I know a guy, actually a lady, who sat in church every Sunday in virtual silence. Her dusky gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, petite frame and quiet demeanor were like a social camouflage that caused her to blend into the crowd. But, I caught her one day. I was a part-time youth guy at the church, and I caught her cleaning up the kitchen. The pastor told me I was not to tell anyone, because she didn't want them to know. This was how she served her church, and she wanted no credit for it. Her stealthiness didn't work, because I have never forgotten her.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
I Know A Guy
I know a guy, actually a lady, who sat in church every Sunday in virtual silence. Her dusky gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, petite frame and quiet demeanor were like a social camouflage that caused her to blend into the crowd. But, I caught her one day. I was a part-time youth guy at the church, and I caught her cleaning up the kitchen. The pastor told me I was not to tell anyone, because she didn't want them to know. This was how she served her church, and she wanted no credit for it. Her stealthiness didn't work, because I have never forgotten her.
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