The Warmth Of The Hardware Store

I needed some glue I normally order from Italy, but didn't have time to wait. I figured the hardware store down Middle St. would do.

Walking over, I felt a bit of nostalgia. Who walks to a hardware store anymore? Normally I order from strangers far away and track the package online, watching it move through a well-tuned machine.

Inside, there was a dog. I made my way to the glue, and he got up and followed me. So did a friendly associate, wanting to help. I was sure I knew more about glue than he did, so I tried to shrug him off.

He persisted. "What project are you working on?"

"I make leather things," I admitted. "Ran out of glue."

"That's really cool."

I realized he'd stopped trying to help and started just being friendly. As slick as my supplier is, they cannot offer that level of service. None of them have a golden retriever that jumps in excitement when I log in either. 

Once I warmed up, so did the dog - he walked over and put his head against my thigh. I imagine that's a dog's way of hugging.  

At the counter, I asked about an old photo on the wall, and got a whole tour of the building's history.

My supplier gets me the glue that I rely on and they are much more polished. But to them I am an order number, an invoice, and no friendly dog.

I often think about our church being a well oiled machine, slick and professional but after my walk to the hardware store I am beginning to rethink that. 

We are not getting a Golden for the lobby though. 

Bless you

Pastor.