the mix. Then, it was just Threes. Then it just varied for a few years, based on how many kids and how many adults and what sorts of spaces. For the last several years, it’s been Three-year-olds, Pre-Ks, and Kindergartners. A few years ago, I thought: “I’ll keep teaching Sunday School as long as I have Peter in my room.”

Fall, a year ago, Peter, as a first-grader, moved up to the Younger Elementary class. But, I had looked at the incoming Threes, and they were so very cute that I thought, “Okay. One more year. And THAT’S ALL!” They were just as charming as they were cute, and things went along quite nicely until mid-March, when everything came to a halt.

Each week, I would mail them the pages that they would have taken home from church, along with a note, or a game, or some cookies, or some crayons, or some stickers. At some point, I told the Children’s Minister that I would be done at the end of August. “Every part of me hurts,” I said. “My hands hurt. My knees hurt.” And, truly, I felt like I would soon be a liability instead of an asset. I also said that I didn’t want a deal, or a thing, or anything or the sort. I would just be done. She thought that the members of the Children’s committee should know, and I thought that they really didn’t. Because, I didn’t want a deal or a thing. And I thought that was that.

That was NOT that.

I got an e-mailed Agenda for an upcoming ZOOM Children’s Committee meeting which included an item “Gayle’s Announcement.” So, not exactly a private thing any more.

Someone at the meeting thought I needed a deal. The first thing that popped up was a post on Facebook, with a rather LARGE photo of me and the line “Shhhh. Don’t tell! We want to thank Gayle Lintz for 42 years of teaching Preschool Sunday School, by writing her letters, which we will give her later.” (Or something like that)

I e-mailed the Children’s Minister and said, “I AM on Facebook. FYI.”

My nice book of appreciation.

So, it wasn’t quite so secret after all. Then, the next plan was that the letters would be received and collected and given to me. The Children’s Minister recently contacted me and said that they’d like to give those to me during an upcoming worship service. At this point we’ve not been having worship services with a congregation. The staff comes and opens up the place on Sunday morning. There are instrumentalists (piano, organ, guitar, drums/percussion, and horn). There are four choir members who sing (all masked up) from the sanctuary platform while we participate from home via video. There are Scripture readings and a sermon and announcements and prayers. Last Sunday, we went, too. Kevin and April and Peter came for the weekend, also. We sat on one row, towards the front, all masked up. At the end of the service, I went up front and got a lovely book that had all the kind things that people had written for me.

 

 

 

 

And then . . .  I got this. And, for real, I was horrified. Because, over the years, various people have lobbied for just such a thing for one nursery teacher or elementary teacher or preschool teacher or another, and the general attitude as been that there have been many competent, capable, loving teachers through the years and we just cannot cover the walls with all of their names. So, I’m setting a precedent? I believe my response, when they picked it up to show me, was NOOOOOOOO. They were unmoved.

They said it went through the Children’s Committee and the Coordinating Council and I don’t know who all else. And it is a done deal.

 

 

I had insisted, when they said they wanted me to show up (to get those letters), that I wanted to speak. And, boy, did I speak. I talked about how, just because I’ve done the same thing for so many years, it doesn’t seem extraordinary, because so many people in the church have done a variety of things for many years, the sum total of which are just as significant as doing one thing for years. “Everybody does something,” I said. And I gave examples of the sorts of things that members of our church family have done, such as serving on committees, being deacons, being part of the choir (which means Wednesday night rehearsals and Sunday morning anthems), giving financially, praying diligently, and more. “Everybody does something,” I said. “EVERYBODY does something.” And I meant it.

 

 

 

 

Kevin took this photo, after everything was finished, to send to Jeremy, to show him how I feel about this. It’s so large I don’t know exactly where they plan to put it. Maybe they didn’t get that far in their thinking.

As we were leaving, Kevin pointed out the plaque that is on the organ, that honors a long-time organist. (You can actually see the edge of it in the photo above.) Then, in the hallway, he also reminded me of the photo hanging there, that recognizes a church member who, for many, many years, would cheerfully greet everyone who walked into the church and give them a hug.

Across the hallway from that photo, there’s a large plaque honoring the church’s first pastor. And, down in the Fellowship Hall, another portrait honoring a man who donated the money to renovate the that space. And, a large photo recognizing a beloved Minister of Education is upstairs in a meeting room.

So, while it does feel rather awkward, really awkward, I’m trying to become accustomed to the idea.

 

“Wonderful!” his master replied. “You are a good and faithful servant … Come and share in my happiness!”

from Matthew 25:21 (Contemporary English Version)

 

In an interesting, and amusing, mixup, three or four weeks ago, at the end of the video worship service, the Associate Pastor reminded people to send their letters to the church to be gathered to give me in a few weeks. And, again, I thought that they’ve just completely given up on any idea of those being a surprise. This past Sunday, he told me (in case I hadn’t heard it for myself) about that gaffe. He said that after the video streaming was shut off, other staff members came up to him, wide-eyed, to ask why he’d made that announcement, reminding him that is was supposed to be a surprise. He reminded them that there had been announcements and reminders in the church’s e-mailed newsletter for several weeks. Unbeknownst to him, the office staff had been creating special, sans-surprise, newsletters to be e-mailed to both me and David. And I, as always, very much enjoy a good, funny story. So, it all worked out.

I Think I Might Have a Stalker

| Gentleness, Kindness, Patience, Peace

I like to work outside. The weather’s nice right now, and there are fall-ish things to do, and I think that working in the yard is good for me, from a physical standpoint and a mental standpoint, too.

I enjoy the flora.

 

I like the fauna.

Last week, I was working in the back yard, trimming some lower hanging limbs in a space where I have a garden bench.

This is a nice shady spot and is particularly pleasant this time of year, when the temperatures are lower (much less sweatier) and I can sit and read. As I was trimming and neatening up the area, a bird flew by me and landed on that larger limb that’s running across the top of the photograph. Yes, right there in front of me. I took a step toward that limb and the bird just sat there, as if challenging me to bother him. I was amazed. I took another step forward. He cocked his head and turned and flew . . . to that next limb, as if to imply that, yes, he saw me, but he wasn’t at all bothered that I was right there!

He wasn’t somebody’s pet parakeet. He was a wild bird. He should have, I thought, been much more reluctant to be anywhere near me. Maybe someone else in the neighborhood feeds birds, and he just assumed that all of those big folks are regularly handing out treats.

I lopped off a couple more limbs, then gathered up my tools and walked up to the patio at the back of the house. And then, and I am not making this up, he followed me.

 

 

Apparently, he’s gotten bored with it all. I’ve been outside a couple of days this week, and I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s marshaling his forces and planning to return at some point, with reinforcements. I’ll send updates if he shows up again.

 

How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty!

My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—
a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

Psalm 84:1-3 (New International Version)

Hmmm. I’ve been saying “him,” but it might be “her.” Maybe I should be more charitable, and remember that having a home, a nest, a safe place, is universally important.

Four New Friends

| Joy, Kindness

Actually, not exactly new friends, but four new folks that I’ve been able to converse with, while all masked up.

I wrote, a few weeks ago, about my homemade, folded-up type of mask. I had two of them, and they were sort of warm, and, as summer approached, I looked for another option. I’d seen, on Facebook, a mask that I wanted. I ordered two of them.

I was grateful for the instructions, which included helpful illustrations. There were those two barrel-shaped things that I could attach to the elastic loops to make those loops fit my face. And, thank goodness, they included the very important paper clip, which I could use to pull the elastic through those barrels. I guess there are people who don’t have paper clips on hand. I have scores and scores of them. Of course, once you unbend one, they’re a little difficult to bend back into shape. I was, however, able to use the first paper clip to also adjust the second mask, so, at this point, I’m a paper clip ahead.

 

On Thursday, I met the fourth person who pointed to my mask and said, “University of Hawaii.” Not a questioning, “University of Hawaii?” But an assured, “University of Hawaii.”

 

The first person who said, “University of Hawaii,” was a pharmacist’s assistant at the Target pharmacy. “Yes,” I said, surprised, as it’s not a logo that most Central Texans easily identify.

He said that he’d lived there for a few years, when he was growing up. His dad was a career Air Force member. I said that my husband had also been in the Air Force, and that’s where I had finished college.

“You must have lived some interesting places,” I said.

“I was born in Iceland,” he said.

The next place that the mask got recognized was at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I was removing a cart from the row outside the door and was watching a little kid who was playing by the carts.

“It looks like you’re having fun today,” I said (as I cannot stop myself from talking to little kids, but when I do, I’m careful to keep my distance and keep my hands on my cart’s handle). A man with him (who I thought was his dad), said, “University of Hawaii.”

“Yes,” I said. And then a friend of theirs walked up, and I didn’t have an opportunity to talk more.

A couple of weeks ago, Jeremy came for a visit. We weren’t able to visit the restaurants that we might have chosen, in a less pandemic-type time, but we could order things and go, all masked, and pick them up. As we were leaving a sandwich place, to take our lunch home, a young man walked by and said, “University of Hawaii!”

I said, “Yes. How did you know?”

“My sister has just enrolled,” he said. “I went with my family to take her there.”

“That’s where I finished school,” I said.

And, then, the most recent recognizer, a guy at Wal-Mart.

“University of Hawaii,”  he said, as I walked by him. “Rainbow Warriors.”

“Yes,” I said. “How did you know?”

“I follow college sports,” he said.

“You must follow lots of teams,” I said.

“Well,” he said, “I’m from Los Angeles,” which explains why he might be well-versed in West Coast teams.

“I grew up here in Waco,” I said.  “My husband was in the Air Force when we were first married, and he was stationed at Hickam Air Force Base. Our two years in Honolulu were so very interesting. It broadened my horizons considerably. And I finished school there. So, yes, I am a Rainbow Warrior.”

He was now the local Coca-Cola distributor guy, and was checking on all the Coke products, which are numerous.

“Thanks for talking with me,” I said, after we chatted a few more minutes. “Welcome to the area.”

 

That’s why you must encourage and help each other, just as you are already doing.

1 Thessalonians 5:11 (Contemporary English Version)

 

I realize that, in Texas, people may be a little chattier than in some other places. But a nod and a smile aren’t difficult ways to make a brief connection. And, these days, it seems as though most folks are feeling a rather “we’re all in this together” sort of kinship. (Smile big, since it’s only your eyes that are showing.)

Shortly after I got the masks, grandson Peter came for a visit. After we’d run a few errands one afternoon, he said, “What’s that ‘H’ for, on your mask?” I said, “It’s where I went to college. Where I graduated from.” I held it up and said, “University of . . . . ” (I thought he might know, since his dad was born in Hawaii, right before we came back to Texas, and he knew that’s where Kevin was born.) Peter thought a moment, and said, “University of Hillsboro?” (Hillsboro, for you non-Texans, is a small town between Fort Worth and Waco, where we sometimes stop if we need gas or a bathroom break. Reasonable guess.)

 

 

Who Touched My Clothes?

| Kindness, Patience, Peace

To my contemporaries: Remember when we used to really dress up when we went to church? We had Sunday clothes and Sunday shoes and almost all the men wore suits and ties, and the women wore stockings and high heeled shoes. And hats!!

Thank goodness we’ve moved on.

Maybe in some churches, things are still rather formal. At our church (and in most churches I’ve been in over the past few years), we are a place where church folk can be comfortable and feel at home in more casual clothes. Clothes that are comfortable. Clothes that might cost less than dressy outfits and shoes. Clothes that do not have to be dry-cleaned. I can’t recall the last time I saw a man with a tie.

And, if I wore clothes that had to go to the dry-cleaners regularly, I would not be able to be a Sunday School teacher. A preschool Sunday School room is ‘way too messy for the wearing of silks and woolens.
Over the years, I’ve had the experience of looking down at my skirt, moments before walking up to the platform to read Scripture, and noticing a swath of purple paint across the hem.

I have sat in a pew and reached up to straighten my collar and felt the crusty, dried, results of a runny nose, wiped across my shoulder, deposited by a weeping child who felt left behind when her Mom and Dad went on to their own Sunday School room.

I have held, in my lap, a kid who seemed to be feeling a little poorly, and then felt the warmth of that “feeling poorly” run down my back.

I have, in a pale yellow dress, backed up to our drying rack, which held a painting that, in Early Childhood terms, is called Preschool Brown (the result of painting with great exuberance, using all the colors of paint available).
What’s happened to my clothes?!?

Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse.  She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak,  for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.”  Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”  And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’”

Mark 5:25-31 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

Getting close to folks means that we make a difference in their lives. These days, getting “close” can be more difficult. I feel frustrated by not really being able to smile at people. I’m nodding to people, and sometimes even saying, “I’m smiling at you,” to someone who holds a door for me or nods as we pass.
I was hurrying into Walgreens this morning, wanting to pick up a photo I needed. As I walked from my car, I saw a woman coming out of the store. With her mask on. MASK! I’d rushed out of the car and had forgotten mine. I turned around and went back for it. She’d had several bags to put in the car and was just getting in as I passed her car on my way back. I stopped a second to say, “I’m so glad I saw you coming out. I’d forgotten my mask!” She laughed and said, “Yeah. It’s different now.”
“Who touched my clothes?” “Who touched me?” Those questions seem harder to respond to right now. We’re not supposed to get quite so physically close as we might have a few months ago. No shaking hands. No hugs. Six feet apart seems like quite a distance. We’re being challenged to find ways for contact that are different from the usual. And aren’t we looking forward to the time when we can look back and say, “Wow. That was something, wasn’t it! But we made it through.”

 

Not Helpful/Helpful

| Kindness, Patience, Peace

I needed a new phone. I liked my phone, but it was becoming more and more erratic. I’d plug it in to recharge overnight, when it might be at 17% power, or so. Then, when I got up in the morning, it might be at 20% power. Or, 15% power. I’d assume that I’d just not pushed the charger end in adequately, and I’d try again, even though I’d been counting on its being fully charged, as I was headed outside to do some yard work and wanted to listen to a book. Some days, it would charge completely, and other days, not much at all.

Kevin and April and Peter came for Father’s Day (and a few days early, to work on that garage storage stuff). I talked to Kevin about the problem, and he said it sounded like I needed a new phone. And, his idea was that, when I brought Peter (who was staying with us for several days after Kevin and April went back to Fort Worth) back home, we could go to the Apple store.

April said why didn’t we just go to the AT&T store, right here in Waco. Kevin said that the Apple store was so wonderful and had so many interesting, exciting things to see, and, as long as I was coming up anyway, we might as well go there. That’s the plan we made.

Kevin called me a couple of days before I was bringing Peter home and said that the Apple store requires making an appointment to come in, and would that be all right, and I said “sure,” so he said he’d make the appointment. Then, when I took Peter back, Kevin said that, well, you can’t actually go into an Apple store unless you have a problem or need a repair, and, yes, we were going to have to go to the Fort Worth AT&T store to get the phone. And, yes, indeed, April was right. We did go to the Fort Worth AT&T store, where I got a new phone.

They didn’t have much of a variety of phone cases for my phone, so I didn’t get one there. When I got back to Waco, I stopped at Target, where I’d gotten the case for my previous phone, which was a lovely pink, and the case was clear on the back, so the lovely back showed. At Target, there was only one case labeled for my phone, and it was really unattractive. The next morning, I headed out to look other places. April had said that she’d sometimes gotten phone cases at Best Buy, so I tried there. They had lots and lots of phone cases, but I couldn’t find a single one that was labeled for my phone. I walked around, all bent over, because nothing was at my eye level, and, while there were several staff people there, no one seemed available to help me find what I needed. And, there was a guy doing some repairs, or maybe changing lightbulbs, on a scissor lift, and every time he had to move the lift, he was (I suppose) required to sound a warning beep, to let nearby folks know he was moving. It was a LOUD warning beep. And it was going off every three or four minutes. And I finally had to leave. Too much noise. Not enough employees to be able to help. No cases for my phone.

I left and went next door to an Office Depot store. It was much quieter there, and the employees were just as helpful as the ones at Best Buy. And, I couldn’t find any cases that were labeled for my phone. As I left the store, I thought that I should just go over to the Waco AT&T store, where I thought there were would at least be the same couple of cases that had been available at the Fort Worth store.

But, first, I needed to go to Wal-Mart, which was on the way. I had a variety of items on my list, and, before I headed to the grocery area, I walked past the electronics area at the back of the store and thought, maybe they have phone cases. And, of course they did. I went to one of the cases labeled “iPhone” and bent over to start looking. Before I had read the label of a single case, an employee was at my side. “Can I help,” she said. I said I needed a case for my phone, but I’d not been able to find one identified as being for my phone. And she said, “Oh, these cases here will work with your phone,” and she pointed to a whole row of cases that, while labeled for one kind of phone, would also work with mine. “Which one do you like?” I chose one of the several cases there.

I said, “Great, I like this one.” And she said, “Are you comfortable checking out back here (in that department)?” And I said, “Sure.” And in about three minutes we were done. I guess I’ve been selling Wal-Mart short when it comes to customer service.

 

She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night.
She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

Proverbs 31: 18, 26 (New International Version)

 

Standing on your feet all day, trying to help a wide clientele of shoppers, knowing all the characteristics of all the products, staying happy, engaged, and informative, well, it just cannot be all that easy. I certainly hope it’s fulfilling.

The New(er) Routine

| Faithfulness, Joy, Kindness

For many, many years, my Sunday morning routine would be to get up at a reasonable time, get ready for church, pick up my church bag, and leave the house by 8:00 a.m. or so, maybe as early as 7:30, depending on how much I would need to do to get the Sunday School room ready for preschoolers.

Sometimes, I might need to laminate pictures for a game (requiring turning the laminating machine on and waiting for it to heat up). I would probably need to return the past week’s puzzles to the resource room and pick up some different ones, instead. I would put away materials from the previous Sunday and put out new items. Just business as usual.

Our play dough might be getting stiff; we would need to make a new batch, so I’d need to get out the ingredients, measuring utensils, and the electric skillet. And a wooden spoon. Kids really enjoy stirring the play dough ingredients in the skillet. Sometimes I have to remind them that it will never be play dough if they don’t stop stirring and let me move the skillet to the counter where I can cook it.

These days, I’ve lolled myself into a new, lazy routine. Now, our church service begins, online, Sunday morning at 10:45. I don’t have to gather up stuff; I don’t have to tote anything to a different location; I don’t have to drive anywhere. I do get dressed, but, really, I could be attending church in my nightgown every Sunday morning.

It’s calm. It’s restful. But, it’s not as much fun as spending the Sunday School hour with a bunch of little kids. And, who knows when we’ll be back to a usual routine. In the meantime . . .

Here’s what I’m doing. I have the take-home pupil leaflets for each Sunday School lesson. From the beginning of “not going to church on Sunday,” I’ve mailed those leaflets to the kids, along with a little “I miss being with you” note. After a couple of weeks, I sent other things, too.

 

 

One of my favorite enclosures was a blank 4×6 index card. On one side, I had my mailing address, my return address label, and a postcard stamp. I suggested that the kids draw a picture for me and then mail it to me. Several children did that. Then, I took photos of myself, holding each individual child’s drawing, and I e-mailed them a thank-you note.

 

Getting mail is fun for them, and getting mail is fun for me, too.

 

 

Peter was here last weekend. On Sunday morning, we watched a video Sunday School lesson presented by his Sunday School teacher at his church. And, we watched an extra lesson recorded by his mom, who is the church’s Children’s Minister. Then, Peter watched the Facebook worship presentation from our church. And, later, at 1:00, he participated in the 1st-3rd grade Zoom Sunday School from our church. They had suggested that all the kids bring something from their kitchen. Peter took a large pot.

The Bible story was Jesus’ teaching from Matthew 25: “When I was hungry, you gave me something to eat, and when I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink. When I was a stranger, you welcomed me, and when I was naked, you gave me clothes to wear. When I was sick, you took care of me, and when I was in jail, you visited me.” The Sunday School teacher explained that doing kind and helpful things for others is like doing kind and helpful things for Jesus.

Then she asked what kind and helpful things the children could do for other people. She waited for a moment, giving the kids time to think and answer. And, Peter said (without prompting), “Tomorrow, my grandmother and I are going shopping to buy things for, um, (prompt from me) the Family Pantry.”

That was, indeed, the plan we had made. Our church is partnering with several other churches around town and a couple of local helping agencies to provide a place where people who have lost jobs and have great needs and little income can get food and other supplies for their families.

(The kitchen items they brought to Zoom Sunday School were also a prompt for talking about ways to help people who are hungry.)

And, Monday morning, before Peter went back to Fort Worth, we made a trip to Dollar Tree. The helping agencies make a list each week of the needed items, and people from the churches shop for those things, as much as they’re able to provide. We then deliver them to a local church that has made its Fellowship Hall into a store for these families. (It’s a ring-our-bell-and-we’ll-come-out-and-get-your-stuff arrangement, so that no one’s too close, and we’re all masked up.)

 

I rejoiced with those who said to me, “Let’s go to the house of the Lord.”

Psalm 122:1 (Christian Standard Bible)

For now, the house of the Lord is my office space, where I attend worship service at Calvary Baptist Church of Waco each Sunday morning. I do put on clothes, and don’t stay in my nightgown all morning. Our service is live, and not a recorded video. Announcements, music, everything is live. Peter’s church’s service is recorded (which has its benefits, as church members can view it any time that’s convenient for them). Our service looks different, because it’s not taking place in the church’s sanctuary. Our preacher preaches from the living room, or even the patio (which Peter found amazing), now that the weather is warmer. I must admit, that, now that I’m at home . . .

I can knit while I’m at worship service.