April 10 – “Feted with flowers”

I had a visit yesterday from my new neighborhood friends.  I was working in the garage on one of the myriad hundred or so projects left over from Hurricane Ike.  This one involved sanding.  I completed one little chair that we have had for a long time, and covered it with a combination stain and varnish that we had on hand.  Loonked pretty good.  Then I started on a vanity bench that I think Chris got from one of her grandmothers.  It had a top covered in fabric that was pretty ugly looking, so I peeled that off first, only to reveal a second layer that actually looked pretty nice.  It had that antique look to it.  I peeked under it, and there was at least one more layer under that one.  It was some kind of ugly gold stuff, so I left it at the second layer.    It got pretty hot in the garage, even with the fan going, and I wanted to sit down for awhile, so I moved the project to the front porch and relaxed in one of the rocking chairs.  It was cloudy, and with Galveston's perpetual breeze, it was nice.  I had our usual neighborhood walkers wave and shout greetings.  The man down the street who told me he goes by the name Smiley was walking his dog.  Three teenagers stopped by.  They were from a Lutheran church downtown.  They were on a door to door mission to talk to people about Jesus, so I gladly let them share with me.  They did a pretty decent job.  I think it kind of surprised them when I said I knew for sure I was going to heaven.  They got it back together, though, and asked me how I knew.  As it turned out, my answer – because I have prayed and asked Jesus to take control of my life – matched up exactly with the material they were using.  They still wanted to tell me why they were going there, too, so I gladly listened.  Always nice to meet someone else I am going to be spending eternity with.    They finished their spiel and moved on.  And as they walked away, here came the neighborhood kids.  ShayShay (she spelled it for me), NayNay (I just guessed on spelling), and Tamaira, who also goes by TeeTee.  DeAndre and his brother were at basketball practice.  They wanted to know if those people had given me a piece of paper like theirs.  Then they wanted to help me with yard work again.  Then they wanted to help with the sanding project.  Then they wanted to go see the dogs.  I could barely get out one answer before they were on to the next thing.  They wandered away for a few minutes, and when they returned it was with hands behind their backs and grins on their faces.  "We have something to give you," they chorused excitedly.  "And what would that be?" I asked, looking up from my toil.  "It's flowers!" they squealed, revealing their treasure trove of those little yellow flowers.  They grow wild, and in some circumstances I would without hesitation call them weeds.  But not right then.  Right then they were a beautiful expression of child-like, unrestrained giving.    Later on Mom asked if they knew who I was.  I told her, "Sure.  I'm the old guy who lets them help when I work in the yard."  I knew she wanted me to tell them I'm "The Preacher," but it sure is nice to have some friends who accept me for just being "the old guy," without any preconceived notions about preachers tainting the relationship.  Mom joined me on the porch for the rest of the afternoon.  I'm pretty sure she was planning to set the record straight and make sure they knew who it was they were talking to.  The kids never came back, though.  Ignorance is bliss.   Lamentations 3:22-24 says, "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.'"   Father, thank you for being someone I can count on.  Amen.