Sunny Side Up with Kathleen Gibson Read the Door Signs Carefully A few years ago the Preacher and I decided to take in a museum at a historical site in Calgary. High tourist season had finished, and the place seemed eerily empty. Before entering the museum chamber, I meandered down the hall to the washroom, entering through the door decorated with a picture of a period-costumed woman. A minute after I entered, someone followed and entered the cubicle next to mine. Two shoes shuffled about on the other side of the divider, large and scuffed, but very comfortable looking. I hadn�t seen anyone else in the museum, but I knew her type, I thought; a practical sort like me. Shoes like that sat in my own closet. As I washed my hands, one of the museum attendants entered the washroom and we chatted for several minutes. When I left the restroom I still hadn�t caught a glimpse of the shoes� owner. Back in the lobby, I couldn�t find the Preacher. I probably kept him waiting too long, I thought. Perhaps he�s gone in without me. As I made for the ticket counter, he approached from behind. �Sorry for taking so long,� I said. �I was talking to one of the attendants from the museum.� He wore a strange expression. �I know,� he said, �that was me next door to you!� No wonder the shoes in the next stall had seemed so familiar. They�d not only looked like the pair in my closet�they were that pair. �Did you miss your school history lesson on early 19th century clothing?� I asked after I�d caught my breath and wiped my tears. He shrugged. �Must have.� A single clear word �Women� on the washroom door could have prevented the Preacher�s error. He had misread the ladies/men symbols, but didn�t realize it until he�d sat down�and noticed a pair of familiar shoes on the other side of the stall divider. A few seconds later my voice confirmed his worst fears. Embarrassed and hoping for a chance to exit unseen, he�d waited. But the attendant had been deep cleaning the counters and he had to choose between facing one (very twenty-first century) woman or risking the chance of more. We saw that attendant later in the gift shop�still chuckling. She�d been looking down when the Preacher had exited his stall and hadn�t noticed him until he tapped her on the shoulder. He�d said something like, �Uh, sorry to startle you, but somehow I ended up in the wrong gender.� Despite a significant level of surprise (ahem, ahem), she�d stayed calm. He�d told me that, too, but she verified it, chuckling. �Been there, done that,� she�d responded. �Good thing it was only me in here!� She�d made the same mistake herself, years earlier, she told us. The Preacher appreciated her empathy. Doors confront us all our lives, and some lead to eternity. When confronted by those doors, the one to heaven clearly reads �Jesus Christ�. Choose carefully. Not all roads lead to home. August 13-08 �2008, Kathleen Gibson Respond Home |
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