Cold breakfasts and missing shuttle buses

I ate breakfast this morning at one of those restaurants where you place your order at one end of the counter and pick it up at the other end of the counter. When we walked into the nearly-empty restaurant, we were greeted warmly. The order-taker was friendly and professional, handing us our drinks with a smile. Everything was going well up to that point.

And then we tried to acquire our food. No one appeared to be working in the food preparation area. I asked at the counter, and the friendly person assured me that our food was being prepared. After a few minutes, a person appeared and sullenly began to slice bread.  I couldn’t help but asking if it was our food.  No, someone else’s food. Another silent person appeared grumpily from the back and began working on something else.  We remained standing awkwardly at the counter until finally giving up and getting a seat.  After awhile, our names were called and we returned to the once-again deserted counter to pick up our rapidly-cooling food. It felt like our breakfast order had been a huge imposition on the food prep staff. My breakfast companion confided similar experiences at this restaurant at lunchtime.  We both wondered how a restaurant could have such friendly staff at the counter and cleaning up in the dining room, with such a different type of staff fixing the food. 

Similarly, at an airport parking lot, my husband and I have had the same experience a total of 3 times between us.  The man at the gate directs us to a specific row, and then the shuttle bus never shows up.  We each have had to walk from the far back corner of the lot to the front entrance to catch a bus. (I’m talking about you, The Parking Spot at MCI!)  The gate personnel are friendly, but the actual job of transporting passengers from their car to the terminal doesn’t get done.

Really, the most important thing for any business is making sure that the core task gets done well.  As churches, it can be easy for us to mistake friendliness with our core task of inviting people into a deeper experience of their faith and service to the world. Sometimes we get it right, and sometimes we miss it entirely. Sadly, when we as the church miss an opportunity, it doesn’t just mean someone eats a cold breakfast or has to walk a half mile toting luggage. It means that an opportunity to share God’s love in a meaningful way has wandered past us, perhaps never to come our way again. And that opportunity is too important to miss.

Running Partners

Saturday was the JDRF 5K that I’ve been Couch-to-5King for the past seven weeks.  I was pleased to see that out of the 100ish runners (versus the 11,000 walkers), there were more Ginger Avenger shirts than for any other team!  By my count, we had 10 Ginger Avengers running, and another 17 walking.  I am thankful for everyone that wore the name “Ginger Avenger.”

In preparation for this run, I had loaded a book I’d been looking forward to into my Audible app on my phone. When they said, “Go!,” I pushed play and started running. I was feeling proud of myself, ready for anything. And then I realized that I had neglected to start my running app that would track my distance and my time. Without an official timer on the course, I would have no idea how I had done. I needed that app working, so I started flipping through my phone to get it going.  While trying to start that app, my book-out-loud stopped. Then random music started. Then I hit the wrong thing and ended up somewhere else on my phone entirely, still trying to get my race-timer app going. 

All while I was running.

Have I ever mentioned that I get nauseated really easily?

By the time I finally had the right applications open and the wrong stuff closed, I was well into the race. I looked up for the first time and came to rapid realization. I felt awful.  My stomach was unhappy, and I had been paying no attention to my stride or my breathing. I was pooped, sick, and only ½ mile into the race.  There was no way I could make it. I was ready to quit. 

At the moment when I was about to give up, I noticed movement to my right. Although most of the runners had run ahead while I was fumbling with my phone, there was someone beside me. It was one of the Ginger Avengers.  He stayed right at my elbow for awhile, almost as if he was pushing me forward with his very presence. He never said anything to me, but his presence helped me settle into my running rhythm. Before long, I knew I could do it. It was right about that time that he moved ahead of me to run his own race at his own pace, with neither of us having said a word. What a wonderful gift!  Thanks, Murray!

I can look at so many moments in my life when the same thing has happened. Just the right person has come alongside of me at just the right time.  Sometimes they are aware of it, many times they are not. It just seems to be one of the ways God works.

No matter what, none of us is ever really alone, whether we are sweating through a race or simply trying to get through the day.  Just look to your side, you’ll never know who you’ll find there.

Blown Across the Highway

Thursday evening, I was driving home along I-70 from a meeting in Columbia and could see imposing clouds gathering ahead of me. Checking the radar while stopped for gas, I realized that a massive cold front with a squall line and heavy rain stood between me and home. It was inevitable that I would run into the front, and I hoped only get as many miles behind me as possible beforehand.

I drove alertly, with both hands on the wheel at 10:00 and 2:00, as I drew closer to the dark clouds ahead.  Suddenly, my car was blown across both lanes of the highway. I will never know how I missed the truck I had been passing, or how I didn’t blow off the road. It was like hydroplaning, but sideways and without water. My steering wheel didn’t budge, I was simply picked up and blown across the road.  In those harrowing moments, I realized one of the ways my darling little fuel-efficient, plug-in hybrid keeps its mpg so low (70.6 mpg for the first 5000 miles).  It is a light car. Even when I was fully prepared for the blast that was coming, my car was too light to withstand the wind. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I still love my little car, but it’s not the vehicle for storms on a highway.  

This morning, I was at Hopefest, a day of fun/music/food/social services provided by five Blue Springs churches for families that live year-round in the motels along I-70. I’ve been in those rooms more than once before, delivering food or other necessities to families in need.  The rooms look just like any motel room anywhere else: 2 beds and a television on a dresser, with a bathroom at the back.  Perhaps a microwave oven.  Families with children live there. Let me repeat. Families with children live year-round in a motel room.  School buses come by to pick up kids for school each morning. After school, they return to a motel room, a pool that is shuttered for the winter, and some weedy fields to play in by the side of the highway. There is no privacy, and beds are shared. Food is whatever the parents can afford that can be cooked in a microwave. There is no ability to make the food budget go farther with scratch cooking, nor can one make healthy food choices that would involve a cooktop or regular oven. Don’t get me wrong- families that are fleeing bad situations are thankful for a place to stay. However, a motel room is no place to raise a family over the long term.

As I’ve stood in various overcrowded motel rooms with my too-few gifts, I’ve heard stories of leaving in the middle of the night to escape physical violence.  Some people need to get away from an environment that threatens them or their children with drugs or gangs. Others have lost jobs. In general, the folks are doing the best that they can, but they have few options.  The rest of us have the privilege of taking for granted that we live in a safe place, are in relationships with caring and gentle people, and have family and friends that would take us in if we knocked at the door.  

For folks that have none of those things, there is no safety and no safety net. Even when they try as best as they can, sometimes they end up blown across the road by circumstances. Today, for awhile, those families that have gotten blown across to our piece of the highway were able to enjoy a lovely fall day with people who care.