When you frequent a place, don’t you find that you gravitate to the same area sometimes, perhaps even the same row of seats? And perish the thought if someone else should occupy “your seat” before your arrival.
Though cool, it was a delightful Sunday morning in October. One of my favorite joys is greeting people at the church. On this day, I placed myself between the door and the brisk outside air – not wanting to lower my body temperature so early in the morning.
Of course, you can stand inside and wait until people enter the building; but I feel it’s important that people see someone genuinely greeting and welcoming them.
We had been at this church for a few months, and I was trying to learn names and recognize faces each week. But I found that even if I couldn’t remember a name, I was becoming familiar with the faces. In our busy world being remembered can make others feel important and welcome.
The parking lot was buzzing with people arriving for the morning service. Hugs and conversations were in full swing, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a small yellow and white bus pull up to the curb and park. In a few moments the driver came around to the exit door. Even from a distance, I could see that a woman inside was moving slowly toward the bus steps
A small-statured lady with lovely white hair appeared at the top step. She was dressed so neatly and waited for instructions and a caring hand to help her down the steps. I heard the faint verbal count of each step as the driver audibly counted down her descent. The young driver then accompanied this lovely woman arm-in-arm toward the door of our church. I’m reminded often that the Lord directs our steps, and the steps of others that come across our path.
I did not hesitate to ask if I could help. Somewhere in the brief conversation, I was informed that she was partially blind and needed help to be guided and seated in the sanctuary. She was such a pleasant lady and I was only too happy to escort her.
As we approached the auditorium, we exchanged pleasantries and I found her simply delightful as I guided her to an appropriate row toward the back. An usher noticed our entry, and I asked him to watch carefully when the service was over, and to be sure and help this fine lady to the exit door to wait for the bus to pick her up.
He was most agreeable. After introducing them, I assured her that he would take care of escorting her out of the seat and back to the entrance to the church.
Sometime after the service as I was leaving, I noticed her again by the exit door. She was sitting on a ledge by the window peering out the window and watching for that nice yellow and white bus.
It was a pleasure to see her again: and oddly enough I felt strangely drawn to her. Many people were passing by her as they were leaving, but she seemed all alone.
Just before leaving the building I asked how she was as I wanted to make sure that she was being picked up soon. With a warm smile, she assured me the bus driver would be there soon and take her back to her place of residence.
I introduced myself as the woman she met when she first arrived. “What is your name?” I asked. I could tell that she was happy to have been asked. Her name is Caroline and this was her first Sunday visiting our church.
It was my pleasure to assure her that I would be looking for her next week and I would be delighted to see to it that I would help her find a seat and have her cared for each Sunday. She seemed very happy about that.
Now think about this for a moment. “If you were partially blind and you visited a church and no one greeted you or cared for your seating needs, would you return?” How would you and I feel in a foreign setting with hundreds of others passing by without a word being said to you?
How would you find your way out? How awkward and frightening that would be. I sometimes get nervous visiting places I’ve never been, and I can see why. But what if I were blind? Frightened wouldn’t come close to describe my inner fears.
I find it incredible how God places people and situations right in front of us, trusting us, if I can use that word, to care for and look after them. This first encounter was meant to be.
The following Sunday, about twenty minutes before the service, the yellow and white bus pulled up to the curb, and the driver circled around to help this sweet lady off the bus. This Sunday was different however. My feet couldn’t mobilize fast enough to arrive at the bus steps. I called out her name to welcome her back to church.
My plans were to walk arm-in-arm with her right to the area where she sat “last week.” However, God had “other plans.” God’s ways are amazing, and can be contrary to our plans
Arm-in-arm we began our approach to where she sat last week; yet something within me would not allow that to happen. I asked if she would like to sit with my husband and me in another location instead, and she seemed only too pleased and somewhat relieved with that offer.
So we walked a little further than the previous week to the area where my husband and I normally sat. The rest is history! Every Sunday morning it is as if she prances off that bus like a queen. She started bringing her walker, which increased her speed limit and freedom.
At 93 years of age she’s so good at maneuvering her walker, I wonder if she was into race-car driving in her earlier years.
I parked her walker at the back of the sanctuary wall, and we then proceeded – arms clutched together a few more row aisles to where we would sit together.
At the end of the service, I moved her walker close by and we leave a few moments before the rest of the congregation exits.
We’ve added a “refreshing stop” after exiting the auditorium doors. Caroline and her mobile-wheeled helper move with me in the direction of the donuts and coffee urns. I would make a bee line for the cups and get pouring as Caroline, gleefully munched on a donut.
The next item on the agenda was to return to the entry door waiting for the little yellow and white bus. Her walker has a fold out seat which provides her a comfortable way to sit and enjoy her liquid refreshment before boarding the bus.
People began noticing her arrival and departures each Sunday; but it isn’t her walker and fragile frame they’re drawn to. It’s her smile and laughter and singing all the way to the front door. Whatever the last hymn or praise chorus we’ve sung that morning, that’s our theme to coffee and out the front door.
I love it when others stop and introduce themselves to her. Slowly she’s getting acquainted with others and beginning to feel at home.What encouragement this woman is to me and I couldn’t be more privileged to be “Jesus…with skin on” to one of His delightful children.
My prayer is that my eyes will see like He sees, and that I would take advantage of every practical opportunity He places in front of me, to love and show kindness.
KINDNESS IS A LANGUAGE THAT THE DEAF CAN HEAR
AND THE BLIND CAN SEE.
Cups of Cold Water 