For Whom the Doorbell Tolls

I’m a friendly person. I really am. I’m easy to get along with, because there are very few things that bother me. Even at that, I realize the things that bother me don’t necessarily bother others. I guess I’m a live and let live kind of person. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.

You don’t have to agree with me for us to get along. Most of my friends are polar opposites of me. In fact, so is most of my family. So is my husband. I’m used to being the odd one out, and having a sense of humor about it.

Being the friendly sort, I like people. All kinds, all colors, all faiths, all beliefs. You don’t have to be like me. In fact, there’s an excellent chance you won’t be, which is probably a good thing for you. Having said that, I’m feeling a little less than friendly lately.

The reason? My hyperactive doorbell. It’s not my family and friends that I’m opposed to, and it’s certainly not the pizza guys and gals, who are welcomed with open arms. It’s the others, and they are starting to make a nuisance of themselves. They fall into three broad categories. If I were the unfriendly type, I would post a notice by my doorbell. It would go something like this.

"If you are a salesman, we don’t want any. If we wanted it, we would have already bought it." This category would include the vacuum salesman that stayed for almost three hours, in spite of the fact that we told him, repeatedly, we weren’t interested. I have hard wood and tile through most of my home. The one room with carpet doesn’t need a vacuum that costs thousands of dollars. Which we told him, over and over. He had apparently been dropped off, and was waiting on a ride. We finally got him back out of the door, and he had to wait for a ride. Mean of us, yes, but so is not taking no for an answer.

"No, we do not want you to rake our leaves, cut our grass, or trim our trees. We have a yard service for that. If we get desperate, we have a 12 year-old son for that." This one really gets to me. We have someone ring our doorbell just about every single day offering to do yard work. First of all, I frankly just don’t care if I have leaves in my yard. I have two giant oak trees in my yard, so I’m going to have leaves, even if the yard guy has just come. As soon as the wind blows, there are going to be more leaves.

Neither do I care if the grass is an 1/8 of an inch above where it should be. I pay handsomely for someone to do my yard, but admittedly we are easygoing about it. He gets to us when he can. We just aren’t that picky. When the day comes that I have only the leaves on my yard to stress over, that will be a joyful day indeed.

And, last but not certainly not least: "I am a firm believer in my faith. You are not going to change my mind. Please don’t try." I am apparently doomed to damnation, at least in one sweet lady’s mind. She is sincere. She is faithful. She has been to my door probably a dozen times in the last three months. I think she is truly concerned for me, but she just will not accept that I am strong in my faith and she is not going to sway me. I like her, and wouldn’t mind getting to know her or having a cup of coffee with her.

But I’m not going to argue about my faith with her. She doesn’t agree with mine, and I happen to believe hers is a cult, not a religion. I haven’t told her that, because it would offend her, and that is not what I want to do. She really is sweet. So is all of the others that want me to switch brands to their particular version of their particular religion.

I don’t believe there is only one true faith, only one brand that is the chosen one. People are individuals, and different types of churches that worship in different ways appeal to different people. I think God is a lot more concerned about whether or not we worship Him than how we choose to worship Him. There are a few absolute truths that a church must believe in order to truly be a church, but other than that, I just don’t think it matters what name is over the door.

We each have our individual styles of worship and our individual preferences of churches. God made us as individuals, so I believe He understands our need to have different churches.
My sweet little lady calls it being divisive. I call it being unique, the way God made each of us.

I’m a friendly sort, to all sorts. But if you are a salesman, a itinerant yard worker, or in the mood to convert someone, I would prefer you go be friendly to someone else. Unless you’re bringing pizza. In that case, you can ring my doorbell anytime.