The Man From Africa

I don't know which African country this twenty-something man was from. For this post, it may not matter. I would have liked to have known, though, to show him respect, and that I cared.

He was new to the store where I shop. From first glance I'd say he was shy. At second glance, I decided he was being polite to a lady who was talking a lot. You know the polite body language: the smile, the nod, the periodic eye contact while still doing the job.

I assumed the words he chose to say while working were the suggestions he received in training. Having sat through my fair share of those training sessions, the experience seemed to go that way.

So.

I decided not to talk on and on about whatever and bore him with chatter about this and that. Good grief, some customers may as well break out the 8-track tapes (now there is an old saying. That was even before my time!!)

When my turn came, this young man did a great job ringing up my order, he smiled, and I said hello. He rang up several items AND THEN said, "So what is your career?"

Wow. That was a question I did not expect. Good grief, I could have given a seminar to answer that question. But. I restrained myself. I simply said, "I am a writer."

That was when the magic happened. He stopped. Looked up at me with eyes that showed he was genuinely intrigued. "What do you write?"

Ugh! My plan! He asked questions that would spark long answers in any writer. BUT. Again I kept to my plan to not talk this man's ears off. I said, "I write mysteries."

Now this would have been a great place for him to end the conversation. He could have thought: well, I asked polite questions. My boss should be happy. I can finish this order then move on to the next.

He instead said more. "Tell my about your most recent book."

Go ahead and laugh. No way could I answer that question in only a few words. I explained the story line in about fifty words. Talk about restraint!! He looked up again and said, "So, where do you get your book ideas from. Dreams?"

Okay. That last question indicated he had heard that answer before. When I said, "No. They don't come from dreams. This particular story involves a physical problem that a family member has and it has a chef. I have a family member who is a chef. Both components could be verified using our own experiences." He looked surprised, totally expecting the dream answer.

He said, "Do you happen to have that book with you? Could I see the book?"

What his eyes and words communicated was a genuine respect for the writing career. Maybe once upon a time he wanted to be a writer. Maybe he likes books. Maybe...he thought writers were people to respect. Whatever... it made me feel good.

What he didn't know was I respected him, too. I have done the work he was doing. I know how hard it is. He did the job well and was genuinely friendly to people. He is an asset to our community and we are blessed to have him.

Now that I think back, this conversation had a lot of great key components. None of them planned. He asked a question, my answer sparked his interest. The answer was not long, just enough to get his interest. He asked more questions. The responses were kept to just what he asked, which resulted in his curiosity to ask more. This...friends...is how we tell people about a living God who loves them. No, the topic this time was not about God, but maybe another time.

This post has been brought to you by the one word-ShortSimpleToThePoint

Suzanne Woods Fisher - Overcoming the Fear of Failure

We've all had something fail. Maybe a school assignment, baking a cake, changing a car tire. Well that was my shortlist confession. There really is a mile long list that you don't want to hear. Talk about a quick drive to the blues. Even one negative comment in a barrel full of praises can take us down. Sigh. Why oh why do we remember the one negative one and forget the positives. You are not alone. We all do this. But there is a way of escape. Today, Suzanne Woods Fisher is going to share her story. The Fear of Failure “For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you. Do not fear; I will help you” (Isaiah 41:13, niv). Years ago, before I received my first book contract, an editor returned a manuscript to me with the comment that the writing wasn’t up to her publishing house’s “caliber.” Ouch! That was a tough remark to swal...

A Memory Device For You

Photo Courtesy Recently I added a memory game to my week's activities. It all started when I listened to one of those fabulous sermons in church and actually took notes. Later in the week, I recalled liking the sermon and searched for the notes, but lamented when I couldn't find the piece of paper. I quizzed myself: What was the general topic? I racked my brain…good grief this was Thursday and a thousand other things had happened when I asked the question. After a cup of tea, visualizing where I sat in the sanctuary, and using every other means possible to remember the general topic I finally answered the question. The process to recall the rest of the good things said was an epic fail. Although I have since started using a notebook I have created a memory game. On Monday, at any point during the day, I try to say the following without the use of my notes: General topic of the sermon Main book of the Bible used Application p...

Laughter and Singing at the Homeless Shelter

It was a night to remember. A night to tell friends about. So I am... Fifty men, women, and teens rode in busses on icy expressways into the inner city. They poured out of the bus at a homeless shelter unsure where to go, what to do, or what to say. One led the pack through the main doors, pass security checkpoints, and on through winding hallways to a large room. At night, this room is filled, wall to wall, with cots, blankets, and at this time of year, cold homeless men, women, and children. On this evening before the night, hundreds of chairs formed straight rows and faced a platform. The fifty set up sound and instrument equipment. Singers cozied in the limited platform space. Instrumentalists tuned their instruments. A few residents poked their heads in the door. Intrigued, they came in and watched the first measures of several songs start, stop, start again. Microphone levels adjusted. The singers laughed. Chattered. The group stepped off to the side and...

The Storyteller | Mary Vee

Search This Blog