She was use to dodging and weaving through the forest of men’s suited legs like great oak tree trunks. There was a whimsical sense of fun as she slid between the sea of women in their Sunday best. Like a needle threading through silk. She has expressive, different eyes they said. She is intelligent they murmered among themselves. Even at three to four years old I felt at home dodging and weaving, I took it as a challenge, motivated by the piece of Doublemint gum that Mr. Trainer always had in his pocket for me.
I got attention because my Dad was the Pastor of this Lovely group of people. They always smiled at me or said hello. Some of the older women tried to kiss me. I was pretty independent and didn’t like it if someone but my daddy tried to pick me up or hold me.
Looking back is like getting a post card from myself. I always feel warmed by this memory. I remember a few times when I didn’t respond to well but they always showed me grace.
Gradually the forest of men’ s suits and the lady’ Sunday dresses all drifted away and headed for Sunday lunch. That is when I would run to Dad’s office and play on his big leather desk chair. It always seemed we were the last to leave. I felt so safe knowing we would be back here the next week and every Sunday after that.
One day I asked my Dad why these people were so nice to me. I’ll never forget him saying, ” these are the people that God has put into my heart to love and serve. It is a gift of God to our family and these folks want to show you that love. it is also a way in which they show their love for me and your Mom as well. It is a very important job and one of the main functions is to show love for others.”
” Okay Dad”, I said and skipped off toward our car without a care in the world. Years later when Dad went into evangelism I found that I really missed my lovely Sunday jaunt through the crowd and thanked God for the gifts he gave me when he knit us together like a family.