overheard.

19 Aug
I’ve been at the care center/assisted living facility in Dawson a fair bit in the past week. I led communion services at both places last Friday and then again had a service at the care center on Sunday morning after regular worship at Grace. It’s always humorous to overhear certain comments from the residents. They either have no idea who you are and thus say these things, or they may think you’re out of earshot when really, you’ve only taken five steps away.
Instance A: We’re preparing for the Friday afternoon communion service at the care center. I’m setting up, getting organized, when I hear a man behind me ask, “Where’s the minister?” Another man answers him, “She’s right there.” First man pauses and then says, “Oh. I was expecting a man.” Of course you were. And probably someone who doesn’t look 16, the age many people tell me they think I am.
Instance B: I have the service at the care center and then I walk the fifty feet to the assisted living facility for the same service once again. After that service, I typically stay for a short lunch before needing to return to the care center to visit/give communion to those who did not attend the earlier service. I stayed for lunch – coffee and bars – and then had to take my leave. I said goodbye to the ladies and began to walk away to gather my things. I was not five steps away when they started to talk about me. I just smirk to myself, thinking, really, ladies? Do you think I can’t hear you? They were all good things so this is not at all a complaint but rather just a humorous episode in my book. (“She’s a good pastor,” “A church will be lucky to have her,” “She’s a sweetheart.” Aww. Ego boost! [which I really don’t need – my head is large enough] I love the assisted living ladies.)
Instance C: This is not an instance of overhearing exactly, but rather something told directly to me. On Sunday, as I mentioned, I was at the care center again to lead the Sunday service. I’ll often announce the hymns we are singing and then walk around the room, helping residents turn pages and find the hymn in their spiral-bound hymnals. I helped one resident over and again, and one of the last times I turned pages for her, she said, in her raspy voice, “Thank you. You’re special.” That’s what my mom always told me. For cute.
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