The Post Office

"My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth." 1John 3:18.

In my high school years, we lived in a small Arizona town named Oracle. Oracle was a compact little community with two grocery stores, two Mexican restaurants, a steak house, an elementary school on one end and a junior high on the other. There was a library, a graveyard for the deceased who had been property owners in town, three filling stations, a couple of convenience stores, four bars and several churches. The place where everyone congregated most often was none of these, but rather the local post office. The two women who were the postal workers also lived in town and knew nearly everyone who walked in the doors.

It was routine to check our mail boxes daily (Oracle was a rural community with no door-to-door mail delivery), then go to the window to visit the girls behind the counter. They would always call us by name, ask about our family members (also by name), and proceed to share with us any new events of the day.

Eventually, a stamp machine was placed in the foyer of the post office, but most often, people would ignore it, going to the window to make their purchases and enjoy the cameraderie with those sweet friends behind the counter.

Some years later, as an adult, I was part of a ministry that would visit a nursing home in our neighborhood every Monday night, where we would bring the ambulatory residents into a room and lead them in a short Bible study and hymn singing time. One night, in particular, I remember going into the room of a woman, whom I later discovered was named Ruth. She sat on the edge of her bed as I helped her get her shoes and socks on. She seemed puzzled and after a few moments, looked down at me and said, "Can you tell me who I am?"

I remember being very brokenhearted for her as she was suffering from early dementia and had no idea who or where she was. She could not remember her own history and did not recognize anyone around her. I told her I would find out her name from one of the nurses, then I took advantage of the wonderfully perfect opportunity to share with her about One who does know her name and of His great love for her.

It is often a small gesture that brings hope to one who may need more than our glances recognize. May we never become insensitive to others and may we always show the Father's love to everyone who passes by.

In His grip,
Teresa

A Sweet Smelling Fragrance

"Now thanks be to God..who through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place. For we are to God the fragrance of Christ." (2Cor. 2:14-15 NKJV)

Each time I am in a market, walking through the soap aisle, I pause to pick up a bar of Camay (if I find one there) and put it to my nose so that I might once again smell the fragrance that escapes from out of the wrapper. Immediately, my memory is transported to the early 1960's, my maternal Grandmother's ("Mammo" to us grandkids) home, which had wooden floors, a fireplace in the living room, and a big back yard to play in (with tall trees and lots of grass). I specifically remember that she kept the butter in a holder on the kitchen table, never in the icebox.

I spent each weekend with her and though I can't remember all the details of every visit, I remember that she consistently prayed with me, made me feel good about myself by the affirmation she would give me, and would always say as we would race to get our pajamas on at night, "the last one in bed is a rotten egg!" She always let me win those races.

She got sick when I was about 4-1/2 years old, and moved in to live with my Mom, Dad, little brother and I. She had bone cancer that had spread to her spine and brain. I didn't get to see her often when she lived with us, as she was in her own room and my Mom took care of her, but I remember that I loved her very, very much. I remember that my own parents didn't know how to praise me or make me feel loved, but my Mammo did.

Isn't it amazing how certain aromas or fragrances stimulate memories or feelings; some may be sweet, some painful. I often wonder, especially when I read God's Word, what kind of fragrance I am to others. Do I bring the fragrance of God's grace and love, or when I leave the room, do those in the room wish they had an air freshener they could spray something in the air to remove the unpleasant odor I left behind? My heart's prayer is that I might be the former and certainly not the latter.

There is one who recently left us and went Home to Jesus, but the fragrance she left behind is still strong and sweet. A fragrance that was uniquely hers and one that sets an example for me. Her name was Tammy Litton and I loved her so very much.

Her fragrance is evident when I pass by the row that included the chair she used to sit in during our evening church services (her husband is our Senior Pastor). Her fragrance still lingers where she played the oboe in our church orchestra. The sweetness of her fragrance is there when you read the words her husband writes about her life on his own blog spot. When I see the results of her life's work as they walk by...her children Josh, Tyler and Kayla, I am reminded of the depth of her fragrance. When my mind's eye thinks of Tammy, I hear that wonderful laughter of hers, and I envision her eyes sparkling, as her face crinkles with that absolutely beautiful smile. She could find humor in ANY situation, and often did, much to the joy of those around her.

Her fragrance is strongly evident in the First Baptist North Mobile School of Music, the culmination of a long standing dream of hers. Those who teach at that school do so in honor of the desire Tammy had that children would know about one of the greatest expressions God has given us for life and worship....music. I have recordings of songs she sang years ago and some more recently; when I listen to them I am reminded of the immense fragrance of love of the Father that her voice emitted.

Her fragrance still lingers in the lives of those to whom she shared the Gospel message of Jesus Christ, not only through verbal witness, but the witness of her life. She loved Jesus first and foremost, but devoted herself to her husband, children, her music and ministry. She took the role of wife as her greatest calling and lived out the command God gives to wives in His love Letter to us, when He says we are to "submit ( a choice given out of love and honor) to our husbands as unto the Lord" (Eph. 5:22). She protected her family fiercely and I especially loved her for that.

I recently came upon a cookie receipe that I had asked her for and her footnote to the receipe said, "these are Ed's (her husband) favorites. Can you define 'good'? " Sounds just like her!!

I met Tammy in 1992 and I came to know Jesus better because of her friendship and influence on my life. Her days were packed and busy and in what seemed to be the length of a breath, she was gone. But what she leaves behind is the fragrance of Christ. What a fragrance! What a legacy!

I find great comfort in the words of Pastor Johnnie Hunt, spoken in the closing sentence of Tammy's eulogy....

"good night Tammy. See you in the morning."

Teresa

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