for those i see constantly but know little

Written by Amy L. Sullivan

SERVE Editor Word lover. Book devourer. Music addict. Amy is a Northern girl who found herself living in the South. She drinks sweet tea, turns her nose up at okra, and attempts to tell her daughters "yella" isn't a color.

April 11, 2013

reaching out

As a child, I remember visiting the local bank. Dark, shiny wood paneling lined the walls. People in formal attire smiled and handed out Dum Dums. Black pens hung on beaded chains. Chatter remained hushed.

I loved going to the bank and listening to the familiar interactions my parents had with bank employees.

Today, I can’t remember the last time I went inside a bank. Why would I? The ATM and drive-thru prove faster and more convenient.

At the gas station, I pay at the pump.

In the grocery store, self-check out lines remain short.

For used books, I buy online.

If I want a movie, I order it instantly.

When our naughty dog runs away, my neighbor texts.

Before I accrue fines, I renew my library books online.

Instead of buying the full CD of a new band, I simply click and purchase.

If I’m curious about a funny rash on my daughter’s arm, I google it.

My interaction with people I don’t know, but who work in my community is more limited than it’s ever been, and that’s a problem.

I’ve been taking a class about Becoming a Contagious Christian. In the class, we talk about deepening our relationships with those who line our lives. I like the idea of pushing beyond surface level conversations with those already in my life, but I’m astounded I can’t list the name of one person I come in contact with regularly at the store (self-check out), gas station (self-pay), or the bank (online banking). 

My goal? This week I will walk into the gas station to pay, and I might even chose the longer line in the grocery store. This week, I’m determined to learn the name of someone I see constantly, but know little.

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for those i see constantly but know little

by Amy L. Sullivan time to read: 1 min
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