As I was sitting in my study this morning doing some planning for the summer, I looked over at a small dish that sits on the side table. That dish holds several rocks I picked up here and there, a few pieces of seaglass from beach trips, and a rusty nail with a bit of green paint on the end. I picked up the nail to look at it and was flooded with a wash of warm emotion.
I picked up that nail last summer while on a mission trip to Nacogdoches. I was on programs staff which meant I didn't really get a chance to get out in the community to meet as many people as our work teams were able to. But toward the end of the week, we got a chance to get out and go visit some of our teams, which meant we also got to meet some clients. I picked up that particular nail at the house of a widowed woman. One of our teams was preparing to paint her house and I picked up the nail off the ground because I was afraid someone might step on it. Sticking it in my pocket, I thought little of it, but that soon changed.
I somehow found myself lost in conversation with this sweet homeowner, a woman whom I found out, had outlived her husband, her parents who died when she was a child, and all eleven of her siblings. As she told me stories about her family, I could see her being transported right before my eyes back to a time when she was young and vibrant, with a lifetime ahead of her. To hear her reminisce, she didn't long for the past, but she missed the people in her past. She missed sitting under the grove of trees in her side yard where they gathered. She missed the laughter. I could tell because she laughed when she told me about all of the good times they had. I could have listened to her talk all day and I was honored to hear the stories that she deserved to tell. And in the telling of her stories, she reminded me of the stories of my grandmother. Stories we shared in the shade of a Tallow Tree, always with big glasses of cold sweet tea in our hands.
I didn't want to leave when it was time to go. I told the girls to "Hush, we're having church." And that sweet, sweet lady with a heart full of memories and love, threw her head back and laughed deeply, slapping her knee, "That's right, girl, we are having church." Looking at the other girls, she said "Y'all go on," shooing them with her hand.
Had they chosen to leave without me, I would have gladly stayed. I would have had church all afternoon on those steps with that beautiful woman. But I left. And I took with me more than I deserved: a full heart and an old rusty nail.
I picked up that nail last summer while on a mission trip to Nacogdoches. I was on programs staff which meant I didn't really get a chance to get out in the community to meet as many people as our work teams were able to. But toward the end of the week, we got a chance to get out and go visit some of our teams, which meant we also got to meet some clients. I picked up that particular nail at the house of a widowed woman. One of our teams was preparing to paint her house and I picked up the nail off the ground because I was afraid someone might step on it. Sticking it in my pocket, I thought little of it, but that soon changed.
I somehow found myself lost in conversation with this sweet homeowner, a woman whom I found out, had outlived her husband, her parents who died when she was a child, and all eleven of her siblings. As she told me stories about her family, I could see her being transported right before my eyes back to a time when she was young and vibrant, with a lifetime ahead of her. To hear her reminisce, she didn't long for the past, but she missed the people in her past. She missed sitting under the grove of trees in her side yard where they gathered. She missed the laughter. I could tell because she laughed when she told me about all of the good times they had. I could have listened to her talk all day and I was honored to hear the stories that she deserved to tell. And in the telling of her stories, she reminded me of the stories of my grandmother. Stories we shared in the shade of a Tallow Tree, always with big glasses of cold sweet tea in our hands.
I didn't want to leave when it was time to go. I told the girls to "Hush, we're having church." And that sweet, sweet lady with a heart full of memories and love, threw her head back and laughed deeply, slapping her knee, "That's right, girl, we are having church." Looking at the other girls, she said "Y'all go on," shooing them with her hand.
Had they chosen to leave without me, I would have gladly stayed. I would have had church all afternoon on those steps with that beautiful woman. But I left. And I took with me more than I deserved: a full heart and an old rusty nail.
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