Precious friends
Sometimes I get the blues and forget how precious friends can be. I get ornery and wonder why my friends are so thoughtless. Sometimes days go by without hearing from them, then along comes an invitation to a party for one of them. Sure enough an invitation to a surprise birthday party for Vivian's 66th birthday. The same group let my 70th go by without a word. I get mighty ticked and decide not to go, then I get bored and decide why not. So Off I go and because it is to be at a sports center, I bring my nine-year old grandson . I figure might as well get something out of this besides food I don't need. Off we go at 3:30 pm on one of the coldest days we've had this year.
The party turned out really well and I get over my mean self pretty quickly. The food is good and the company decent. I can watch my grandson have a really good time running and playing on the tumbling equipment with other kids. Now Vivian is the preachers wife and says she loves me. If I am out sick however I never hear from her. So, when she says, missed you, love you, I usually say, no you don't or you would check on me. It's not that, she says, I'm just lazy. The preacher never calls either. I've been with these people for about twenty years and sometime try another church. I usually come back tho for it feels like home. I can say what I feel and still be accepted. They have been with me thru deaths, illness, surgery, etc. Both mine and theirs. The preaches has had 3 back surgeries and heart surgery and she had some kind of mystically illness that never was diagnosed.
Back to the party. At closing up time my grandson and I head for the car and I see that a tire is nearly flat on my car. It is getting dark and one of the coldest days we've had this year. Igo back in the building and tell my preacher that I have a low tire and need someone to follow me somewhere to get it aired up. Now the tire is almost flat and several men need to observe and diagnose the problem. Eventually, I decide to slowly go down the road to the nearest station with the preacher and his son following my car. When we get there, the son feels to air machine and the preacher drops to his knees to remove the cap from the tire stem. My grandson is right in there as well with a lesson learned in how to air a tire. When we get done I head home with a cell phone and instructions to call if we don't make it and I start thinking.
How many kpeople have a church like that?
How many people have a preacher like that?
How can I be so peavish with them when time and time again over the last twenty years they have been there for me?
The week my husband died they came to the house and cut an over grown yard for me. This in a hot August Alabama.
They have prayed with me and been there thru every crisis.
How can I get so mean with people who have been so good to me?
Then I think, it is sort of like that with God as well, isn't it?
So easy to see what is not done for us instead of centering on our blessings. I will do better.
The party turned out really well and I get over my mean self pretty quickly. The food is good and the company decent. I can watch my grandson have a really good time running and playing on the tumbling equipment with other kids. Now Vivian is the preachers wife and says she loves me. If I am out sick however I never hear from her. So, when she says, missed you, love you, I usually say, no you don't or you would check on me. It's not that, she says, I'm just lazy. The preacher never calls either. I've been with these people for about twenty years and sometime try another church. I usually come back tho for it feels like home. I can say what I feel and still be accepted. They have been with me thru deaths, illness, surgery, etc. Both mine and theirs. The preaches has had 3 back surgeries and heart surgery and she had some kind of mystically illness that never was diagnosed.
Back to the party. At closing up time my grandson and I head for the car and I see that a tire is nearly flat on my car. It is getting dark and one of the coldest days we've had this year. Igo back in the building and tell my preacher that I have a low tire and need someone to follow me somewhere to get it aired up. Now the tire is almost flat and several men need to observe and diagnose the problem. Eventually, I decide to slowly go down the road to the nearest station with the preacher and his son following my car. When we get there, the son feels to air machine and the preacher drops to his knees to remove the cap from the tire stem. My grandson is right in there as well with a lesson learned in how to air a tire. When we get done I head home with a cell phone and instructions to call if we don't make it and I start thinking.
How many kpeople have a church like that?
How many people have a preacher like that?
How can I be so peavish with them when time and time again over the last twenty years they have been there for me?
The week my husband died they came to the house and cut an over grown yard for me. This in a hot August Alabama.
They have prayed with me and been there thru every crisis.
How can I get so mean with people who have been so good to me?
Then I think, it is sort of like that with God as well, isn't it?
So easy to see what is not done for us instead of centering on our blessings. I will do better.
Replies
Oh, do I understand this post! I was born and raised in the church of my parents and grandparents. I left for a time to figure out why I went there. Somehow it seemed just because I was brought there as a child shouldn\'t be the only reason. I took the knowledge I had in my head and the Lord made it real. I later returned to the church of my roots. Many years later my husband died and I felt deserted by my church. I needed support so badly and they weren\'t there. I have no church now for the past years and I am lost. Loving the Lord, but missing the fellowship. I tried going back and feel nothing. So what do I do now? Sorry for stealing your post. Sharon
By the end... I was teary but with a smile. This is what I came to love about you. And helped me learn...wrestling with ourselves...and then theres that whispery nudge to ...well....do better. I want a church home....where i go there is a huge congregation. Alistair Begg is the pastor. He is awesome but I still smoke and I sit in church in fear....everyone can smell it. They all...in my eyes look like they lead these story book lives...and theres me...all alone and probably looking rough around my edges...smelling like a stinky cigarette. LoL even if its dark...I drive 6 miles before I will smoke. My hands are well worn hands who have worked hard for me...that i hide at the sight of pretty polished nails and smooth hands. I have to work many Sundays so I always feel like a guest. I miss the small town church I went to with my gram.
you surely are a blessing to your church family. And like our family.. we overlook needs.
I just admire how you got up and went anyway...took your grandson...enjoyed yourselves on a blistery cold day. Theres something that just makes you smile inside when you know people would rather be anywhere else than the side of the road...freezing. Made me smile for you....and what your grandson got from that. Great journal thoughts...we can all relate to.