Unexpected Joy

Once again I committed my very small Sunday School class. Not 100 cupcakes, picture taking, dressing as a scarecrow, fixing spaghetti dinner, or baking a gazillion pies but instead manning the plant sale room at our Fall Festival. The plant sale used to be a regular but fell off the agenda at some point. Now I really know nothing about plants (not like cupcakes or pies) but was assured this was just a collecting and sales position. After sending out a few flyers requesting plants, pots, or donations I got 2 bites. Both bites came from 80 something gentlemen in the church, of which I had heard of, but didn't know. Bo has contacted me twice requesting more pots, first small then large pots. The second call came from Crosby who requested I come by to see his aloe vera. On the Monday holiday I headed out to get the large pots and drop them by Bo's. He was thrilled by his pots and led me around back to see his proud collection of plants for the sale. His backyard was filled with a colorful variety of plants and flowers, collections of patio furniture and cool shade. He beamed with pride as he told me about each of his plant species much like a proud parent. After leaving Bo I headed down the street to Crosby's. After nearly walking in his neighbor's house by accident I found his house and was lead through the house to another shady back yard. His yard held 2 out buildings, one of which was a greenhouse. As we made our way to the green house he explained he had a masters degree in horticulture and was currently an 81 year old substitute teacher at a prison. His green house was truly a working room complete with lots of tools, counter space, shelves, and a very rickety aluminum step stool. As I watched him hoist his tall slim body up that step stool I found myself wanting to lecture but reminded myself that I'm not every one's mom or teacher. For the remainder of my visit Crosby educated me in the world of plants, insects, aging, composting, and who can remember what else. It is always thrilling to be around passionate people. When we were finished repotting plants for the sale he announced that I couldn't leave until he played me a song on the organ. Opening the double doors to the other building sat a huge organ. Crosby sat and played a song first sounding like circus music and transitioning to Mozart. All played from memory. I wondered how often his neighbors got a concert and he said a few times a week. As I left, Crosby promised to play another song when I picked up the plants. He said if he was out just to come to the back and get the plants but I could never leave with my song. As I reflect on all the challenges and stresses of this difficult week I realize that for me a new door has opened with these special relationships.