The Marriage Garden
Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>
between hugs and commitment, with unconditional love.
Feed with gentle word, and a playful touch.
Sprinkle with secret whispers and private smiles.
Sow between forgive, forget-me-nots, and forget.
communicate every day.
Transplant tired flowers with passion and surprise.
Nurture deep-rooted intimacy, affection and joy.
Weed out secrets, prune away anger and fear.
Your marriage garden will blossom everlasting,
year after year.
A waitress at the Happy Chef restaurant in Huron, South Dakota, is one of the best teachers of the truth that we Christians have 'forgotten' how to love. Her first lesson began about 2 a.m. When my colleague and I opened the door, we could see that we were the only customers.
We observed the cook cleaning the stove and the waitress working a crossword puzzle.
"They run you boys out of the bar?" she said in a chatty, friendly manner. Without asking, she gave us coffee and continued to make us feel welcome. My friend smiled a bit uncomfortably and indicated that we hadn't been to a bar.
"Then what are you doing out so late?" she asked.
"Well, ma'am, we're ministers," my friend replied, offering our names.
Her demeanor immediately changed. "Oh," she said acidly and walked away. The room became ice cold. We looked at the menu and waited for her to take our order. She didn't even look at us.
Soon I couldn't stand it, so I walked over to her. "Excuse me," I said. She looked up.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened to you from a minister or a church, but I'd like to apologize for all of us." I was doing my best to come across as well meaning.
She blinked once and dryly said, "Whatever."
I wanted to die. She obviously did not want to let me open the subject deeper. I asked meekly, "How about if we order something to eat?" She got her pad, followed me, and I sat down. She stared blankly at us, took the order, and wordlessly walked away.
Later when she delivered the food and silently poured more coffee, I noticed on her arm a tattoo of two letters, which happened to be the initials of my pastor friend. Trying to break the ice I asked, "How come his initials are tattooed on your arm?"
"Oh that," she replied. "This was the biggest mistake of my life and I'm sure you could care less." (Actually she used stronger language.)
Whatever she was going through was now breaking my heart. I got up. "Nobody's here. Why don't you come sit down?" I asked. "We'll double whatever you make an hour in our tip." She came over and sat down.
"What happened?" we asked.
She unpacked a heartbreaking story of a church leader making unfounded promises about helping her. She became teary eyed. "I can't talk about it," she said and went into the kitchen.
She came back a while later. "Know what?" she queried. "Do you know what you people do?" She pulled out a blow-up plastic dachshund dog. The words emblazoned on one side, "I love Jesus," had been changed to something blasphemous.
"This is in the kitchen," she said. "One of you people left that as a tip. How am I supposed to feed my baby with it?"
The silence that followed was awkward. Both my friend and I could think of times when each of us had lived down to her caricature of restaurant customers who are cheap, rude, and demanding.
If she had commented further, I could imagine her saying with sarcasm, "Gee, I want to give my life to Jesus so I can become like that?"
We thanked her for her honesty and shelled out a generous tip. She needed a community marked by integrity and genuine love. Instead, she experienced a community that had let her down hard.
Too often, we fail in evangelism not because we've forgotten what to say, but because we've forgotten how to love.
Tom Clegg and Warren Bird
Dave and Barbara
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