A DIFFERENT KIND (KINDER) WAY OF WELCOMING....

Years back, a young golf professional came to a new job. He spent a few days at a cheap motel with his family while he found a permanent place to live. Meanwhile, he started working. On the very first day of work, an older man, dressed in the worst possible golf attire (it looked like pajamas or something someone would go to sleep with), light checkered shorts, broad stripes on his shirt and argyle socks to his knees, came in and said, "hey pro, I am Toby and I know you have not had the time to unpack or move to a permanent place, so, I went to the supermarket and brought you this sack". The little paper sack contained a few pieces of fruit. The golf pro was grateful for the thoughtfulness, but...

The man went out to play and the pro ate some of the fruit. When Toby finished playing, he went to the shop. The pro was busy taking care of some customers. When the customers left, the pro asked Toby about his round, but Toby answered with a question: "can I get paid for the fruit?” Of course, the pro was surprised and did not know what to say, other than a hesitant, "how much?" Toby told him, the pro paid, and Toby left. I'll never forget that story.

This last Friday, I arrived to Oklahoma and start work on Monday at Elk City GCC. Most likely, under similar circumstances as the pro in the story above. New job, must find a (permanent) place to live (in this case, thanks to Ann Cowan and Joe Wynn, I had already found a place for the next six months), getting familiar with the people, streets, city (in this case at least two cities: Elk City and Sayre), golfers, bosses, high school players, coaches, neighbors, churches, etc. I knew no one but the people who hired me, and a handful of golfers, some of whose names I don't remember now, but that I will soon learn.

On the road to Oklahoma, the story above was not in my mind at all, until after I received a couple of text messages from Mrs. Ann Cowan and a phone call from Mr. Brad Spitzer, owner of the Sayre Record.  The text messages and phone call were to inform me that someone would help me unload the big truck I drove from Gallup with all that we could bring to Oklahoma. At first, I expected some hired help, which I didn't mind paying. But to my surprise, when I arrived in Sayre and drove to where Ramona and I will be living, none other than Mr. Spitzer was ready to help me unload the truck along with his son Drew and a young employee of the Sayre Record. It took us only about three hours, to unload. It looks like I will need to start working out, I was puffing and my muscles were tired, while Mr. Spitzer looked like he was just relaxing and getting ready walk in the park.

How is that for a humbling experience of welcoming to a new place? One of the members you will serve was there personally to help the newcomer. Just like if we were old friends or neighbors. I hadn't even met him yet until Friday! Thank you all for making us feel at home from the minute we
arrived!

P.S. Oh yes... I did meet Mrs. Dayva Spitzer , but very informally, from her vehicle window to mine: as I was clumsily trying to maneuver the large U-Haul truck with a trailer in reverse, I was blocking the street when she drove by and smiling joked: "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"... which I did, drove away to try to go around the block, and got lost, now Mr. Spitzer had to go and get me as well!

Matt: 25:31-40