A new day. A different tact. I prayed this morning that God would place me in the middle of His activity in the world, that I could be part of what He was already doing that day. I decided that I would rely on Him to show me who I must reach. Already, I'd had in my mind this notion of interacting more deeply with the people I come into contact with every day, maybe those people that you see but never think much about. Construction workers, meter maids, custodians, receptionists.
I meet a lot of receptionists in the course of my work, and I rarely find myself actually talking to them. In fact, very few of them are memorable. There's one I can think of who always raves about her company's ice tea -- the best in town, she says. Every time I show up there -- "Would you like some sweet tea? It's the best in town." Of course, I decline. Not much of a tea-drinker. The secret to her success: She cleans the pot every day. Makes sense. But she's about the only one who stands out among the profession of receptionists. They're fine people. I'm just not tuned in.
So I met one today, and I talked to her. She was a quiet woman, about 50 years old. I got to my appointment early, so early in fact that neither of the people I was to meet with were on hand. That piece of information -- coupled perhaps by my standing in a lobby that had no reading material, leaving me just to stand there and look at her -- seemed to fluster her a little bit. So I struck up a conversation. About the weather, of course. It has been extremely hot here in August, but it rained the past two days and was cool. She was very pleased by this and said she wouldn't complain at all when winter came and it became bitterly cold.
You could tell she was one of those sweet, conscientious types who couldn't hurt a fly. We talked about how she'd worked there 13 years, before the company moved to its present location. She really liked working there, she said. They treated her very well. And she was believable.
Finally, the people arrived whom I was to meet with, and I was gone. But she stuck in my mind. During my time with them, I could feel what I believe was God's call. He opened the door for me further when I was left to show myself out. That gave me the moment alone that I needed. So I paused as I was leaving, leaned over the desk and told her I appreciated her help. "You're a good receptionist," I said. She smiled and thanked me. "I'm going to pray for you," I added. Again, she smiled and thanked me. And I was out the door, my adrenaline pumping.
It seems such a simple thing, just to pause and wish one well or offer an unsolicited prayer. And I wondered as I left, was that enough to count? It seemed a lot easier, and a lot more natural, than what I did yesterday. But what was the impact? I didn't linger long enough to see how she took my gesture. It could have been like the same chuckle, smile and dismissal I got yesterday. But I doubt it. I believe I was there for a reason, speaking for a reason, as God had called me. So I think it was enough. I think it counted. And it certainly wasn't something I would have done had God not placed this mission in front of me.
Scripture of the day: "Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say." -- Exodus 4:12.
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