“Be careful if she offers you a gin and tonic. There’s usually plenty of gin in them.”
I looked him incredulously.
Robbie, my Supervising Minister, and I were out seeing some of the congregation this afternoon.
“While we’re here let’s just pop up and see one of the elders,” he said.
We were in one of those nice apartment buildings that cater to the aging population.
The door opened.
“So nice to see you and thank you so much for coming; would you like a tea or a coffee, or would you like a gin and tonic?”
My first reaction was, “Heck yeah! That sounds great.” I looked at my watch, 2 PM with another visit ahead of us. “Oh, thank you, I’m fine.”
This was a delightful woman who obviously had a good relationship with her minister and we shared many laughs before it was time to leave.
We stood to go and she insisted, “Oh, no one leaves my house without something. I have some short bread (yum!), or why don’t I give you a bottle of gin to take home with you.”
Dad shared stories with me before I left about little old ladies offering the minister nips of sherry as he made his afternoon rounds.
“By the end of the day he’d be tottering!” he used to say.
I asked about that possibility and Robbie assured me things had changed.
However, the more we demurred, the more she insisted. In the end, each of us walked out with four pieces of homemade short bread and a bottle of gin to share between us. How could we refuse?
I think I like it here.