This morning I went out to my car to get something (okay, okay, my kids left their hairbrush in the car and couldn't find it themselves). As I bent over, rummaging through the detritus of accumulated child life in the back seat, a strange male voice floated over to me and said good morning.
I stood up and saw a man who had apparently just arrived from attending church in the 1950s. Next to him was a lady wearing a lovely floral dress to compliment his suit. He began, as I recall, by asking me if I had my Saturday chores all planned out. I told him we had a new baby and therefore wouldn't be doing chores. We exchanged baby related pleasantries.
I turned back to the car and bid them a good morning, and the man called for my attention once more so that he could show me a copy of the Watchtower, which would guide me through my confusion about the Bible by giving me a reading plan. Then he showed me how you could cut it out along the dotted lines. I liked how he assumed that I both wanted to read the Bible and also that I found it intimidating and difficult.
I told him that I didn't need his magazine, but thanks. He asked, "Are you a Bible reader yourself?" I told him yes. He asked if I had a special Bible verse for being a father. I wasn't sure what he meant. He said a special verse I went to as a father. I scratched my head and told him that so far as I knew they were all equally special and I hadn't really singled any out for special duty to me as a father. He quickly agreed and said good-bye.
I went out a minute later and they had moved on to our Russian neighbors, who never get up that early in the morning. At this time of the morning the father usually answers the door in his shorts. Then they went to the next neighbor down. He's deaf, and they seemed discouraged when no one answered. They got in their car (which, strangely, had two more JWs inside) and left the neighborhood.
I was a little disappointed that I didn't have the energy to engage in a lively conversation with them. Oh well. I'm sure they'll be back.