So here it is, Sunday, which in my house signifies certain things that you can not only expect, but count on to happen. Especially during the Spring and Fall Soccer seasons, Sunday is the one and only day of the week that we can sit around in our pajamas (or sweats, for Husband), drinking coffee (or chocolate milk, for the short...er...people), eating a leisurely breakfast (or...drinking another cup of coffee, for me) and thoroughly perusing the large Washington Post newspaper. (Yes, the actual, paper edition that you hold in your hands and turn the pages, smearing yourself with ink while reading. We're just old school like that...once out of every 7 says, that is.) Derek, Riley and I also make time to attend worship services--and while we won't win any awards for Perfect Attendance, I'd put us in the category of Regular Church-Goers. So in the interest of setting an example of personal honesty and integrity, I have a confession to make. (Even though, as Protestants, we don't technically do that, I'm going to put it out there anyway. Hmm, I wonder if God will check out my Blog? Now that would be cool, right?)
Anyway, a few weeks ago, while glancing through the Bulletin during "a quiet prayer moment", I noticed that our congregation's annual Outreach Sunday was approaching. On this day, instead of holding the usual services, people gather for a sendoff-blessing, then go out into the community-at-large to spread fellowship and perform helpful tasks. Here comes the admission of guilt: not only had I never participated in this activity yet, I made a mental note of when it was set to occur...and decided we'd be "busy" that day so we would have to miss it. Please don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm against communing with my fellow man or taking God's work out into the world. If someone asks me about my religion, I'm genuinely happy to share my beliefs. If there's a project that will beautify or improve my neighborhood, sign me up! But I'm just not the "stand on a box, wave a sign, and shout about Jesus" kind of girl. So basically, this whole concept scared me to death. And since I had it in my head that it already happened LAST week, the boys and I arrived at church completely unprepared. (Do you think I gave it away, when we approached our turn and spotted swarms of people in their special orange t-shirts and I blurted out, Uh...oh...?)
Now, had I planned to take part, I could have gone online and joined a group, chosen an assignment, and been all set when we showed up. But since I failed to do that, we just shuffled up to the Welcome Table, somewhat sheepishly announced that we were “here to help” and waited humbly for our “job”. The cheerful greeter-lady seemed stumped for a beat, but then brightly declared that she had “just the thing” for us: hand out carnations at a nearby shopping center and wish people a “blessed day”. Oh…no! This is soooo, WAAAAYYY out of my comfort zone! Can’t I just pick up garbage along the road? Or spread mulch at a local playground? (The couple who arrived just ahead of us got to do that…dang it, we missed it by seconds!) But I put on a brave face for my sons and gamely agreed…so we collected our vivid orange volunteer-identifying t-shirts, lugged our bucket of flowers to the nearest strip mall, and positioned ourselves on the sidewalk between a small café and a grocery store to accost—I mean “pleasantly engage with” the citizens.
And our morning of passing benevolence to our brothers and sisters started out well—the very first man we offered a flower graciously accepted it and wished us a blessed day right back. Yessss! However…most of the next 47 potential takers declined with either a polite “no, thank you” or a suspicious look and sharp shake of the head. (Derek kept count in his head, including the percentage of success, until the turndowns racked up and it got “depressing”.) As we stood there shivering (oh yeah, since this took me by surprise, I also failed to dress appropriately for standing outside on a brisk Fall morning. oops.) I had plenty of time to consider why people would refuse a pretty carnation given to them by cute children (if I do say so myself). Suddenly it hit me: they probably expected that, if they took the flower from me, I would then ask them for money! I mean, folks don’t just give stuff away in this day and age, right? So I told the boys that from that point on, we would say, “Would you like a FREE flower?” and see how that worked.
Overall, I’d say we had moderate success. (Although I was kind of startled by how bummed I felt when people rejected me! Even the boys admitted that the best part was “when people took the flower” from us.) Some shoppers even paused to ask where we were from, and why we were doing this. Many seemed shocked that the flowers were free-of-charge, and several even looked around for a “box to make a donation”, which I thought was a nice gesture. Those who did stop for a chat said that they enjoyed what we were doing. And I guess that’s really what it was all about. Whatever you want to call it—sharing God’s love, sending positive vibes out into the Universe, pestering your fellow human beings with kindness—I like to believe we accomplished our Outreach Sunday goal. And now that I’ve overcome some of my trepidation about joining in the annual event, we’ll be back for more next year. But you can be sure I’ll register early, and try to pull some kind of Manual Labor duty!
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