LIVING COLOR

Start with some powdered sugar, butter, and milk. Throw in a dash of food coloring, a little imagination, a few giggles and some heartfelt love...and voila! Life goes from black-and white to technicolor in the space of a nano-second.

She'd never baked Christmas cookies. And I'd never mentored a foster child. So this was unfamiliar territory for both of us.

True, we'd been counselor and camper two years ago, and had gotten along great. But we both knew this was different. This was real life. Home turf. There were no programs to follow or rules to guide us. And besides, in kid terms, two years is an absolute eternity. So like bewildered calves let out of the stall, we both looked more lost than liberated in our new surroundings.

We politely made our way to the kitchen and did our best to muddle through the preliminaries. Get out the ingredients. Acquaint her with the kitchen. Organize a workspace. There we go, easy does it. Nothing like sorting out mixing bowls and baking utensils to break the ice.

Then we started the actual baking. Thankfully, I'd mixed up the dough the night before, so we were able to dig right in. I showed her the various shapes...Christmas tree, stocking, star, angel...and gave her a brief lesson on rolling out dough. Then came the fun part: using the cookie cutters, peeling off the excess dough, and placing the treasured shapes onto the cookie sheet. 

We "oohed and awed" over each new creation, as if they were the first sugar cookies ever produced. For in a very real sense, they were. This was a first-time-ever experience for her, as well as for us together. As our nervousness gradually receded, it was replaced by an eager camaraderie. We were a unit, a team. And together we were doing the near-impossible: getting that unruly batter to submit and transform itself into yummy holiday treats!

And then, as the smell of baking cookies filled the kitchen, the real fun began: the frosting. Mixing it up from scratch. Watching the blender turn chunks of lumpy butter into creamy delight. Seeing a girl of eleven become a bonafide baker before your very eyes. And then the sheer joy of squeezing dark-colored liquid out of tiny bottles, turning pasty white frosting into vivid color. It truly was a thing of wonder.

After a quick dinner break, we rolled up our sleeves and in assembly-line fashion began painting our prized creations. I slathered on red or green as a base coat, and passed them on to my esteemed colleague. With artistic precision, she added the finishing touches, squeezing yellow or blue frosting out of our own handmade decorative tubes. We were an inseparable team...Laurel and Hardy, Batman and Robin, Martha Stewart and Emeril all rolled into one!

From strained silence to giggles and laughter. From polite distance to heads bent together, plotting and planning in front of a crackling fire. From stark black-and-white to fully vibrant, living color.

As we cleaned up the kitchen and boxed up the cookies, I reflected in awe on the transformation that had just occurred. She'd never baked Christmas cookies. And I'd never mentored a foster child. Yet together, we had just built a memory that would last a lifetime.

FROM ABIDING TO ABETTING...& BACK AGAIN

Kim Aldrich

abide: to remain stable or fixed in some state or condition; to continue; to remain.
abet: to contribute, as an assistant or instigator, to the commission of an offense.

It had been the sweetest season of my life to date. Seeds had been planted, roots had gone deep, and new growth had not only started, but remained. Each day my relationship with God was becoming more and more the air I breathed and the food I ate. For once in my life, I was truly abiding.

As if that wasn’t enough, over time the most marvelous “fruit” began to appear. Deepening and expanding friendships. Overflowing creativity and passion. An unmistakable sense of purpose. Childlike joy over the biggest or smallest blessing from my Father’s hand. Even the ability to laugh at things that had tripped me up or stunted my growth in the past. His life was flowing through me so continuously that I was no longer being held back by my own frailties. In my weakness, He was strong!

Then came the test. The undoing. The painful reminder that the deepest truths of the kingdom may be simple…but at times they’re anything but easy. Especially with an enemy on the prowl who knows our blind spots.

At first it was the small things that distracted my attention. A slight self-consciousness over a past area of hurt. Just a bit of scar tissue, nothing to worry about. Maybe a little extra preparation here or a bit of self-protection there will keep my heart safe. Then a task or two that needed doing, but came at a slightly quicker pace than I felt I could handle and still stay grounded. Not a problem, it won’t last long. I’ll just hurry a little faster and get it done, I told myself.

Then circumstances from without and within—you know the kind—the ones that disorient and unnerve you just enough to put you off balance without actually alerting you to any real danger. An inconvenience. A disappointment. A slight humiliation. A physical hardship or unmet expectation, or both. One after the other, after the other, after the other...until I no longer knew which way to turn or which end was up. Until (and this is the important part) I even lost the presence of mind to call for help. For I could have. Even at this point, I could have. But I didn’t.

True, I sent up a few half-hearted pleas, but nothing even remotely approaching the simple, gut-level communication I’d known before. Just a fruitless “wail of travail.” No repentance. No connection. No true transaction with God. No stopping everything and deciding I must have God or nothing else. For that would’ve involved actually stopping…the one thing I felt I couldn’t afford to do. Like Martha, I had become “troubled by many things” yet satisfied by nothing.

And all the while, my enemy circled and prowled with a satisfied smile. He examined both his handiwork and mine and said, “It is good.” I hit my knees. I shook my head. How was this possible??? Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined myself “aiding and abetting” such evil. Never in a trillion years would I have knowingly cooperated with his plans. But the evidence was irrefutable: Discontent. Shredded feelings. Confusion. Faithlessness. Despair. All my beautiful fruit had been replaced by the hideous produce of darkness. And I hadn’t even seen it coming. Or had I?

Gradually I began to recognize certain warning signs I’d previously overlooked. In hindsight’s glaring x-ray vision, my own fear, independence, and self-obsession were impossible to miss. And I repented. And repented. And when I was done, I worshipped.

I’d like to say the road to reconnection has been easy, but honestly it hasn’t. There’ve been false starts and setbacks, and more than a few tears. Some days my “branches” still ache. Trips to the woodshed are like that. Though correction and restoration are instantaneous, the bruises left by “aiding and abetting” can take a while to heal. But oh the joy of knowing the enemy’s plan is foiled! And oh the delight of rejoining God’s plan through simple steps of obedience!

Though life gets complicated, the “abiding” truth we can count on is still refreshingly clear: “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15: 5).

HIDING OR ABIDING?

Kim Aldrich

“I am the vine; you are the branches.” It sounds pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? “Remain in me, and I will remain in you.” What could be simpler? And yet, as my old youth pastor used to say: It’s simple, but it’s not easy.

Of course, it’s easy to abide when you’re at a retreat center surrounded by Christians or on vacation in Kauai (well, usually) but on a day-to-day basis how many of us truly abide in Christ? How many of us really even know what that means, much less how to actually do it on a regular basis?

A while back, I was confronted with that question for myself personally. Am I abiding in Christ? Am I truly walking with Him day-to-day, in a Vine and branches sort of way? And the answer that came back was unsettling, to say the least. I discovered that I was, at best, an “intermittent abider.” I tended to abide when my schedule went well, when my quiet times were consistent, and when I sensed the Lord’s presence the most. And in-between? Well, uh…in the infamous words of Paul Reiser…“not so much.”

Don’t get me wrong, I almost always intended to abide—and for years I actually thought I was. But it slowly began to dawn on me that those numerous in-between times were characterized much more by hunkering down and “just getting through it” than by actively trusting and abiding in Christ. For a veteran Christian of four decades, this was a startling realization! Apparently much of what I’d considered “trusting the Lord” had actually been “trusting myself” until I felt it was safe to trust the Lord again. Thump…the realization hit me like a ton of branches. In reality, I’d done far less abiding…and far more ducking and hiding. I’d done far more laying low and waiting til the storms passed than actually trusting the Vinedresser to quiet those storms or work them for my good.

But thankfully God in His kindness didn’t just leave me there in a heap. He gently but firmly lifted me up, dusted the branches out of my hair, and led me down a path of abiding I’d never experienced before. He began showing me, step by step, how to connect my heart to His, like a branch to a Vine. And once again, the words of my old youth pastor echoed through my mind: It’s simple, but it’s not easy. Yet, as I actually began trusting Him—in daily bite-sized steps of obedience—staying connected to the Vine became easier and easier. Although I continue to learn in fits and starts—and it’s been anything but “a perfect hundred meters” since—I’m slowly but surely starting to experience the abiding joy of…well, abiding!

It can be as straightforward as focusing on Him instead of the thing that’s frustrating me, or as complex as asking Him to help me unravel my thoughts when I’m so confused I don’t even know what I think. But either way, it involves simple, lovely choices day after day that eventually allow my heart to realize…Even in my weakness, He is there. Even in my doubts, He is there. Even in my willfulness and stubbornness, He is still there for me, if I let Him be. And slowly, but surely, I’ve found myself increasingly able to stop self-protecting and hunkering down and trying to arrange circumstances, til at last I find myself just standing there, connected to Him…aware that even my very life itself flows from His…and realizing that even the most devastating situation I can possibly imagine couldn’t really disconnect me from my Beloved…unless I let it.

I still have much, much more to learn about abiding. In fact, I’m probably still in the remedial class for those who’ve been walking with the Lord for as long as I have! Yet I’m also slowly-but-surely learning to recognize the difference between times I think I’m abiding, and times I actually am. And that difference is palpable. Tangible. The difference between life and death.

I can barely express the indescribable sweetness of letting your heart rest in that kind of connection to the Vine…letting His life-giving sap flow through your veins so freely that absolutely nothing else satisfies. It sure beats the heck out of “hunkering down” any day of the week—and twice on Sundays!

CUT FLOWERS

Kim Aldrich

The other day as I sat in my kitchen, one of my pastor’s recent sermons came to mind. I found myself chuckling: I remembered the kids reading “expiration dates” on various food items he’d brought in from home, including the Twinkie, which was so full of preservatives it would apparently last forever! Then I sobered up as I remembered the serious analogy the pastor had drawn from this lighthearted game of show and tell: that we all have an expiration date because of sin—and unless we deal with that terminal condition, nothing we value, including our very lives, will truly “keep.”

As I sat there thinking, my mind began to wander to the beautiful flowers on the dining room table in front of me. A Valentine gift from my husband, they were really starting to come into their own now. Over the past few days the arrangement had almost doubled in size because some of the buds that had originally been closed were now opening up in full splendor. A bouquet that had started out with only small red and purple flowers now boasted extravagant lavender and ivory blossoms as well. It was truly breathtaking!

But in an instant, a new realization changed my whole perspective. These are cut flowers, I thought. They’re going to die. Even though the new buds had blossomed and were behaving for all the world like a “live” plant, every single one of these flowers was, in fact, already dead. The truth then struck with double force as I suddenly pictured a pruned rose bush standing next to the cut flowers. The rose bush looked ugly, and quite honestly, dead as a doornail, while the bouquet looked fresh and alive and full of promise. But the reverse was actually true! At most, the cut flowers would last only a few days, while the rose bush would, all things being equal, probably live for years and years to come, possibly even producing fuller and more beautiful roses as a result of its barren season of pruning. I felt a strange mixture of sadness and excitement.

My mind then wandered back to my beautiful Valentine bouquet sitting in front of me. No woman, when her husband or boyfriend brings her flowers, thinks to herself, “Hey buddy, what’s the idea of bringing me a bunch of dead plants?” But unromantic as it sounds, that’s the reality! And no one who looks at a worldly person who seems “to have it all” thinks, “Oh, that poor person is dead in their sins.” But they are. They may blossom and grow intellectually, creatively, financially, even relationally; but spiritually speaking, unless they’ve been made alive in Christ, according to the Bible they’re already dead. And when they reach their “expiration date” this side of heaven, they will suffer loss—regardless of the lush foliage or breathtaking blooms they may seem to have sprouted. They’re rootless, and cannot sustain life.

Depressing as this sounds (especially just after Valentine’s Day!) there is still good news. VERY good news. Because the exact opposite of this scenario is also true. Those whose lives are truly grounded in God (who have had their sins forgiven and been made “alive in Christ”) really, truly will live forever! Even if, during times of pruning, their branches happen to look barren and dead. Because what’s most important is their roots. ROOTS LIVE: cut flowers don’t. It’s as simple as that.

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.” (John 15:5-6, NIV)

In all honesty, I will probably still be delighted the next time my husband brings me flowers. After all, it’s a beautiful gesture, and very romantic! But from now on, cut flowers will also be a “fresh” reminder to cry out with all my heart, “Oh Lord, plant my roots DEEP in You!”

PASTOR DRIVEN WIFE Sample Chapter

The following is an excerpt from The Pastor Driven Wife: Stories of God's Faithfulness from the Mundane to the Miraculous, by Paula Russell with Kim Aldrich.

To order the entire book, go to http://www.kimaldrich.com/.

MY DRUG BUST

“Trust in the LORD, and do good...” —Psalm 37:3

The first congregation my husband and I pastored while we were still in college was a small country church in the Appalachian Valley of southern Ohio. Each week we drove there on Friday afternoon when our classes were over and then travelled back on Sunday night after the evening service.

At that time, our budget for groceries was seven dollars a week on my husband’s fifty-dollar-a-month salary. Since we were still paying for college, we both found jobs in the summer to help supplement our income and save up for the next year’s tuition. He painted houses and mowed lawns, and I was hired as a sales clerk at a local drug store for $1.10 an hour.

I had been at my job only a few days, when I began to notice a teenage girl whose purchases were always the same: cough syrup and airplane glue. Being a fairly naïve country girl I didn’t figure it out at first, but eventually I realized that no one could possibly put together that many airplanes and I had never once heard her cough. I tried to strike up a conversation, but as soon as I approached her she would take off out the door like a scared jackrabbit.

So I began to pray that if God wanted me to reach out to her, He would make a way. To my surprise, the very next day she was waiting for me outside the store when I went out for my lunch break.

We walked to a nearby park, and thus began many days of walking and talking about a variety of subjects, including the fact that the cough syrup and glue were to help her stay high when she couldn’t afford alcohol or more expensive drugs.

She shared cautiously at first, but gradually her tough exterior began to erode away, and the walls that had been holding back the tears finally crumbled. She told me how her father had left her mother to raise her and her sister alone when she was only four years old, how her mother’s alcoholism had gotten worse and worse, and how her grandmother, the only person who had ever loved her or given her a kind word, had just died. After that she started selling drugs to support the “pain medicine” habit she had come to depend upon.

Her anger and bitterness ran deep. Then, in addition to everything else, the unthinkable had happened. She’d been raped by an older man who lived in their apartment complex and had become pregnant by him. As soon as her mother found out she was pregnant, she sent her off to an unwed mother’s home to have her babies—twins, a boy and a girl—and then forced her to put them up for adoption. She said she could still hear them cry at night and was haunted by their faces in her dreams.

Over a period of a few weeks, this deeply wounded girl slowly began to trust me, and I could tell she really looked forward to our times together. I eventually began telling her about Jesus, His love for her, and His life and death. She had heard some Bible stories from her grandmother when she was younger, but for the first time she began to open up and ask questions about how God could forgive her, and maybe even help her to find her twins. It was an awesome day for both of us when she finally prayed and asked Jesus to come into her heart and wash away her sin, the pain it had caused, and the pain she had endured at the hands of others. It was a gift beyond compare, and she received it with utter joy.

When we finished praying, she also had a gift for me. It was a bag of marijuana. She said, “I want you to take this. I’m not going to sell it and I’m not going to smoke it anymore.” We both rejoiced in her newfound freedom, and she resolved then and there to live a transformed life—by the power of Christ.

After we finished talking, I put her “gift” in the trunk of my car until it was time to leave work. Then I drove home, all the while trying to figure out what to do with my stash. I was afraid it was too much to flush down the toilet without clogging up the drain, and I definitely couldn’t put it out in the trash for fear someone might find it and use it. Then suddenly, I had a bright idea.

We had a small garage that was unattached to the house, so I thought that would be a perfect place to burn the stuff and be rid of it once and for all. I put a metal bucket in the middle of the garage floor, emptied the contents of the “gift bag” into it, and lit a match. My first impulse was to step outside, but then thinking it would be irresponsible to leave a fire unattended, I dutifully stood next to the bucket while billows of reefer smoke filled the garage. Mere moments before I had completed my mission, my husband—just home from work and expecting to find an empty garage—opened the door with a horrified expression on his face.

My answer to “What in the world are you doing?” was giddy laughter and a rather garbled praise report of a soul saved and a pastor’s wife feeling no pain.

Lesson Learned: Never underestimate the impact of one individual yielded to God, or one heart truly listening to another.

DEVOTIONS IN MOTION STARTER KIT

   INDEX CARDS
+ THESE GUIDELINES
= DEVOTIONS IN MOTION STARTER KIT!


GOAL: Intentionally making room in our lives to connect with God & His Word daily.


SCRIPTURE CARDS…
Scriptures to focus on during this season of your life


1. Choose Scriptures that have stood out to you recently: from sermons, your own reading, etc.


2. If you’re having trouble choosing Scriptures, sometimes it’s helpful to look at what you’re currently struggling with & work your way backward. For example, if you’re having trouble with self-control, then I Timothy 4:7 might be a helpful choice; or if you’re struggling with shame, consider Psalm 34:5!


3. FRONT OF CARD (unlined side): Write out Scripture, with reference
    BACK OF CARD (lined side): Scripture reference, at top or bottom


EXAMPLES
• FRONT: “…discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness.” BACK: I Timothy 4:7
• FRONT: “Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame." BACK: Psalm 34:5

4. Highlight words or phrases that are particularly meaningful to you.


5. On back of card, make a bullet-point list of any insights God shows you about this verse.


AFFIRMATION CARDS…
“Sweet somethings” from God’s heart to yours


1. FRONT OF CARD: Personalize Scripture
    BACK OF CARD: Write out Scripture (or just reference)

EXAMPLES
• FRONT: “I am more than a conqueror through Christ…” BACK: Romans 8:37 (write out Scripture, if helpful)
• FRONT: “God is finishing what He started in me…” BACK: Philippians 1:6 (write out Scripture, if helpful)


OR

FRONT OF CARD: Write out whatever God is teaching you right now
BACK OF CARD: List reference of where that principle is found in Scripture OR list names of Biblical characters who may have learned a similar lesson from God.


EXAMPLES
• FRONT: I am inching my way toward my goals... (learning the lesson of the ant)
   BACK: Proverbs 6:5-8
• FRONT: In Christ: Despair is temporary / Hope is permanent
   BACK: Esther, Ruth, Job… (etc.)


2. Highlight words or phrases that are particularly meaningful to you.


3. Whenever possible, list Scriptural basis for affirmation on back of card. At times this may require you to do a little research or ask others for help.


PRAYER CARDS…
A way to be more intentional about your prayer life


1. Whenever possible – when others ask you to pray for them, do so right then & there, so you won’t forget!


2. Or if you can’t pray for them right then, make up a card for one-time prayer needs labeled “Misc Prayer Requests” and list them one by one on the same card. When that card gets full, start another, and keep or toss the previous one as led.


3. For ongoing prayer needs:


• If it’s someone you pray for often, use one card per person.


• Write each person’s name on front of card, and write out their prayer needs on the back of card (the side with lines).


• If helpful, make a hash-mark next to each item as you pray for it. Example:


4. Various ways to handle prayer requests: 1) Use Prayer Cards daily, as led, 2) Pray once a week for everyone on your list, 3) Assign specific categories to different days: M-Family, 
T-Friends/Coworkers, W-Church Staff/Missionaries, etc.


EXAMPLES
• FRONT: Husband or children’s names BACK: (side w/lines) Bullet points w/ specific things to pray for them
• FRONT: Friend’s name BACK: (side w/lines) Bullet points w/ specific things to pray for them

BASIC RULES OF THUMB

1. An ounce of “Mary maintenance” is worth a pound of “Martha muscle.”


From time to time, you’ll need to do tend your cards, like you would a garden. Weed out ones that aren’t as pertinent to you in this season, update or rewrite cards as needed, and add cards that are fresh words from God’s heart to yours. Your cards will mean a LOT more to you (and be a whole lot more effective as a devotional tool) if you do this periodically. Think of this time as sitting at Jesus’ feet, rather than slaving in the garden! It’s one more opportunity to meditate on God’s Word…


2. Make your cards personal, but you don’t have to make them perfect.


Sometimes there’s the temptation to obsess so much over making the cards perfect that we can miss the main point of doing them. It’s great to personalize them or make them pretty (especially if this helps you to meditate on the verse at hand) but remember that they will ALWAYS be a work in progress…and only a practical means to a greater end: knowing God & His Word better!


3. If you’re never still, your cards won't "move" you nearly as much.


Although part of the purpose of Devotions in Motions cards is to make it easier to meditate on Scripture throughout your day, they are most effective when you spend some concentrated time meditating on the cards regularly, or at least periodically. Then when you are in line at the grocery store or in the doctor’s waiting room, they’ll be “fresher” to you and resonate more fully in your heart and mind. Think of them as old friends you want to stay in pretty regular contact with. ;D


HAVE QUESTIONS? If any of the above is unclear, or you just need a little help getting started with your Devotions in Motion cards, feel free to contact KIM ALDRICH @ kimosphere@aol.com. I’d be more than happy to talk you thru the process, and pray together as you get started!

A FAINT GLIMMER

Kim Aldrich

Since I haven't posted much since February, I thought I'd put something a little meatier up on the blog. The beginning of this story actually happened to me, and the rest, well...one of the wonderful things about writing is you can make the story end the way you WISH it had in real life.

As the young woman approached the row of Rite Aid cash registers, she let out an involuntary sigh. As usual, it looked like she’d be here a while.

“Would you like to go ahead of me?”

“Excuse me?”

He was the last person in line and his question left her bewildered.

“Would you like to go ahead of me, ma’am?” It was more of a plea than an offer.

“Well, uh…sure, I guess so. Thank you very much...”

“I may be a lot of things…but I’m still a gentleman.”

The comment came out of nowhere. She smiled in his general direction, all the while wondering what exactly he meant.

Then stealing a glance once he looked away, she discovered a clue.

His hands were full with two extra-large cans of beer that he cradled like a baby, and his scruffy salt-and-pepper beard, strong alcohol breath, and hazy eyes suggested the obvious. He was a drunk.

Her heart sank with compassion.

Then again, maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was just a regular guy on a beer run. But only two cans? And that breath.

As a checker droned on explaining “CRV tax” to the customer in front of them, the scruffy man turned to her and leaned in as if revealing a secret, “You know, they say they’re gonna raise that CRV tax…thanks to our illustrious governor, Mr. Schwarzenegger.” As he spoke, he nodded his head up and down and raised his eyebrows knowingly.

“Oh really?” she said, trying to sound interested while scanning her memory banks for what in the world CRV actually meant. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the checker’s description. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Yeah,” he said knowingly, as if he’d just gotten off the phone with the Terminator himself.

Again she smiled, somehow sensing that his casual banter was a mere band-aid barely covering a deeper wound.

“Next, please,” barked the checker.

She approached the counter, laid down her purchases, and searched through her purse for her credit card. In the meantime, the scruffy man had stepped up to the register to her left to begin his transaction.

Without warning, the manager who was ringing her up bellowed, “Hey, we caught you stealing beer the last time you were here! If we catch you stealing again, we’re gonna call the cops!”

What followed was an awful gut-wrenching silence, as if last shred of dignity had just been stripped from the universe.

The scruffy man froze, realizing all eyes were on him. He stared at the manager with all the lucidity he could muster. His eyes wandered back and forth in spite of his best efforts to steady them, and it was obvious this was as “scared sober” as he got. He fumbled for a reply.

Finally, he managed, “Well, that seems…fair.”

The manager looked uncomfortable. Apparently that wasn’t the response he’d expected.
Still clinging to some semblance of normalcy, the scruffy man muttered half to himself and half to whoever was listening, “I-I know it’s hard to imagine not remembering a thing like that, but I just don’t…” and then fell silent again.

One woman in line shifted her weight nervously while the man behind her lowered his eyes and cleared his throat. The scruffy man looked like he might crumple over in a heap if anyone so much as breathed his direction.

Suddenly, on impulse, the young woman found herself asking, “How much does he owe?”

The confused teenage checker stammered, “Uh, well…he actually has money today…”

“No, not today—I mean from before. How much does he owe?” she asked, turning her gaze to the manager.

“Well, he took a six-pack, so that’s, well…about seven dollars.”

She pulled out a five and two ones, thought better of it, then plunked down a ten dollar bill on the counter instead and declared, “There, now he’s even—plus interest.” Then looking the scruffy man in the eye she said slowly and deliberately, “After all, a gentleman always pays his debts—right?”

They held each other’s gaze for what seemed a full minute. The scruffy man’s chin trembled as he grasped her meaning. Then gradually he squared his jaw and nodded his agreement. She smiled and nodded back.

With all the gentlemanly grace he could muster, the newly liberated man completed his modest purchase. Then he shuffled his way toward the exit, still a bit bewildered, yet holding his head noticeably higher, a faint glimmer of genuine dignity radiating from behind his hazy blue eyes.