The Diminutive Type

We need more of Mrs. Gracen.

Mrs. Gracen was five feet tall and 80 years old, but full of energy and laughs. She found humor in everything. Fortunately for those around her, she was fond of poking fun at herself. She wasn’t stuffy and rigid as some of her contemporaries were. Mrs. Gracen just liked living life.

In the foyer after church one Autumn morning, a tall man, Jacob, pulled down his overcoat from the hanger and swung it around behind him and put his arms through, not realizing Mrs. Gracen was directly behind him. The coat never touched his back and he heard, “Hey hey hey, who turned out the lights?”

In his zeal to throw on the coat, he had covered Mrs. Gracen entirely so she was in pitch black darkness.

“I don’t care who you are,” Mrs. Gracen said. “I’ll fight ya but I’ll have to see ya first.”

When Jacob realized his mistake, he pulled the coat off the lady and she had her fists in fighting position with a huge grin on her face.

No apologies were necessary and Mrs. Gracen would’ve waved it off anyhow.