What an interesting week on the porch! As I’ve enjoyed the other belles’ posts and your responses, I picked through my share of miscommunication experiences trying to decide which one I would offer. In the end, I’ve decided to go with a sentimental favorite. This “Who’s on first?” story happened between my dear pastor and myself several years ago but the memory always endears the man to me all over again. Let me take you to the scene…
I started whining as soon as Brother Don answered the phone. “I promise! I know how to stain wood,” I said. “I don’t know what happened!” Of course, I’d caught him off guard; I tend to do that to people. Ask my husband. I rushed on as if Brother Don was right with me in the ladies classroom at the church, taking in my pitiful stain job. My ladies class had recently grown. Not girth, y’all– numbers, and our search for growing room had led us to have one of the men remove a wall between two classrooms. We now had one big party place! Together we had repainted the room and I had taken it upon myself to stain the wood of the new cased opening.
As Brother Don listened I whined about my polka-dotted stain job and how I must’ve chosen the wrong color, too, because it didn’t match anything, not the doors, not the window trim, not the baseboards, nothing! This is where it gets fun.
Unfortunately, my pastor got confused. While I was waxing on and long about the ruined wood, the poor man was suffering under the misguided notion that I was talking about the big sound booth at the back of our main sanctuary. That would be the same sound booth that had been recently overhauled with beautiful, expensive wood, lovingly sanded to perfection, and was currently awaiting an expert staining job by experienced craftsmen. Do I need to remind anyone that men love stained wood? I think it’s genetic.
For several long minutes I apologized for the botched job while my pastor fought off a wave of nausea even as he tried to comfort me! When we finally figured out we were on different pages we got a big laugh. At least I did. I think it was quite some time before he recovered but I have never forgotten his kindness. My pastor has often told me that he loves me with the unconditional love of the Lord. That day, I saw it in action. When my pastor valued my feelings over what he thought was the destruction of his pet project, I saw the love of the Lord. Thanks, Brother Don, I’m doing everything I can to pass it on.
Hugs,
Shellie
Shellie Rushing Tomlinson is an author, speaker, radio host, and Belle of All Things Southern who often catches people off guard because she thinks the whole world lives in her head.
