Book Drawing: Leave a comment here or email me at writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter your name for an April book drawing to win a copy of The Stained Glass Pickup.
**********************************************************************************
Do you sit next to someone in a doctor’s waiting room? Probably depends on the visit, whether for a contagious cold or a broken toe. Seating choice may depend upon your personality. While some folk will talk to furniture, others prefer hermit-hood, a magazine and a lone chair in a corner.
Once in a doctor’s waiting room, a woman and I began a conversation. In her seventies and a native Texan, she’d lived in the Montgomery area all her life. I recognized a tender heart when she told how sorry she felt for dairy cows when newborn calves are taken away.
In our roving conversation, she reminisced about Sundays and her mother, who took her many children to church in a horse-drawn wagon. My waiting room companion recalled asking her mother why she always carried a “switch and a Bible” into the church house, but said her mother only “waggled” the switch to control her children’s antics.
When services grew long and children grew squirmy, her mother allowed each little one to traipse to the wagon, alone, for refreshment. When her turn came, she found treats under the springboard seat, a jug of water and home made tea cakes—warm as sunshine.
Another day, another waiting room, my Mom and I listened for her name to be called. On that winter day, it became obvious that the flu bug had made many house calls. As the coughing, sneezing, Kleenex-toting crowd gathered, the newbies scanned the room and chose seats.
Through mannerisms, they posted “No Vacancy” signs in their seating zones. Mom had a cold and I paid attention to her that day and didn’t make any new acquaintances either.
One of the reasons folks are drawn to Jesus, the Son of God, is his willingness to hear our stories—to come along side to commiserate, comfort or guide. He describes himself as a gentle teacher, humble in spirit, who knows how to give rest to burdened souls (Matthew 11:28-30).
Isn’t Jesus appealing? I want to sit next to him. We can take turns talking and listening, but I think listening will be most beneficial. The year 2008 finds our nation in a great big waiting room, running over with blessings and illnesses.
People of prayer can be the link between solutions and the mighty hand of God. National Prayer Day is May 1, next Thursday. Across this nation, communities will host public prayer. In my hometown the gathering is at Cedar Brake Park, Montgomery, TX, from noon until 12:30 p. m., organized by Lakeside Bible Church.
Whether you’re chatty or quiet, join your neighborhood prayer vigil next Thursday. You’ll hear a prayer or story of faithfulness that will refresh your life—like a jug of water and a tin of teacakes, warm as sunshine.
Showing posts with label friendliness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendliness. Show all posts
Friday, April 25, 2008
Friday, October 05, 2007
Friendly Award
A man who has friends must himself be friendly~ Proverbs18:24
In the past when someone labeled Texans as unfriendly, I bristled, like the spine-fur on a dog’s neck when its territory is threatened. Even in our huge-hearted state, the unfriendly-label-blanket can be thrown over an entire community when visitors encounter town grouches.
My husband David and I would like to give out a “friendly” award to the Northeast town of Gloucester, Massachusetts. Last week in Gloucester, David and his army buddy (Vietnam) Chris Larsen reunited for the first time in nearly four decades. Over the years, phone calls and mail kept them in touch, and we finally met his lovely wife Joan and family.
Of Finnish descent, Chris Larsen comes from a long line of stout-hearted commercial fishermen. Lost at sea, his grandfather’s and uncle’s names are at a cenotaph, a memorial to those whose remains are elsewhere.
One memorial features a fisherman’s wife and two children gazing toward the Atlantic horizon, searching the seascape for the husband and father they kissed goodbye. Some 10,000 Gloucester fishermen have lost their lives since the 1600s. Over 5,000 known names are honored at the memorials.
Chris owns Larsen’s Shoes on Main Street, a much safer occupation. On a touristy Saturday, he didn’t open his store. Instead, he guided us around Cape Ann. We visited granite rock quarries, wharfs, filming locations for the movie “The Perfect Storm” (about the fishing vessel, “Andrea Gail,” lost at sea 1991). I dipped my toes in the Atlantic, just because I could.
At Stage Fort Park, we walked Half Moon Beach, home to a 1600’s settlement. And, moored on towering rocks we photographed an arsenal of antique cannons, jutting toward the Atlantic. There, we climbed atop 50 foot granite boulders.
Driving in any new area can be challenging. In Gloucester, some streets allow for parking on both sides, narrowing the lane for moving vehicles. Traffic rotaries are abundant, road-hubs where—three, four or five—side roads converge onto the paved circle. Rotary vehicles have the right of way, but on other roads, Chris said, “Everyone has the right-of-way.”
When Dave and I drove in town, friendly folk often let us cut in line. We’d be waiting to turn out of a parking lot onto a busy street, and a charitable driver would stop, honk-honk, and wave us into the traffic. Innumerable times.
Soon, we too had our windows down, waving cars into the bumper-to-bumper parade ahead of us. Like a communicable disease, Massachusetts friendliness went around, and we caught some.
While there, we discussed wild turkeys. Massachusetts still has plenty. To our surprise in downtown Boston a few days later from a trolley window, we saw a lone wild turkey foraging with pigeons on a grassy area. The easygoing pigeons seemed to accept him as one of their own.
To glimpse God’s extravagant handiwork and experience pleasant people, visit Gloucester. And I imagine our friend Chris could outfit you with a nice pair of walking shoes, too.
In the past when someone labeled Texans as unfriendly, I bristled, like the spine-fur on a dog’s neck when its territory is threatened. Even in our huge-hearted state, the unfriendly-label-blanket can be thrown over an entire community when visitors encounter town grouches.
My husband David and I would like to give out a “friendly” award to the Northeast town of Gloucester, Massachusetts. Last week in Gloucester, David and his army buddy (Vietnam) Chris Larsen reunited for the first time in nearly four decades. Over the years, phone calls and mail kept them in touch, and we finally met his lovely wife Joan and family.
Of Finnish descent, Chris Larsen comes from a long line of stout-hearted commercial fishermen. Lost at sea, his grandfather’s and uncle’s names are at a cenotaph, a memorial to those whose remains are elsewhere.
One memorial features a fisherman’s wife and two children gazing toward the Atlantic horizon, searching the seascape for the husband and father they kissed goodbye. Some 10,000 Gloucester fishermen have lost their lives since the 1600s. Over 5,000 known names are honored at the memorials.
Chris owns Larsen’s Shoes on Main Street, a much safer occupation. On a touristy Saturday, he didn’t open his store. Instead, he guided us around Cape Ann. We visited granite rock quarries, wharfs, filming locations for the movie “The Perfect Storm” (about the fishing vessel, “Andrea Gail,” lost at sea 1991). I dipped my toes in the Atlantic, just because I could.
At Stage Fort Park, we walked Half Moon Beach, home to a 1600’s settlement. And, moored on towering rocks we photographed an arsenal of antique cannons, jutting toward the Atlantic. There, we climbed atop 50 foot granite boulders.
Driving in any new area can be challenging. In Gloucester, some streets allow for parking on both sides, narrowing the lane for moving vehicles. Traffic rotaries are abundant, road-hubs where—three, four or five—side roads converge onto the paved circle. Rotary vehicles have the right of way, but on other roads, Chris said, “Everyone has the right-of-way.”
When Dave and I drove in town, friendly folk often let us cut in line. We’d be waiting to turn out of a parking lot onto a busy street, and a charitable driver would stop, honk-honk, and wave us into the traffic. Innumerable times.
Soon, we too had our windows down, waving cars into the bumper-to-bumper parade ahead of us. Like a communicable disease, Massachusetts friendliness went around, and we caught some.
While there, we discussed wild turkeys. Massachusetts still has plenty. To our surprise in downtown Boston a few days later from a trolley window, we saw a lone wild turkey foraging with pigeons on a grassy area. The easygoing pigeons seemed to accept him as one of their own.
To glimpse God’s extravagant handiwork and experience pleasant people, visit Gloucester. And I imagine our friend Chris could outfit you with a nice pair of walking shoes, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
