September 7, 2020
Yesterday I wrote about the blessings of living in a small, rural village. Today I experienced it all over again. Our kitchen cabinet doors were installed with screws not adequate for the work, so I went down to the village Superette/hardware for some longer ones. On the way out, I ran into Tommy, who plows the church parking lot in the winter. When he asked if we wanted him again this year, I told him to call our pastor, but that I would also talk with him. Small town casual talk that’s part of the glue that holds the community together.
Later at our annual Labor Day bash at my son’s house, I put out the word that I was looking for someone with a bigger chain saw than mine to chunk up the tree we had taken down last week. Linda and I had cleaned up the brush this morning, and were ready for the next step. Three young men volunteered on the spot to help. I told them I’d let them know when we were ready, but before we even got home, pastor Joe was in our yard, chainsaw in hand. An hour later, it was all done.
Joe often speaks of Park church as family, where in his words, “we do life together.” At times, it can sound a bit jingoistic, but tonight he personally breathed life into his words. I neglected to get photos, but am no less grateful for this man who walks his talk in very real and practical ways. Our village may be small, but the hearts are not. As the Scripture says, “The lines have been drawn for me in pleasant places.” (Psalm 16:6)
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