I’ve heard it said that if you want something done, you should go to the church secretary.
Truer words have never been spoken.
Listen, I’m not trying to toot my own horn here. Lord knows no one else on staff does, but still, it’s not very Christian to puff yourself up. It’s just that anything that happens at the church comes past this desk. Want to know when the next children’s bible study is? I’ve put that on the calendar, reserved the room, and written the blurb for the church bulletin so I know exactly what’s going on there. Same with every committee meeting, social event, and obscure weekday worship service you can think of. You could check the church calendar, of course, and I would point you to that resource, but then you wouldn’t get the personal touch that comes from talking to the person in the know.
See, everyone comes through the church office. It’s the Roman Forum of the church. You’ll see the music minister fly in to make emergency copies before rehearsal. You’ll see the head of the finance committee dropping off a binder before administrative board meetings. You’ll see the associate pastor doing… associate pastor things. If you’re lucky, you can catch a glimpse of the youth pastor shuffling in around 11:30am, shamefully moving his magnetic marker on the office board to “in.” But more than that, you’ll have kids coming in off the playground for bandaids from the medical kit, volunteers stopping by for a chat before heading out into the world, and the lovely ladies of the altar guild on their way into church with some fresh gossip for us all.
Not that we gossip. No siree. We just ask the Almighty for strength and maybe put a name or two up on the prayer board.
Take the head of the trustees, for example. George was in here last week, trying to get approval for some new hydrangeas he wants to put in along the walkway up to the fellowship hall, and so he stopped by just to talk about how things have been going. That drew in Fran, who sits over at the volunteer’s desk. The conversation ranged from Mrs. Wickersham who’s having a hip replaced next Tuesday to Fran’s cousin’s grandson who’s moving up to New York to try to make it on Broadway to the new pool the Florinson’s are putting in out back. You hear all sorts of things just being around.
After Bill left, Fran smacked her forehead, saying she’d forgotten to remind him about the leaky sink down in the continuing education wing. Word is the second sink in the ladies room has had a drip for the past year. Now, we all love George around here, but you know that it takes an act of Congress to get him to get anything done. So I picked up some WD-40, a roll of duct tape, and a wrench from the office tool kit and went on down there. Took me ten minutes to fix that sink.
All in a day’s work.
Truly, though, I wouldn’t trade my job for anything. I like holding the keys to the kingdom, figuratively and literally. I get to be here for it all, the living breathing functioning of the body of Christ in the world. So what if I’m a little overworked and underpaid? The view from the big desk in the office is exquisite.
Just maybe send me a balloon or two on administrative professionals day.
The Wafer 