The Intruder

"What is HE doing here?"

I looked up from my fried chicken and noticed a man who had stepped just inside the doors of the fellowship hall.  He cautiously moved forward, as if even he was unsure of what he was doing.

"What could that black man possibly want?"

His pants were worn, his boots had some paint on them and he wore a Gators sweatshirt.  He seemed slightly uncomfortable, but almost as if he was looking for someone.

I looked away.  I figured he probably had a meeting with someone, and whoever had said those comments just must not have known he was here for an appointment.  Right?

Until five minutes later, when he was still standing there, and the whispering (in groups at this point) had gotten louder.  Looking back over at him, there was something in his face that struck me deep inside.  As the groups of whispering grew ever louder, something inside me snapped.  And I walked over to him.

"The Gators weren't so hot this year were they?"

A smile spread across his face.  He replied, "I know, they sure were missing Tebow."

"I would too if I were them!" I laughed.  And his smile grew.

But then, one of the whisperers walked up to us.  "What do you want?" she said, a fierce look on her face as she approached him.  Immediately his face changed.

"Is the pastor here?"

"No."


"Well are there some members from the church that I could talk to?"

"I'm a member of the church.  You can come in the kitchen and talk with some of us."





And with a solemn look, he followed the woman into the kitchen.
_______________________________________________


I don't actually know what happened to the man.  I don't know if he was looking to talk to someone, or was asking for money or food or a ride somewhere.  But whatever it was, he was bold enough to walk into a church- a church, imagine that!- and look for help.  And I know he was turned away.



When he walked through those doors, he wasn't greeted with the arms of Jesus.  He wasn't even greeted with a smile.  He was greeted as an intruder, an outsider not just of the literal church and its members but an outsider in respects to race and, judging solely on his clothing, probably economic class.  The man's situation- that he would walk into a church he doesn't know and ask for help- hit me deeply. 

But even more heartbreaking was the church's response.  I don't think the church necessarily should have given him money, if that was even what he was asking for (though I do believe that we should most often err on the side of grace).  But the man wasn't even treated as a man, but more like an annoying fly that needed to be swatted away.  He was interrupting our meal, afterall.  His humanity forgotten, there was no reason to talk with him, to welcome him in or to show him even one bit of dignity.

And I wept.   

Forgive us, Lord, we pray.

An unexpected trip to Florida

Tomorrow morning- 6am to be exact- we head out to Pensacola to celebrate the life and mourn the passing of M's grandfather.

Pop has struggled with Alzheimer's for a while now; I remember meeting him just once a couple of years ago when he was still cognizant and living at home.  But M and family have shared quite a few stories with me, making his passing just a little bit more bittersweet.

And with his passing, I've been thinking a lot about his generation- The Greatest Generation- and all that they experienced.  Pop himself fought (and lost an arm) serving in Europe in World War Two.  He raised and loved four children and 4 grandchildren and worked hard all of his life.  And from what I gather, he was pretty darn funny, too.  The Greatest Generation strikes me as a generation who understood sacrifice, knew the realities of and importance of family and knew how to kick back and relax with a good beer.  They didn't need the internet, they didn't even need cell phones.  And while I know it's always popular to look back with a nostalgic glance that often doesn't see clearly, I can't help but think theirs was- and is- a generation to be respected and emulated.

2011: The Year of the Spreadsheet

I have a weird love for Excel spreadsheets.

Chalk it up to my three years in monitoring and evaluation (also known as that time in my life when I was surrounded by people much, much smarter than me). Or maybe it's the simplicity they afford, with all the magic formulas out of view.  Or maybe it's all the colors you can use to color code things.  Pink for economic analysis!  Green for financial!  If/then statements!  Pivot tables!

Even now, as a Volunteer Coordinator, my love for spreadsheets is pretty evident.  Good Lord, if you had seen my Christmas Store matrix.  4 tabs of spreadsheets, y'all!  What can I say, I love them.

But I have to be honest.  Beyond listing out info on schools M was going to apply for (two years ago now), I've never really used spreadsheets in my personal life.  They've always been relegated to that area also occupied by suits, 7am alarms and sack lunches.

Until now.

Just yesterday, I realized that spreadsheets are a great way to create a family budget.  And they're great for calculating a "desired salary" for the job M will hopefully be getting in the next few months.  (Sidenote: his desired salary is that amount at which we can live in a small apartment and pay bills.) And they're also great for planning meals, creating an easy shopping list (and remembering if you had stuffed peppers three days ago) and tracking what you're actually eating.  Yippee!  My love can now come home!

So hear ye, hear ye!  I now pronounce 2011 the year of the spreadsheet!

I'll be sending you a template with all the appropriate formulas later.