Janie Slaven: THE PREACHER'S DAUGHTER: In plain sight

May 8—He wasn't very tall, the stranger sitting in front of us. As the worship team sang I watched him pump his fists and raise his hands in the air. It was a bit overwhelming seeing an elderly gentleman that reminded me that much of my Pappaw praise the Lord 300 miles away from the mountains. Yet there he was, a reminder of something so incredibly important to me, in plain sight.

I leaned in to whisper what I was thinking to my husband, and he already knew what I was going to say. He put his arm around me and let me cry.

I'm a peculiar person. I fully own that. The Lord speaks to me in unusual ways. Granted he already knows how stubborn I am, I think he prefers to show me things in a manner in which I can't ignore. He also knows how quickly I can get wrapped up in things that are trivial and meaningless, so more often times than not he has to yell, or place something in my path that makes me stop and listen.

I've had a resentful and bitter spirit as of late. I'd rather wallow in pity than find gratitude in the blessings around me. I'm ashamed of that. I'm human, I'm flesh, but I still know better. I was never raised to envy anyone. Yet as an adult, I find myself in the trap of comparison. It's a horrendous place to hang out. It will steal your joy, that's no exaggeration.

The stranger. The gentleman seated in front of us at church. Seeing him, being reminded of my Pappaw Kelly, it made me think about the simple life he led. This man lived off a modest pension, he drew $16 a month in food stamps. He spent most of that on flour, lard, and milk. The house he shared for 30 + years with my Mammaw consisted of rooms without doors, lacked central heat and air, and he wrapped plastic around the windows every winter. Yet he was grateful and never once complained. He lived in a mansion.

He wore cologne to church with zip up dress boots. He sometimes splurged and got a cold cut sand-which from Cy Jones Market after. He was a happy man who loved the Lord. He was a content man. He knew what mattered.

So as I blubbered through most of the music at church this morning, just before noticing a worn Bible in the seat beside him, I saw the past. It wasn't a coincidence that our pastor also used this phrase during his sermon... "Sometimes we can still see our past, so we can appreciate where we are." Mine was in plain view this morning, sitting right in front of me.

As I helped my husband in our front flower beds this afternoon I thought about how incredibly grateful I was for the dirt underneath my hands. I FaceTimed my mom to show her our progress. She's told me before how much her daddy would've loved this little house. I have thought about him all day.

I fell asleep in my husband's recliner after cleaning up and making a sandwich on light bread, one similar to what Kelly Lambdin would've ate after listening to Horace Partin preach. I am thankful for a stranger today. One who freely praised the Lord, took his glasses off to wipe away tears, and had a slight lean in his shoulders, the same as my grand daddy.

Gratitude. I found gratitude today, it was in plain sight.

Erinn Williams is originally from Williamsburg, and now resides in Owensboro, Ky. The daughter of a teacher and a preacher, she hopes to make a difference through her words. She serves as an elementary educator in Daviess County, and writes for Owensboro Parent magazine in Western Kentucky. She can be contacted at [email protected].