The Greeters

COFFEE WAS ALL THE TALK in the foyer yesterday morning, 8:20.

“Had my first taste of coffee when I was just a young child.”

I can’t for the life of me recall how it came up, but there I was, well-greeted by the two gentlemen who man the door.

They always look so happy to see me, possible backslider, sporadic attender. (They don’t know I’m at 9:45 the other 3 Sundays of the month.)

They shook my hand and gave me a bulletin.

“Yep, I was just a boy. My mother would pour some over a piece of toast, then sprinkle sugar on top.”

“I take mine straight up. Nothing added,” said the other, dapper in his green sport jacket.

“That was our breakfast sometimes. French toast, so to speak. That’s how poor we were. Didn’t have no syrup, so she poured on coffee and sugared it.”

WHY IS IT these little conversations seem more important to me than almost anything else I hear? Nonsensical perhaps, inconsequential, with no claims for world peace or rescue for the economy or cures for cancer. But by them I am rendered rich and made to feel the luckiest girl in the world. All before 8:30 on a Sunday morning. The real stuff of life.

* * *

The candidates descend on Ohio now and I’m fairly certain nothing I hear will inspire me as much as this minute or two with the church greeters.

You might also like:

Oldest Woman in the Church

Old Man in the Red Sweater


About Marilyn

Reading, thinking, listening, writing and talking about faith, creativity, ESL for refugees, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. Cheez-it fan. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. Thank you so much for reading.
This entry was posted in community, delight, Gratitude Journal, most excellent gifts, Multitude Mondays, people, relationship, Sabbath, you can't make this stuff up. Bookmark the permalink.

Share your thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s