Valentine's Every-Day

She enthusiastically replied, "Great! I'll see you then!" and moved to join a group of her friends across the room.

*******

Over the following weeks, I fell into a routine and became integrated into life at Powell, Faith Bible, and Jacobs Hardware. Classes were going well, and the hardware store atmosphere felt like a reunion with an old friend. Whatever tensions I had melted away when I entered through the old, creaky screen door on Main Street.

At church, I began to build friendships with a few of the guys in NG and, on more Sundays and Wednesdays than not, Emily would initiate a few minutes of friendly conversation with me. Over the course of those brief chats, I learned she was an Early Childhood Education major, her dad was a tenured seminary professor at Powell, she was a cheerleader and president of the quiz bowl team in high school, and... she always dressed impeccably. In turn, I told her about my engineering major and a little about my family background, including how the Burkee's made attending Powell a reality for me.

Emily made conversation easy. She looked beyond my nervous shortcomings and was genuinely interested in me as a person. It was obvious that she authentically cared for people around her, friends and strangers alike, and not in a fake or flirty way like some girls. Her infectious, cheerful personality brought out the best in people and brightened the day of anyone she encountered.

As the school year progressed, Emily's pure personality and intentions put me at ease and my social awkwardness faded away when in her presence. I felt comfortable... I felt good when I was with her.

*******

Freshman year flew by and, in a few weeks, I would return home to work at Burkee Hardware for the summer. Mr. Burkee had generously offered to continue our tuition arrangement if I would manage the store for the month of July. Last summer, he and Mrs. Burkee had really enjoyed the extended western road trip and, this summer, they were planning to park their beach chairs in Key West for a month.

That Thursday evening in Powell, I swept floors at Jacobs Hardware while Mr. Jacobs worked on fixing a problematic cash register drawer that had started sticking recently. It was common for us to chat about random meaningless topics in the evenings, but tonight Mr. Jacobs had other things on his mind, "What are your plans for the summer, Mike?"

I didn't understand his covert probing and innocuously answered, "Nothing big. Just going home and working at the hardware store."

"Well, I was hoping I could convince you to stay in town and work here. The customers like you and I could really use some full-time help for the summer."

Thinking there was a miscommunication, I apologized, "I'm sorry. I thought you knew I was going home for the summer."

"I did. I was just hoping to change your mind. I could really use you."

I thought for a moment, sighed, and decided it best to tell him the bigger story, "I'm sorry Mr. Jacobs. I feel like I'm letting you down, but I really need to go home for the summer. It's the only way I can afford to come back to school here next year."

He looked at me quizzically and jokingly said, "You know I'll pay you, right?"

I chuckled then more seriously continued, "Yes, but there's more to it. My family isn't wealthy like most of the students here and, quite honestly, it's only because of God's providence that I was able attend Powell this year." I went on to explain what the Burkee's had done for me, and what they were offering to do for me again next year.

When I finished talking, Mr. Jacobs compassionately said, "I understand, but I hope you'll come back to work next school year."

"Of course, I will."

I could tell he was still mentally processing things while I continued sweeping floors, progressing my way to the back portion of the store. After about 10 minutes, Mr. Jacobs approached me and somewhat hesitantly asked, "So the Burkee's are paying your tuition?"

"Yes. Well... a portion of it. They're paying for what isn't covered by scholarships."

"And, you're paying for room & board and living expenses?"

"I'm paying what I can, then I'm taking out student loans for the rest."

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Mr. Jacobs said goodnight then left me to finish sweeping and lock up for the night.

*******

The following Tuesday evening, Mr. Jacobs and I tidied the store at the end of the day while making superficial conversation about the welcome spring weather. As we finished our evening routines, Mr. Jacobs insisted, "Come with me. I want to show you something."

I followed him up the stairs to the store's second floor of merchandise, then through shelving aisles to the locked third-floor stairway. He fished a key out of his pocket, opened the door, and we proceeded up the creaky stairs.

The top floor of the building was a dusty, neglected space haphazardly strewn with old shelving units, ancient product displays, and other long forgotten things. I had been up there a few times to retrieve items at Mr. Jacobs' request, and was sincerely hoping he didn't have aspirations of me organizing the mess before I left for the summer.

Once at the top of the stairs, we carefully followed narrow foot trails toward the front of the building. We high-stepped through the clutter and Mr. Jacobs explained, "The store has been in my family for 3 generations so there is a lot of history laying around here. My wife used to keep it all organized but, honestly, that hasn't been on the top of my priority list since she passed away."

He rarely talked about his family, but I had stitched together enough bits and pieces to know his wife died of cancer about 10 years ago and that he had an adult daughter serving as a long-term missionary somewhere in southeast Asia.

We approached a wall with a locked door that divided the rear storage space from the front portion of the building. Mr. Jacobs unlocked the door and gestured me through the doorway.

He joined me and looked nostalgically around the room before speaking, "My parents let me build this little apartment when I was your age. I didn't go to college and couldn't afford to live on my own, but didn't want to be a grown adult living with my parents. Eventually, I married my wife and we lived in this little place for a couple years until we bought our house."

I looked around the small studio style apartment as he spoke. There was an open kitchen along the back wall where we entered, an enclosed bathroom to one side, then an open living and bedroom space overlooking Main Street through tall seeded-glass windows. Exposed wood rafters, hardwood floors and brick walls gave the space a warm and cozy feel despite all the furnishings being covered with dust-layered plastic sheets.

He swiped his hand across the kitchen island creating a cloud of dust, "We spruced it up for my daughter to use while she went to Powell, but she's been gone for about 8 years now."

We stood in silence for a brief moment before he sighed loudly and continued, "You're a good kid, Mike. I knew that already, but the fact that John Burkee trusts you to run his store for a month reinforces it that much more."

He looked me in the eyes as he continued, "There's no good reason for you to take out student loans for housing when this place is sitting empty. I'd like you to live here when you come back to school next fall."

He paused for a couple seconds then said in an attempt to not appear soft, "That way YOU can keep an eye on that temperamental boiler, and I don't have to come into a cold store in the morning... Oh, and you'll need to organize the storage area so you can get in here without killing yourself."

I think I began to tear up a little and said, "Wow, I don't know what to say Mr. Jacobs."

"Don't get all sappy on me. Just say 'yes' you idiot." And that was that. God was good and had provided once again.

*******

Summer went by in a flash and I enjoyed every minute of it. It was great to see all my hometown friends and old customers from the hardware store. My parents were thrilled to have me back in the house and, oddly, I felt glad to be home. While I enjoyed the personal growth that came with going away to school, it was nice to be somewhere familiar and comfortable.

The Burkee's returned from their Key West beach-therapy with dark tans and not a care in the world. In conversations over the summer, I sensed our relationship was slowly evolving from a pseudo-parent/child connection to more of a friendship among adults. While not firmly committing to anything, they hinted that they would like our vacation-tuition arrangement to continue for the rest of my college career.

*******

I returned to Powell on Monday, a week before classes started, so I could get the hardware store apartment in livable condition. I greeted Mr. Jacobs and thanked him profusely for letting me use the apartment. He brushed off my gratefulness and jokingly said, "That's ok. I'm getting a nightwatchman and a clean third-floor out of the deal."

I spent the first day clearing a widened path through the storage room, then prioritized cleaning the apartment. I figured I could more thoroughly clean and organize the storage room after I had a suitable place to sleep and eat.

The apartment was fully furnished with a single bed, sofa, television, small dining table set, appliances, dishes, and other misc. accessories. All were decidedly 'vintage' but were in good condition and functional. Plastic sheeting had protected the furnishings very well from years of accumulated dust, but I would need to do some serious floor and wall cleaning the next day. At least I had gotten far enough to be able to crash on the sofa that night.

The next couple days were spent more thoroughly cleaning the apartment and contents, and included a shopping excursion to stock the kitchen cabinets and fridge. When he could spare time, Mr. Jacobs started sorting through some of the storage room clutter while I cleaned, occasionally reminiscing and telling stories about various items he found along the way.

With the apartment itself in pretty good shape, the rest of the week was spent in the storage area. Mr. Jacobs had used color-coded sticky notes as he sorted through things. Red for trash, yellow for donate, and green for keep. It took two full days of constant trips up and down the stairs to remove all the trash and donation items. Mr. Jacobs laughed at my obvious exhaustion and said, "I think I got the better end of the deal! Free rent isn't so free, is it Mike!?!"

By Friday evening, the hardest portion of the work was finished, and I could focus on organizing the remaining green-tagged items. I assembled a dozen old metal shelving units that were being stored in pieces and used them to arrange miscellaneous small things, removing collected dust as I handled each piece.

Large antique and vintage product displays were gathered according to subject matter and placed in groupings along the building's blank sidewall. Finally, boxes were labelled and stacked in organized rows running the length of the storage room. Most everything was in its place by Saturday night. I could deal with the few remaining odds and ends after school started.

*******

The next morning, I went to Faith Bible's morning worship service where it was great to reconnect with the NG guys I had grown close to Freshman year. We caught up on everyone's summer adventures, laughing and enjoying each other's company again.

We spent some more time talking after the service ended at 12:30, but quickly grew hungry and guys began leaving in search of food. It was then that I saw Emily approaching from across the room. As always, her face radiating beauty without the artificial assistance of makeup.

She wore a modest sleeveless white summer dress adorned with a fashionable navy-blue floral print. Its conservative A-line profile ended a few inches below her knees and, in combination with strappy white heels, very attractively highlighted her toned calves and delicate ankles. In contrast, the waistline and bodice of the dress were neatly fitted to her body contours and accentuated her petite hourglass figure. She looked amazing.

Emily's strawberry-blond hair fluttered in the breeze as she approached me, and her bright blue eyes connected with mine. Happy to see her, I smiled broadly and unsurely extended my hand to greet her. True to her warm and caring personality, she pushed my hand aside in favor of a brief hug between friends. Due to our height difference, her arms snaked around my waist and she momentarily pressed her head against my lower chest. Uncomfortable with this new experience and not wanting to cross any inappropriate boundaries, I awkwardly patted her shoulders until she released her short embrace and excitedly announced, "It's so great to see you Michael!"

"It's good to see you too Emily. How was your mission trip?"

Emily had spent the summer teaching at a missionary school in Haiti and spent a few minutes telling me highlights before she asked, "How was your summer?"

I sheepishly told her about the hardware store and reconnecting with old friends. It all seemed so mundane and meaningless compared to serving poverty-stricken children in a natural disaster ravaged country. If Emily felt the same, it certainly wasn't evident. She seemed truly interested and asked a few questions that were more about me as a person, than the facts of the summer. Her ability to genuinely connect with people was real gift.

*******

My Sophomore year went much the same as my Freshman year. Classes went well and I regularly attended Faith Bible's Sunday worship and NG study. I became very close with the group of guys and we regularly hung out whenever our schedules aligned. Likewise, Emily and I continued our pattern of short, friendly conversations whenever we saw each other at church events.

The apartment at the hardware store was great. The solitude of living by myself away from the dorm suited my personality and had the side benefit of me being more available to Mr. Jacobs. Occasionally he would call me down outside of my scheduled working hours when he was in a pinch. I didn't mind at all and, when I didn't have other obligations, I would frequently wander downstairs anyway to help customers or just to chat.

The following summer, I returned home to continue my tuition-vacation agreement with the Burkee's while most of my friends from school dispersed to missionary callings around the globe.

*******

After another successful summer at Burkee Hardware, I somewhat reluctantly said my goodbyes and returned to Powell for my Junior year. It was comfortable at Burkee's and I had grown to consider many of the regular customers as good friends. I couldn't fully understand my emotions, but I knew it just felt right to be rooted there.

I arrived back in Powell a week before fall-term classes started. Mr. Jacobs was happy to see me and was eager to share some new ideas he had over the summer. We spent several days doing a deep cleaning of the store and switching seasonal retail displays to feature fall items.

He keenly observed that all things antique and vintage were coming back into vogue, so we pulled some of the old merchandising items out of third-floor storage and gave the storefront display windows a more vintage look. I had to admit, the new display was very befitting for the 100-year-old building's historic character.

While we worked together, Mr. Jacobs asked my opinion on some of the new home and farm technology he had been reading about in trade magazines. I gave my honest opinion that it would be good to stock minimal numbers of basic home connectivity items that might appeal to more technology savvy Powell College faculty and staff. However, Powell was a small rural town and most of the store's customers were slow to adopt new technology. It probably wasn't a good business decision to load up on a lot of expensive inventory that would become quickly outdated with the next Silicon Valley innovation. Mr. Jacobs smiled and agreed.

It felt good to be back in the store with Mr. Jacobs. He had become more of a friend than a boss over the last couple years, and our conversations flowed easily regardless of topic. My feelings at Jacobs Hardware were very similar to those I had at Burkee's. It just felt right.

*******

I woke up Sunday morning eager to reconnect with friends at Faith Bible. The first Sunday before classes started was a homecoming of sorts, and the church had planned a special fellowship meal for returning Powell students.

Upon arrival, I joyfully greeted a group of friends and joined in the mingling before the service began. My excitement eroded to dejection as I stood listening to missionary stories brought back from far corners of the globe. They were exciting and inspirational experiences but, to me, they were a reminder of my comparatively dull and inconsequential summer. I had aspirations of leading people to faith and making an eternal difference in the world... not being trapped in a hardware store by my financial circumstances.

I went through the motions of worship that morning, but praise and thankfulness were the furthest things from my mind. Mostly I sat there feeling sorry for myself. Unlike most of my classmates, I didn't come from a family that could pay for my education, let alone fund far-flung summer missionary adventures. I lost interest in the fellowship meal, both the food and impending summer mission stories, and quietly slipped out the door after worship service ended.

I needed a distraction and decided to tackle the most annoyingly tedious of all hardware store tasks... sorting through the bulk hardware bins. In search of the correct item, customers always seem to put wrong size bolts, nuts, washers, screws, etcetera in the wrong bins, which makes the process that much more frustrating for the next customer. The bins were a complete mess and I assumed they probably hadn't been sorted for at least a couple months.

Customer traffic was very light and by mid-afternoon I had made my way through about half of the bins. I sat on an overturned bucket while my fingers lazily raked through a bin of supposedly 3/8-inch hex nuts, picking out erroneous sizes.

My head craned to see around the cabinet of bins when I heard the front screen door open and close, followed by footsteps lightly creaking across the old hardwood floors. Racks and displays obscured my view of the person's upper body, but petite calves and stylish ankle strap heels easily identified the woman as Emily.

My sullen words were just loud enough to be heard over the click-clack of her heels, "Hi Emily. I'm over here."

She rounded the corner and stood at the end of the bin cabinet, "I didn't see you at the fellowship dinner and didn't get a chance to say hello. Did you have to work?"

My eyes and fingers were still searching for miscategorized nuts as I did my best to put on an upbeat facade, "Not really, I just wasn't hungry so I figured I would come back and get started on this."

I should have known that Emily's caring personality wouldn't accept that kind of whitewashed answer. She positioned an overturned bucket about an arms-length away from me, then sat down and modestly adjusted the skirt hem over her crossed legs.

Sufficiently settled on the bucket, her eyes gazed at me inquisitively, "What's going on Michael?"

I sat for a moment contemplating that Emily isn't the type of person to accept anything but the honest truth. Having resigned myself to that fact, I sighed and softly said, "I know it's selfish, but I couldn't listen to any more mission trip stories. I want to be out there reaching the world, but I was stuck in a one-horse-town hardware store all summer."

Emily's response would have come across as patronizing if spoken by anyone else, but I knew her heart was pure and words sincere. "That one-horse-town needs to hear the Gospel too. You grew up there. You know those people better than anyone, and they know you. I can't think of anyone better equipped to minister to them."