Every Sunday morning at the 10 o'clock service, the gentleman who sits in the pew in front of me turns around and gives me a peppermint candy wrapped in cellophane.
For 3 years, the same routine: he waits until the beginning of the announcements, then turns around while rummaging with his fingers in his shirt pocket, smiles and offers the candy. I smile and nod shyly, then take it with a quiet "thank you"
(If I wait until after the first hymn to unwrap and savor the sweetness, I have found it will last clear through to the benediction.)
At a potluck dinner his wife once told me that whenever they are getting dressed for church, he never forgets to tuck into his pocket a piece of candy "for the pastor's wife."
If friendship had a flavor, I believe it would taste of peppermint.
