TUESDAY THOUGHTS: WHO'S MINDING THE STORE?

I remember traveling, by car, to Louisiana every summer when I was a child. 

Addis was VERY different from Washington, DC. 

I do so appreciate the experience, though. 

We learned how to, among other things, burn trash using gasoline (because the garbage man only picked up bottles and cans), wash clothes on a washboard and use a wringer washing machine, and hang washed clothes on a makeshift line, that was strung between two big trees. We learned how to pick figs, cherries, and tomatoes,  and cut sugar cane, avoid snakes and ants, and sweep dirt--outside. 

Every day, the older relatives would go outside and sit in wrought iron chairs under a big pine tree, and we would sweep the ground around the tree to clear away needles, rocks, and any other debris.

My grandmother lived "back of Addis" across the railroad tracks. 

For a long time Addis Lane was a gravel road. 

From my grandmother’s house to the store, was about a mile-- a mile I enjoyed walking. 

No one bothered you as you walked, and the trip could take a while, because you stopped to have brief chats with so many people, many of whom were distant relatives. 

"You Miss Ethel's gran, huh, Baby? How your Mama ‘nem? Lawd, if ya'll don't look just like Myrt”.

We knew to behave like we belonged to Myrt, too. 

Between stopping at Miss Kate Bakington’s house for kool-aid or pecan candy, standing while my grandmother's peers "looked" at us, running from dogs, meeting yet another new cousin, or waiting for the train to move and unblock our path, the walk to the store could take hours.

My grandmother always sat down, and made a list for us. 

After giving us money (that she kept in I don't know how many knotted, cotton, embroidered handkerchiefs), we'd get very specific instructions. 

"If they don't have this, bring that. If they have this, bring two. If this is on sale, get this much. You can buy this or that for yourself, but bring my change back". 

If she didn't have money, she'd tell us to tell the store keeper to put the groceries on her account. She could have walked to the store herself, but she gave us an opportunity to prove that we could follow directions and be trusted.

The store experience usually went well, depending on who was minding the store. 

Maybe we didn't look like we belonged in the country because we'd get crisp, colorful new summer outfits for each trip. It didn't take long before we got hip to the fact that we didn't need new clothes. It was always hot in Addis, most of the day there was work to do, and everything we wore was eventually christened with sweat and dirt. The walk to the store was a definite sweat inducer. 

If the store owner was there, we'd give him the list. "Ya'll must be Miss Ethel's grand from up to DC!" He'd stare at us, and say it every time we approached the counter. He respected my grandmother (who was one of the oldest residents of Addis), and always gave us a big Jax cookie or a moon pie. 

He'd ask if we were walking, and would make sure the bags were secure. 

There was still overt racism and prejudice, and my grandmother would often remind us to be polite. "Don't say nothing. Don't sass people. Mind your manners". 

We couldn't go to the store and act up. 

My grandmother had a reputation, and a good relationship with the store owner. 

Since the store was always neat, clean, and cool, as a result of the big fans in the windows, it was a relief to get inside, after such a long walk. Getting kicked out for misbehaving, was the farthest thing from our minds. Just like my grandmother, the store owner had a good reputation with his customers, and always made sure he stocked what they needed so that they wouldn't bypass his business and go to the newer brick store across the street.

There were times, however, when the store owner wasn't there. 

There would be someone who looked like him, and even walked and talked like him, but his demeanor was drastically different. He wasn't kind like the store owner. He really didn't want to offer much help at all. His speech was abrasive, and when he made change, he wouldn't put it in your hand like the store owner did. He'd throw it on the counter. He never smiled, and was rude. All of that aside, he had been left in charge.

 

My sister was good in Math, and always knew how much change we should get back. 

A child who knew more than an adult, wasn't always welcome. 

My grandmother warned us not to say much, and to always let whoever was in the store know that we were her grandchildren, if we needed to. 

When we would say who we were, the store keeper's helper changed his tone--not much--but it was obvious enough to recognize that perhaps, he had been warned about his behavior with customers. 

He didn't care about customers as much as he reveled in the idea of being left in charge of the store. 

He wasn't given the task often, but when he was, it made for a few miserable trips to the store. 

 He felt when he was left in charge, that he could do whatever he wanted, however he wanted. 

In the absence of the store owner, he had been given authority and he made it known.

 

Sadly, many who are given authority forget that the responsibility and blame for their actions, often fall at the feet of someone else.

The brick store across the street was slightly larger and cleaner. It carried a wider variety of items. My grandmother liked the smaller wooden store because, perhaps, it was more familiar, and she'd been going there to shop for a longer period of time. 

Certain brands were there, and certain cuts of meat. The prices were slightly less, too. 

The behavior of the helper, though, posed a problem. More and more people were crossing the street to go to the other store.

In my young mind, I wasn't looking at the situation from a business standpoint. I just enjoyed the walk to the store. Getting there however, and having to brace yourself for the store helper's antics, wasn't fun. 

It was a relief to open the screen door and see the store OWNER. 

His helper mimicked him in only one way--being in charge. 

His demeanor, behavior and attitude was awful. 

It just showed me that, without the heart of the person you assist or serve, you run the risk of damaging what it may have taken them years to build.

When chores were finished at my grandmother's house, we could watch television. One of the shows I came to love, (and still do), crossed my mind as I was writing. 

On "The Andy Griffith Show", the gas station owner, Wally, often left his employee Gomer Pyle, in charge. 

Gomer's job was to pump gas, and provide water and air. 

He didn't do anything else, nor did he try to. He made it clear what his assignment was, and he did it well--and with a pleasant attitude. He also knew how to defer problems to the right person. If Wally wasn't available, he'd call on his cousin Goober. 

 Gomer knew that the gas station belonged to Wally. He imitated Wally in the courteous and efficient manner in which customers were treated, but he didn't covet what Wally had, or desire to BE him. Wally had standards which he upheld, and he instilled those standards in Gomer. 

It was clear that Gomer respected his employer, and cared very much for the success of the business much more than what he could get out of it.

Some things can't afford to be left in the hands of imitators, wannabe's,  or fakes who covet power, authority, and the material trappings that come along with it. 

Some people covet positions within an organization or group, but they have all the people skills of a box of rocks. 

It is nearly impossible to impress upon some people that their role is that of a servant. 

Often, we want so much to lord over others, and tell them what to do. We want to be pampered and attended to. We want accolades, honor and respect. We want others to bow and submit, because we have authority, and even find scripture to justify putting others in bondage. 

We want to be "large and in charge" in an arena that was not built with our own sweat. 

On the surface, being in charge appears to be glamorous. 

 Unfortunately many never get past the glamour part long enough to learn what an humbling thing it is to serve, and serve well.

To be given authority is a sobering thing. Authority can be delegated, but not responsibility. 

When the criticism comes, it rarely lands where it deserves to be. 

Often, whole communities, assemblies, businesses, and families are negatively impacted because of the unwise, reckless, pompous, irresponsible behavior of one person. 

Having a job, title, position or task to do, means one thing--you are a servant; a representative, and in effectively and efficiently carrying out your duties, you assist in building a good reputation for the whole organization. When a servant exhibits the attributes of a bully or tyrant, it is clear that serving was never the objective.

Jesus was wise, brilliant, industrious, talented, and capable, but even Jesus, did the will of his Father. Looking like him; walking and talking like him, would have meant nothing if he didn't have the heart of God. He wasn't about his own business while on the job. He wasn't trying to make a name for himself. he didn't promote himself. He served in a manner that well pleased his Father.
God could trust Jesus to mind the store. 

Who have you left to mind YOUR store? 

Someone who wants to be like you, or someone who secretly wants to BE you? 

Someone who understands the seriousness and purpose of your work and effort, or someone who only sees and covets the material benefits and blessings that flow as a result of it?

In a world of options and choices, who will mind your store isn't a decision to make carelessly.