"Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."
~ St. Francis of Assisi
I cherish these moments.
I saw her as I was pulling my car into the post office. She reminded me of my Grammy, if Grammy were African-American, walked with a cane, about a hundred pounds heavier, and wore a floral nighty in public. A floral nighty she wore, but only for the family to see.
But there she was, nearly crawling into the post office, barely able to hold herself up, with a handful of letters. I hoped that I would be able to see her face. And sure enough, I got the chance. After juggling to get her letters in the slot, she walked toward the inner double doors to wait in the long line. Oh, I hope someone loves me enough to rub my feet when I'm that old. She just looked like she needed a good rub. I stepped over and held the door open for her. It took her a while to get through, and then I held the door until the line got short enough for her to enter completely. It lasted about two minutes or so, which is a long time when you're being watched by about ten people. I didn't mind, though, because I still pictured my Grammy, and if she were alive and in floral print, I hope someone would cherish her just as much as I cherished this woman. May God bless her.
As for my next stop--the Salem Library. It's really an oversize room with a couple of old computers that run Windows 98 and tons of kids books, romance novels, and books on tape. Rockin', I know. Since both librarians know my aunt and uncle, I was promptly told twice to make sure I don't forget to take my aunt's book with me when I leave. After my thirty minute computer session, rudely taking up the kids' after-school computer game battle time, I grab the book to courier home and walk outside and what do I see? A little dog that looks like Toto, only much cuter, waiting outside, peeking through the glass. I ask a woman if that's her dog. Nope. So as I open the door, here's what goes down.
Poochie pushes to try to get in.
"Umm, excuse me mister, but I don't see a library card. I don't think they'll let you in."
Poochie stares at me with tilted head, as they usually do when I speak to them.
As I walk past him, I realize the reason why I've been carrying around a dog chew stick (aka chew-chew) in my purse for the last 3 months. I dig around to the bottom of my purse and pull it out. Poochie's eyes double in size and instantly he becomes my best friend. I make the hand off and he runs to the bushes to savor his prize.
I still have no idea whose poochie he is, but I love him anyway.
I do believe these wonderful beings were put in my life for a reason, and I see them as gifts from God.
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