love the people whom I serve.
I thought about posting this last night, but I was still steaming -- after venting to my Dear Colleague and later to my Dear Husband. Nearly 24 hours later, I'm not really steaming anymore and can sort of laugh it off (until it happens again) but I'm not ready to let it go, so I'll post it here...
Context: It's late afternoon and I'm in my office at the end of the hallway. My colleague's office is next to mine, but he's not in it. I'm finishing up a few things and mentally preparing to transition to two back-to-back off-site meetings.
I hear someone coming down the hall and welcome the distraction. Sweet Liza (not her real name), whose daughter is a pastor, sticks her head in my office and then in Dear Colleague's office and then back in mine says,
"I thought I saw the pastor come down here, but I guess not. Maybe you can help me..."
Even just writing it down makes me get a little bubbly around the edges, because evidently in this context you have to be over 60 and A MAN to be a PASTOR... For the record, it'll be ANOTHER 30 years before I think about hitting 60 and I'll NEVER be a MAN....
Whether or not the nursery could use a play-pen. Clearly she needed to talk to The Pastor.
Where was The Pastor during this exchange?
In the kitchen.
That part makes me smile.