I am a church worker. I'd tell you my title, but it really has nothing to do with my true job description. Lately I've been spending alot of time directing the decorating and furnishing of an apartment that we are going to get to offer our brothers and sisters in Christ who find themselves in town to receive medical care. All I can say about that is everybody has their own opinion of how the apartment should look, and the ideas are vast and quite unsimiliar.

I put my friend in charge of coordinating colors. Her incredible gift for designing spaces is about as infallible as it gets. I admit, I thought her color selection for the bedroom and bathroom, a pearly light green, was a little edgy for this white wall girl, but she's the one with the vision, not me.

Apparently, the painter also thought the colors were edgy because I had barely started my day when he plopped himself down in my office* and drew his line in the sand. He didn't want to paint under the cabinets because the buttery color would clash with the white cabinets. Then he casually dropped the line I knew was coming, "Personally, I'd leave the whole apartment white." I nodded my head and conceded that he wouldn't have to paint under the cabinets.

"Great," I thought, "Another thing to add to my to do list: paint under the cabinets."

"Well, you already spent all that time taping," I told him, "Go ahead and paint. I think it will turn out fine."

Doubtfully, he left my office to start the day long job.

Not long after that, Miss M. called as excited as could be. She called me yesterday to resolutely inform me that she would like to come on board with the apartment planning. Today, she had furniture in mind and measurements to boot. She'd be over in a half hour and we would measure the apartment.

She arrived with her friend, Miss L, who has been visiting from the south. I absolutely love Miss M. and Miss L. They make me smile from ear to ear when I see them. I also fear them a little and try my best to stand up straight and mind my manners when they're around. I hope when I'm 80-something like they are, that I'll be as sassy and as busy as them!

"What's going on at the church today?" Miss M. asked. "Is there a funeral, or what?"

"No. It's the senior citizen luncheon today," I explained.

"Oh. Maybe someday I'll be a senior citizen and come to a luncheon. I don't got any time for that just yet."

She's right about that!

We headed to the apartment, which is just a short walk out the back door of the church, and across the ally. I'm always afraid one of them is going to biff it on the hill or uneven concrete, but they don't seem to worry about it. They don't see themselves as frail in the least.

When we arrived, the painter had already completed the bathroom and bedroom in the green and was working on the buttery cream color of the living room. Miss M. has already shared with me her opinion of the green. She saw it on a paint stick last week and declared that it was nauseating. My stomach was in knots at the prospect of her seeing the the entire bedroom painted the color she despised. I was hoping to keep her out of there, if at all possible.

I could tell that our painter was going to be no help at all when he greeted the ladies with, "I didn't choose these colors, I'm just the painter!"

Thankfully, Miss M. approved of the living room color. I figured she'd be okay with it. We took our measurements and I thought I'd get them out of there without a look at the bedroom when Miss M. said, "I'm glad you chose this color and not that putrid green. Don't put that in the bedroom!"

The painter, all too eager to throw me under the bus, chimed, "Oh, the bedroom's already painted. Green."

Miss M. looked at me as though I had committed a heinous offense and then marched, as best she could, over tarp and between moved appliances, into the bedroom. I did what anybody in my shoes would do. I saw my life flash before me, realized I had no other options, short of sprinting away and quitting my job, so I prayed!

"Oh God! If there really is such a thing as a rapture, TAKE ME NOW!"

The bedroom light switched on. I couldn't breathe. Miss M. stood frozen in place. I flinched in anticipation of what was to come. Miss M. looked at me and and nodded her head.

"You like it, Miss M?"

"Yea. I do."

I took Miss L's arm and said, "Oh, thank the Lord!"

Miss L. burst out laughing. "You thought you were going to get it, didn't you?!"

"Yes. I did."

We followed into the bedroom where Miss M. praised me for not painting it that ugly color that was on the paint stick. I, of course, said nothing.

Miss L, though, informed Miss M. that the bedroom WAS the color of the paint stick, but Miss M. didn't believe her.

"You tell her, Jennifer!"

"It is the color that was on the paint stick," I confessed, "but I think it's lovely! It's very calming, you know."

Apparently, all was forgiven. After all, in the end the colors turned out to be wonderful, as I trusted they would. We were off to the furniture store where I was to give my approval on the ladies' selections.

The only thing that worried me is that my friend already had some furniture in mind at another store. Still, Miss M. was offering to give us the new furniture she had chosen, and it was lovely. She had chosen a small drop leaf table with 2 chairs, a recliner, and a sofa sleeper that wasn't too big or too small. She has the most generous and giving heart. I was so touched as I heard her go on and on about the importance and meaning of our ministry to the stoic sales associate tallying the bill.

"You mean you're GIVING this to your church?" the associate asked in disbelief.

"Oh yes. This means so much to the people who stay. They stay with me at my house sometimes too. All's they need is a place to rest and they are just so thankful," Miss M. explains.

In the end my friend was happy that such a generous gift was given. I don't know why I worried about hurting her feelings. She always keeps her focus, and never makes it about herself. It's for the ministry, for the people, for Christ himself, and she knows it and believes in it just like Miss M. does.

When I got back from the store, I stopped down to bring the painter a bottle of cold water. He decided to paint under the cabinets after all, although he still thinks we're all crazy. Ironic.

Clearly God is orchestrating the whole project. The walls of our apartment already hold some great stories of generosity and selfless love. It will hold many more stories as well; stories of pain and struggle, healing and hope. I look forward to witnessing it.



*Soon I get to downsize from an office to a closet to make room for a DCE. It's a fun adventure.