The Strongman and the Flamingo
The Strongman and the Flamingo
The autumn air in Maple Lane was crisp, but the backyard of the parsonage was currently a cloud of steam and tactical confusion.
Chief Clara Wren, usually seen in a crisp uniform and an even crisper scowl, was standing on the edge of Pastor Ben Eden’s deck. She was currently holding a giant inflatable flamingo, while Ben—Maple Lane’s resident "Stalwart Strongman"—was submerged up to his shoulders in the hot tub, trying to look "spontaneous" while wearing his Sunday-best spectacles.
"Ben, stop looking like you’re waiting for a SWAT breach," Clara barked, adjusting her grip on the flamingo. "You’re supposed to be 'approachable.' Give me 'relaxed shepherd,' not 'sentinel of the north.'"
"I am relaxed, Clara," Ben rumbled, his voice like grinding gravel. "But I’m also 240 pounds in a fiberglass tub. The physics of this feel undignified."
"Content is king, Ben! The town thinks you’re a mountain that only speaks in scripture. We need the ‘Heart of the Highlands’ to come out. Now, hold this tray of lemonade and look at the flamingo like it’s a long-lost parishioner."
"Is the flamingo necessary?"
"The flamingo is the brand, Ben. It says, 'I have a sense of humor.'"
Just as Clara leaned over to get the "perfect angle" with her phone, the gate creaked open. Pastor Evelyn, carrying a stack of hymnals and a very confused expression, stopped dead in her tracks.
She looked at Clara (armed with a plastic bird), then at Ben (marinated in steam and lemonade), and finally at the ring light set up next to the grill.
"I see," Evelyn said, her voice dry as parchment. "I was going to ask about the budget meeting, but I see we’ve moved into... lifestyle photography?"
Ben sighed, a small ripple of bubbles following the sound. "Clara says I lack 'digital warmth.' Apparently, being a reliable pillar of the community is out; being a 'Tub-Talker' is in."
Evelyn walked over, peering at the phone screen. "You look like you’re being held hostage by a tropical bird, Ben."
"See!" Ben pointed a wet finger at Clara. "I told you."
"Nonsense," Clara countered. "He’s a strongman! If people see the strongman can laugh in a hot tub, they’ll feel safe coming to him with their problems. It’s rapport, Evelyn. It’s strategy."
Evelyn smiled, setting the hymnals down. She looked at Ben—the man who had spent the last decade quietly fixing every broken fence and broken heart in Maple Lane without ever asking for a "like" or a "follow."
"Strategy is fine, Clara," Evelyn said gently. "But Ben’s heart isn't in the hot tub. It’s in the calloused hands he uses to help the widow down the street and the quiet way he listens when no one is watching. You can post the photo, but Maple Lane knows the truth."
She winked at Ben. "Although, the flamingo does bring out your eyes."
The Devotional Moment
Scripture: “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature... For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’” — 1 Samuel 16:7
Reflection:
In a world of "content," we often feel the pressure to perform our joy or curate our "approachability." We think that if we don't show the world we are "real," they won't believe we are "good." But true rapport isn't built in the steam of a hot tub or the perfect lighting of a social media post. It is built in the quiet, unphotographed moments of service. You don't have to prove your heart to the world; your fruit will speak for itself.
A Thought for the Day:
Are you spending more time polishing your image or nourishing your character? The right people will see your heart, even without the inflatable flamingo.
The morning after "The Flamingo Incident," the peace of Maple Lane was shattered by the rhythmic ping of several hundred smartphones. By the time the breakfast rush hit Marge’s Diner, the photo was no longer a digital post—it was a local event.
The Scene at Marge’s Diner
Marge leaned over the counter, squinting at her screen. "Well, I’ll be. Is that Ben Eden in a whirlpool, or has the Loch Ness Monster finally moved inland?"
The bell above the door chimed, and a chorus of chuckles erupted from the corner booth where the "Morning Watch"—a group of retired town elders—sat with their coffee.
"He looks like he’s trying to baptize that plastic bird," chuckled Silas, the town’s former postman. "I always knew Ben was a man of the water, but I figured it’d involve a fishing pole and a quiet lake, not a lavender-scented soak."
"It says here he’s 'Building Bridges through Authenticity,'" read Mrs. Gable, peering through her bifocals. "And look! He’s used a #hashtag. #BenInTheBin? No, #BenInTheBath. Oh dear, Clara Wren must have written this. Ben doesn’t know a hashtag from a post-hole digger."
The Man of the Hour Arrives
The diner door opened again, and a heavy silence—the kind usually reserved for a funeral or a surprise inspection—fell over the room. Ben Eden stepped in, his shoulders hunched slightly as if trying to minimize his 6'4" frame. He was wearing his usual flannel shirt, but he looked like he’d slept in a wind tunnel.
"Morning, Ben," Marge said, her voice twitching with a suppressed grin. "Can I get you a coffee? Or would you prefer a coconut water and a selfie?"
Ben let out a sigh that sounded like a tire losing air. "I see the Chief’s 'strategy' has reached the masses."
"Ben, son," Silas called out from the booth. "I’ve known you twenty years. You’re a stalwart man. You’re the guy we call when a tree falls on the garage. Why on earth are you posing with a pink bird?"
Ben sat at the counter, rubbing his temples. "Clara says I’m 'unapproachable.' She says the young families moving in from the city want a pastor who’s... what was the word? 'Vibe-adjacent'?"
"You’re about as 'vibe-adjacent' as a granite cliff," Marge laughed, sliding a mug of black coffee toward him.
The "Influencer" Impact
The door swung open once more, and a young couple—newcomers who had just moved into the old Miller estate—walked in. They spotted Ben and whispered to each other. To everyone’s surprise, they didn’t laugh. They walked straight up to him.
"Pastor Ben?" the young woman asked, holding her phone. "We saw your post. Honestly, we were a little intimidated to come to the church—you look so... serious in the flyers. But seeing you laughing with that flamingo? It made us think you might actually have a sense of humor about life."
Ben blinked, his "strongman" exterior cracking for a second. "I... well. The flamingo was Clara's idea. But I do enjoy a good laugh. Usually at my own expense, it seems."
"We’ll see you Sunday," the husband said with a smile.
As they walked away, Ben looked at his coffee, then at the grinning faces of his old friends. "I suppose if it takes a plastic bird to get them through the door, I can survive a little public humiliation."
The Maple Lane Devotional: Part 2
Scripture: “To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some.” — 1 Corinthians 9:22
Reflection:
Ben Eden learned a hard lesson in the diner: people are often afraid of the "Strongman." While Ben valued his reputation as a quiet, steady pillar, that very strength can sometimes look like a wall to those who feel broken. Sometimes, we have to let down our guard—or even look a little ridiculous—to show people that there is a bridge where they thought there was only a barrier. Authenticity isn't about the perfect photo; it's about being willing to be seen, flamingo and all.
A Thought for the Day:
Is your "professionalism" or "strength" keeping people at arm’s length? What’s one way you can show someone today that you’re human, too?
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