What God Taught Me Between 8:30 and 5:00 by Kim Jackson

My workplace is quite a classroom. I’m constantly learning. I’m not talking about job skills, although certainly I’ve picked a few of those up along the way.

It seems, although I don’t recall signing up for it, that I am currently enrolled in some sort of “Life Lessons” class.

I’ve yet to see a syllabus, but I can tell you some of the topics we’ve covered so far.

The first I’ll call “The Meaning of Mail.” One of my duties is to distribute mail at the Assisted Living community where I work. This task makes me very familiar with the residents who monitor their mailboxes on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. Every day I watch Dorothy nearly stand on her head to see if there is anything in her mailbox. When she is finished looking all the way to the back of the box, and seeing nothing there, she declares, “Not even a bill! If I got a bill at least someone would know I’m alive.”

I watch as residents walk by the mailboxes, trying not to be overly eager to see if there is any reason to stop. One resident doesn’t even wait for the mail to get in the building. He sits on the porch watching for the mail lady to pull up in her Jeep.

I’m always delighted when I get to put an envelope with handwriting on it in to a mailbox. It means that another human being cared enough to take time to write a personal note to someone who no longer lives in the outside world. I love seeing a face “light up” at the discovery of a missive in her mailbox.

“The Meaning of Mail” causes me to ask a simple question: “Who have I encouraged today?”

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing. 1 Thessalonians 5:11

My 8:30 to 5:00 Classroom also offers “The Meaning of Music.”

Since I serve as the unofficial DJ of the lobby area where residents gather throughout the day, it didn’t take long for me to discover that Howard loves anything by Montovani (“Autumn Leaves” is a favorite) and that Joann Castle’s honky-tonk piano playing always brings a smile. When Angela takes a seat in the lobby I put on old Broadway show tunes and I can guarantee you she’ll sing along with every one. Doris becomes an armchair conductor when I cue up the “Blue Danube”. I can hear Ellen singing her way down the hall before I see her: “Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus” precedes her appearance. So it’s hymns for her.

As I am changing the CDs in the lobby stereo, it occurs to me that music is a language that lasts. So I ask myself what song is presently playing in my heart. And I wonder what song will be playing on the stereo of my soul in 30 years.

By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me . . . Psalm 42:8

When you work at an Assisted Living, one of your workplace classes is not negotiable. You will automatically be enrolled in “The Meaning of Mortality.”

Every morning when I get to work I read the 24-hour report to find out what transpired over night. Who fell? Who went to the hospital? Who has a doctor’s appointment, whose meds should be ordered, whose diet has changed, and who needs to be more closely monitored.

And sometimes, who died.

Death is a sure part of life, but the timing often throws me off.

I’ve said goodbye to quite a few special folks in the past year. It’s never easy. Sometimes it’s incredibly hard.

I’ve caught myself looking out on the faces in the lobby and thinking, “Who’s next?”

Evidently, God wanted to underscore that last sentence. Even as I was typing it I heard a text message come in on my cell phone. Another friend has passed from this life.

But then that’s the meaning of mortality. Our lives here are transitory. It’s true for us all, no matter our age, no matter our physical health or lack thereof.

Will I be walking this planet in 30 years, 30 months, or 30 minutes? Will you?

Tomorrow is Monday. I’ll be back at work at 8:30. What will my first class be, God?

So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12