My day began with tea in hand, sitting by the fire in my favorite chair. Early enough for the darkness outside to enrich the contrast of candles flickering, giving a sense of peace and calm. The Lego remnants still occupying the dining room table revealing our visit with our grandchildren later this afternoon. Too tired to put them away, here I sit, ending my day the same way it began. Murphy curled up in front of the fireplace, instrumental music bringing a melody into our home, while I sip my camomile tea and watch the glow of the candles once again.
I am tired, a headache lingers, but life is full with the richness of relationships. Between the bookends of my day, I arose to prepare for church this morning, never fully knowing what the Lord has planned, or how He wants to touch those who come to worship Him. But I pray, I surrender my plans, and tell Him how much I need Him. Never fully confident in what I’ve prepared but confident in Him, and the authority of His Word to accomplish what He desires.
I think back upon the many interactions I had with individuals. The smiles, the deep needs shared. The laughs from the hospitality team coming from the foyer during pre-service prayer. The shoulder touches, the words of encouragement that flowed through conversations. The value of each other celebrated. Enjoying the giftedness of musicians who offer their best to God in worship. Trying to put together some new tables for the lobby with those who lingered, long after the others were gone. It was good someone could figure out the instructions!
We are all so different, so unique. I love that. A gentleman helps one of our dear elderly women walk out to her car. She is a sweet soul. A few years ago, at the passing of her husband, I left our staff meeting to go be with her. I found her sitting in the bathroom of his room, after they had wheeled him out. All alone, staring at the floor. I grabbed a chair, pulled it in beside her, and sat down. I’m not even sure why I didn’t suggest we come out of the bathroom, but the fact that we were occupying this space, with handrails and a toilet soon faded away as she proceeded to tell me much of her life story. It wreaked me. I later got in the car and wept uncontrollably. In that moment I was not weeping for the immediate loss of her husband. I was weeping for all the years that had gone before her. The heartbreak, the pain, the loss. All of which could consume and derail a life from the path of joy. Yet she knows joy, because she knows Christ. I wondered after all she’s been through, how could she be so kind and caring, not carrying an ounce of bitterness or any sense of being a victim. She has a profound trust in God. A resilient faith which inspires me. She has left a mark on my soul and I am richer because of her.
I think of the verse in Scripture in Hebrews 10:25 that says, “Do not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encourage one another—all the more as you see the day approaching.”
I end my day blessed, tired, but deeply satisfied because of the lives I was able to interact with today. The story of your life may be so familiar to you, that you don’t think anyone else would be interested. But there are things you’ve been through, truths you’ve discovered along the bumpy road. Graces you’ve received in difficult times, that could, and would, inspire another soul. In an age of isolation, may we return to meeting together, sharing a laugh and professing and declaring the hope that is found in Jesus Christ. You matter, your valuable, and when the darkness threatens to prevail, your presence, your story, could be like a light that warms a room, and brings comfort to a thirsty soul.