Small Town Grace?

Walking up to a stranger at a gathering and starting a conversation takes a little psychic effort for a lot of us.

Yesterday, I saw that done repeatedly as if it were as effortless as checking email.

I was at a funeral at a Baptist Church in the little town of Buies Creek in eastern North Carolina. As I paused in the narthex after the service, and later at the lunch in an assembly room, people one after another came up to me and introduced themselves, explained how they knew the family, how they were related, and so on.

They did it so gracefully that I began to develop a theory: that they were all members of the congregation and this was their Sunday morning practice with visitors. That's true in churches I've attended, but I've never been the one to go over and speak to the stranger. Here the greeting habit seemed culture-wide.

It was very nice. I felt welcomed and engaged; the greetings turned easily into interesting brief conversations. These encounters did not seem dutiful. Each chat seemed motivated by genuine interest and good nature. (This doesn't happen to me everywhere I go, and I did not spark it by wearing a funny hat.)

It made me feel like leaving some walls down and seeing what happens.



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