Sacred Days

Wednesday mornings are sacred to me. That’s the day some of my youngest friends come to visit—moms and babies—from 9:30-11. The young mothers and I eat, laugh, talk, pray, and study the Bible. The toddlers play in the playroom under the volunteer supervision of my friend Fay. I’ve missed various events because I do not cancel this get-together unless the weather keeps them from coming or I’m out of town.

But this week we are double-booked. Steve is hosting his MasterMind group (all speakers) from 8:30-11:30. This is the group for which I usually serve a sumptuous breakfast and light lunch.

So we’re squeezing it in. When the day of the week registered with me, I was not gracious about it. “But you know the girls come on Wednesday mornings!” I said, though I probably should use the word wailed.

“There was no other day this month that we were all available,” he explained. I waited for an apology, but that seems to have been it.

The disgusting thing about Steve’s being so understanding when I do dumb things (burn the soup when we’re only having soup, forget to give him a message, total two cars in two years) is that then I feel compelled to do the same for him! I wanted to rant and rave, but I remembered all the times he showed compassion when I’d messed up. I couldn’t do it. All I could do was help figure out where to put each group so they would least disturb the other. Talk about frustrating! Living with a compassionate person can really limit my opportunities to explode.

So the additional day that is sacred to me—Tuesday, my writing day—is now complicated with preparations for the MasterMind group tomorrow. Steve’s getting the groceries, which helps tremendously, but there is still much preparation involved. How can I offer ordinary food to John, who is recently divorced and living on fast food? How can I offer mundane food to Joan, a terrific gourmet cook herself? So I’m preparing stuffed French toast tonight and fresh basil/mushroom frittata tomorrow morning, hoping they turn out well. But I also know that if they don’t, everyone involved will be gracious and forgiving.

That’s one of the many great things about having friends who are trying to live for and like Jesus. They just keep forgiving and loving—prompting me to do the same.