Wednesday, August 03, 2011

A Basket Case
In the summer of 2000 I spent 6 weeks on mission in Moldova.  There are a lot of stories I can tell about that trip, but one of them actually happened today.

One of the presents I brought back for my wife was a bread basket.  It was one of those rare occasions when a husband actually gets ir right.  Trisha loved the basket and we used it at many meals, especially when we would have company over.  Then, I could tell mission trip stories, and we could both talk about being apart for 6 weeks and how good it is to be together.  Anyways, the bread basket became one of those go-to symbols of hospitality in our home.

A few years ago, we were about to have friends over for lunch and Trisha asked, "Where's The Basket?"  We own plenty of baskets, but I knew which one she was talking about. We searched all over the house and couldn't find it.  We gave up, resigning that this basket had been lost in transit over a few years.  It was somewhere between Maryland, Savannah, Atlanta and Allendale, SC.

This week, Trisha and I are apart for a few days, while I start working at First Baptist Church of Evans, GA, and she oversees packing and moving. We won't have lots of stories to tell, but there will be a few.  For instance, the refrigerator in the parsonage in Allendale died two nights ago.  Trisha woke up to puddles of water in the kitchen and the chore of throwing away the food in the refrigerator and freezer.  She let the church know about the broken appliance, and a repairman was dispatched.  He arrived on Wednesday and gave the bad news about the passing of the compressor.  I think a new refrigerator is in the works for the next pastor in Allendale--you're welcome, buddy!

Here's the story.  The repairman had to pull the refrigerator out from the wall to work on it.  Behind the refrigerator was a red cup and some magnetic letters perhaps belonging to the previous family.  Also back there, probably for our whole term in Allendale, was The Basket.  Poor thing was caked in dust.  It was lost, but now it's found, dare I say.

Moving and starting a new job comes with a fair amount of stress I hear.  Transition can be a word that scares people.  In the middle of some anxiety, are stories about lost treasure being found: God's consistency even when life is in flux, my wife's phone call with a joyful story to share, and even the basket we'll use again to welcome friends old and new.

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