Perhaps You Don't Know

 

Perhaps You Don’t Know

     Those present sat in the first pew, on the left and on the right.  The ring bearer was my faithful dorm mate.  Nearly my age and goofier to catch my sister-in-law’s eye, his antics spiced the military wedding.  We, known as a couple since high-school, were definitely going ‘steady’.  Mother-in-law held up the Panasonic cassette player to march the bride.  Proud Papa did say, “Her mother and I.”

     It was a humble wedding.  A few were invited.  Even fewer braved the September roads.  The medium-sized First Christian Church of Aurora, Colorado let in the light.  Lack of air flow brought sweat under my suited armpits.  Finally, drops found their place to my forehead and I dropped to one knee.  Grandma thought I had already proposed previously.  A bit of confusion hung in the air until I stripped off my outerwear and got comfortable in the fan.  That’s another story worth telling.

     I remember her as Anne.  Truthfully, since her face has changed over the last forty years, I could not identify her in a youth line up.  A recent run in a picture album brought up a formal pic I scarcely identified either.  There we were, up and tidy with an American flag in the back, somewhere.

     Lovely does not fully describe her.  Her smiling Irish eyes turn upward when her visage energizes in joy.  Once thickened lips draw thin to expose the pearls ready to accent.  Cheeks define giving those close by the wanted out pouring of acceptance.  Her name means grace.  Those about her understand know no criticism.  And that’s why she has a lot of friends, although she won’t readily admit it.

     Anne is a queer bird.  As one who stands out behind the crowd.  She is content to pass the limelight quickly to another.  Applauding other’s efforts, she downplays her own unless cornered finally then confesses.  She knows her worth in numbers.  The number served by the kitchen.  Yet, she keeps track of the progression of characters about her.  Not claiming sole responsibility, it is a group effort as we all mature together.

     Anne keeps herself.  With strict attention to her appearance, cosmetics are not known.  A firm code reigns her body in to conduct the activity of the day.  Content with colorful t-shirts promoting Christ’s truth, blue jeans give way to the daily work she’s planned.  Her definition of fancy attire is her handmade felt, forest green dress she wears on our Christmas’ Eve service.  And then, she reserves it for that night.

     Anne, I have found, has a reason for everything.  Nothing is thrown to the wind with an air of wishing.  Deep within her, planning wheels fit scrap to thread until little is wasted.  For instance, what the Food Bank gives and RLCC doesn’t put on plates, leftovers go to the pigs.  Of course, chickens get their share of bad bread.  In short, livestock are well fed because she doesn’t launch refuse to the dumpster by default.

     She has a way of not wasting anything.  That goes for people also.  Some that cross her path have been told lies.  That they are worthless.  They have nothing to offer.  What they desire is unimportant.  Perhaps the greatest draw to Anne Cvrk is her ability to convince others they matter.  Finding meaningful work according to individual abilities, she matches task to worker.  In other words, she sets up people for success.  In turn, God has blessed her teamwork ministry.