Three things I've learned in the month of May--
1. Sometimes you just have to start. Forget perfection...or ideal...or completely and thoughtfully all planned out. Because waiting for that magic moment--for me, at least--means never. As in never actually clearing out the clutter and giving things away that other people could be using and enjoying. Or never writing this blog. Or never getting together with your girlfriends for lunch. Or never actually cooking and trying those recipes that you keep cutting out of the cooking magazines and stuffing in a drawer. Or never tackling that big, overwhelming project because it's so, well, big and overwhelming! Or never calling that couple you miss seeing so much and with whom you want to go out to dinner. Or never writing down those three things for which you are thankful each day. Or never memorizing God's Word (partly because you can never quite decide which passage to memorize. Geez.)
Thinking about starting it someday in the future doesn't count. Because have you noticed, that day never quite seems to arrive?)
Yep, for me "someday" or "sometime" or "eventually" means never. And I'm sick and tired of never. I just wanna start...even haltingly or tentatively. Anybody else?
So how about we just begin. Just take that first teeny tiny baby step. Write a couple of sentences--even if they're crummy. Make the phone call--leave a message if necessary. Choose one drawer to clean out--start small, but start. Choose a weekend and write it down on your calendar--then make plans to get away, even if it's just driving downtown for dinner at a jazzy new place. But here's the point: we need--excuse me, I need--to stop making excuses and just start. Which is why I'm finally writing this blog after being overcome for the past week or so by a deadly combination of inertia, laziness, and busyness...but mainly inertia and laziness. Let's face it--life is always busy. We have to make time for what matters. So yes people, sometimes you just have to grab yourself by the bootstraps and say, "Okay, just start. Just take one step to begin. You don't have to finish. You don't have do it perfectly or even well...you simply have to start to do it and leave the rest up to God."
2. Change and transition are difficult--really, really difficult. I need to be prepared for this so it doesn't catch me unawares and knock me tumbling over like a rogue gigantic wave in an otherwise calm ocean. And it's okay to cry over what's past and gone. But after having yourself a good cry or a brief pity party (I said brief--I need this reminder), then it's time to embrace the new God is bringing and trust that His plans and ways are always for our good and His glory. What good does it do us to wallow in sadness and discouragement? How does it help to worry over the unknown future? Zip. Nada. Zero.
Instead, these are the times we need to follow David's example and "strengthen ourselves in the Lord." That's my second lesson--though it's one I need to learn and relearn about every other day! Whether we feel like it or not, we need to open God's Word and listen to Him speak to us. We need to see His beauty and glory revealed in page after page. We need to preach the Truth of the Gospel to our hearts...and we need to do it over and over again.
3. And related to the above, this is surely my favorite bit of wisdom I learned this month, and it's a fabulous quote from John Piper: "Occasionally, weep deeply over the life you hoped would be. Grieve the losses. Then wash your face. Trust God. And embrace the life you have."
Wow, that pretty much says it all and that's the very best thing I learned in May. Thank you, John Piper--and thank You Lord for the gift of all the wise mentors and role models in our lives.
I don't know where you are right now, but I'm praying one or more of these life lessons from May might encourage and strengthen your heart. So start--preferably today. Strengthen yourself in the Lord. And weep the loss, wash your face, trust God, and embrace your life today.
To God be the glory.
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Thankful for the old; hopeful for the new
It's been a whirlwind of a week. After an incredibly busy four days of graduation dinners, dances, ceremonies, and a grand finale of Mother's Day/graduation lunch with all our family, Janie's finally an official Carolina grad. Thank You, Lord, thank You!
Just a few memories: One of my very favorite pics from the weekend--all the crew running to graduation since they were late (but they made it just in time!). Love, love, love these girls! Thank You, Lord.
Our dearest Aunt May May with our grad. So thankful for the priceless gift of brothers and sisters and family. Thank You, Lord.
Then there's the beloved Old Well in the background...with beloved brothers in the foreground! Thank You, Lord.
And all the fam for the grand finale of Mother's Day/Graduation lunch. Loved so much being with cousins and aunts and uncles and grandaddy! Thank You, Lord.
And then there was the UNC hospital emergency helicopter landing right at the end of the ceremony.
I looked at my husband and sister, and we all smiled (and maybe shed a tear). How fitting to end Janie's years at UNC. Just such an emergency helicopter had saved her life nearly five years earlier. I felt that rush of gratitude all over again--grateful for the nurses and doctors and emergency personnel who saved Janie and Tessa. Thank You, Lord, for all those who work incredibly hard every single day and night to bring healing and help to so many in desperate and dark places.
So much for which to be thankful. But here's the thing--we're overwhelmingly grateful to God...but I have to admit that I also spent a good portion of that Sunday evening weeping. Yes, crying my eyes out that it was all over and yet another one of our children was grown and saying good-bye to our home. Weeping that these wonderful girls at 501 North would all be leaving and moving all over the place. Lamenting that, once again, life was changing forever. Oh brother, how can you be so thankful and thrilled...but at the same time so broken-hearted?
I don't want all these girls to go their separate ways--I want to be able to continue to see them every week and enjoy their joy in all things Carolina. What incredible and beautiful friendships they have enjoyed--thank You, Lord--but I don't want it to end for any of us. Can't we just avoid all this change and transition and growing up and moving away stuff? Seriously? Sigh, guess not.
I reckon it's time to take my own advice--repeated ad nauseum to my children and friends--that's a quote from the great Dr. Seuss: "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." Yep, the crying's now stopped and the smiling's recommenced!
After all, there's not one blessed thing any of us can do to stop life's inevitable changes...and we surely can't--and mustn't--keep our children from growing up and moving out and away into God's glorious plan for their lives. Gotta open up the old tight-fisted heart and hands, let those children fly, and trust that--as my dear friend Kelly always says--"God's got this!" God's got our loved ones. God's got us. God's got the unknown future. And God's got this crazy old world in His nail-scarred, loving, powerful, and perfect hands.
"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." (Isa.43:18-19) God is indeed doing new things every single day for every single one of us. He's making new ways in the wilderness. H's crafting new streams in the howling desert.
He's working and moving and transforming and redeeming and reviving and resurrecting. And He's doing it today. On this new day that He has given us.
Let us trust Him and embrace the new--the new that He is doing and bringing. Let's choose to be thankful for the old, trustful for the present, and hopeful for the new.
To God be the glory.
Just a few memories: One of my very favorite pics from the weekend--all the crew running to graduation since they were late (but they made it just in time!). Love, love, love these girls! Thank You, Lord.
I looked at my husband and sister, and we all smiled (and maybe shed a tear). How fitting to end Janie's years at UNC. Just such an emergency helicopter had saved her life nearly five years earlier. I felt that rush of gratitude all over again--grateful for the nurses and doctors and emergency personnel who saved Janie and Tessa. Thank You, Lord, for all those who work incredibly hard every single day and night to bring healing and help to so many in desperate and dark places.
So much for which to be thankful. But here's the thing--we're overwhelmingly grateful to God...but I have to admit that I also spent a good portion of that Sunday evening weeping. Yes, crying my eyes out that it was all over and yet another one of our children was grown and saying good-bye to our home. Weeping that these wonderful girls at 501 North would all be leaving and moving all over the place. Lamenting that, once again, life was changing forever. Oh brother, how can you be so thankful and thrilled...but at the same time so broken-hearted?
I don't want all these girls to go their separate ways--I want to be able to continue to see them every week and enjoy their joy in all things Carolina. What incredible and beautiful friendships they have enjoyed--thank You, Lord--but I don't want it to end for any of us. Can't we just avoid all this change and transition and growing up and moving away stuff? Seriously? Sigh, guess not.
I reckon it's time to take my own advice--repeated ad nauseum to my children and friends--that's a quote from the great Dr. Seuss: "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." Yep, the crying's now stopped and the smiling's recommenced!
After all, there's not one blessed thing any of us can do to stop life's inevitable changes...and we surely can't--and mustn't--keep our children from growing up and moving out and away into God's glorious plan for their lives. Gotta open up the old tight-fisted heart and hands, let those children fly, and trust that--as my dear friend Kelly always says--"God's got this!" God's got our loved ones. God's got us. God's got the unknown future. And God's got this crazy old world in His nail-scarred, loving, powerful, and perfect hands.
"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." (Isa.43:18-19) God is indeed doing new things every single day for every single one of us. He's making new ways in the wilderness. H's crafting new streams in the howling desert.
He's working and moving and transforming and redeeming and reviving and resurrecting. And He's doing it today. On this new day that He has given us.
Let us trust Him and embrace the new--the new that He is doing and bringing. Let's choose to be thankful for the old, trustful for the present, and hopeful for the new.
To God be the glory.
Friday, May 12, 2017
Singing, not snarling
"They return at evening, snarling like dogs, and prowl about the city. They wander about for food and howl if not satisfied. But I will sing of Your strength, in the morning I will sing of Your love; for You are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble. You are my Strength, I sing praise to You; You, God, are my fortress, my God on whom I can rely." (Ps.59:14-17)
I read these words a few days ago from Tim Keller about this Psalm: "You can snarl--I will sing. In contrast to the snarling, howling dogs is the singing, praising psalmist. Though still under attack (the dogs are still howling), he praises God in his heart for being his fortress and refuge."
And that's exactly what we see in the Psalmist--he's under attack. Perhaps he's surrounded by vicious enemies. Life is hard and scary...but instead of snarling and howling, David is choosing singing and praising. Oh my, the power of praise. The gift of song. The joy of singing of God's goodness and greatness even in the very teeth of pain, doubt, and fear.
"You can snarl--I will sing."
I've experienced it over and over again in my life. Making the choice to praise and thank changes everything. Thanksgiving may or may not change our circumstances, but it always, always, always changes us. It's as if God takes even our feeble, weak praise and uses it to renew our minds, strengthen our hearts, and transform our attitudes.
Oh Father, help us to sing rather than snarl!
And on this damp, chilly day, I'm remembering and singing of God's goodness and grace in healing our Janie and allowing her to graduate from UNC this weekend. My husband keeps this picture on his cell phone to remind him of where we've been and what the Lord has done--
As he often says, "It has to matter." It's so easy to allow life's bumps and bruises to cause us to start snarling and howling, isn't it? But that's because we forget. We forget the infinite amount of God's extraordinary goodness to us all. We forget all that Christ did for us in saving and redeeming us. We forget all we have in Christ. We forget the joyous gifts of family and friends. We forget how many times God has come through for us...again and again and again. We forget His tender mercies that are new every morning. Oh my--every. single. morning. Forgive us for forgetting, Father.
But not a day goes by that I do not remember and rejoice in what my infinitely loving, powerful, and gracious Savior has done. Thank You, Lord, thank You. Thank You for saving those four precious girls over four years ago. Thank You for so many, many people praying for them. How I wish I could hug every one of those far flung prayer warriors! Thank You for sweet Tessa, and all that she and Janie endured together and all they've enjoyed together. Thank You for allowing them the opportunity to attend college and to graduate. We will never ever take that gift for granted.
Thank You, Lord, that in the hardest, darkest places, You are our refuge and strength, and we can sing Your praises even in the darkness. And thank You that You are a God of Resurrection. You do some of Your best work in a graveyard--in the graveyard of dead marriages, of dead hopes, of dead love, of dead strength. You, Jesus, are the Resurrection and the Life--real life, abundant life, joyful life, eternal life. Thank You that You do not treat us as our sins deserve.
I don't know where those who are reading this right now might be. Perhaps you are rejoicing in the light of great blessing--graduations, new babies, healing, happiness. But maybe you're struggling in the hard--sickness, uncertainty, unwanted changes, sorrow. Wherever you are, Jesus is there. And He will lead you through. You have an eternal, glorious hope ahead. And You have the Almighty Lord of heaven and earth who is Your strength, Your shield, Your refuge, Your song, Your joy. "For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace..." (Isa.55:12) Your God is with you and in you and for you.
So on this day and everyday, choose to sing. If others choose to snarl, you choose to sing. Your Savior is worthy. To God be the glory.
I read these words a few days ago from Tim Keller about this Psalm: "You can snarl--I will sing. In contrast to the snarling, howling dogs is the singing, praising psalmist. Though still under attack (the dogs are still howling), he praises God in his heart for being his fortress and refuge."
And that's exactly what we see in the Psalmist--he's under attack. Perhaps he's surrounded by vicious enemies. Life is hard and scary...but instead of snarling and howling, David is choosing singing and praising. Oh my, the power of praise. The gift of song. The joy of singing of God's goodness and greatness even in the very teeth of pain, doubt, and fear.
"You can snarl--I will sing."
I've experienced it over and over again in my life. Making the choice to praise and thank changes everything. Thanksgiving may or may not change our circumstances, but it always, always, always changes us. It's as if God takes even our feeble, weak praise and uses it to renew our minds, strengthen our hearts, and transform our attitudes.
Oh Father, help us to sing rather than snarl!
And on this damp, chilly day, I'm remembering and singing of God's goodness and grace in healing our Janie and allowing her to graduate from UNC this weekend. My husband keeps this picture on his cell phone to remind him of where we've been and what the Lord has done--
But not a day goes by that I do not remember and rejoice in what my infinitely loving, powerful, and gracious Savior has done. Thank You, Lord, thank You. Thank You for saving those four precious girls over four years ago. Thank You for so many, many people praying for them. How I wish I could hug every one of those far flung prayer warriors! Thank You for sweet Tessa, and all that she and Janie endured together and all they've enjoyed together. Thank You for allowing them the opportunity to attend college and to graduate. We will never ever take that gift for granted.
I don't know where those who are reading this right now might be. Perhaps you are rejoicing in the light of great blessing--graduations, new babies, healing, happiness. But maybe you're struggling in the hard--sickness, uncertainty, unwanted changes, sorrow. Wherever you are, Jesus is there. And He will lead you through. You have an eternal, glorious hope ahead. And You have the Almighty Lord of heaven and earth who is Your strength, Your shield, Your refuge, Your song, Your joy. "For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace..." (Isa.55:12) Your God is with you and in you and for you.
So on this day and everyday, choose to sing. If others choose to snarl, you choose to sing. Your Savior is worthy. To God be the glory.
Monday, May 8, 2017
A few lessons from a sweet lost dog...
It was 5 a. m. and raining cats and dogs as I drove in the predawn darkness to an early morning exercise class. Suddenly, a big, beautiful grey dog seemed to materialize in the blackness right in front of my headlights. I slammed to a halt, thankfully missing the dog, who stared at me with frightened eyes. I looked back in my rear view mirror, and there he was, in all that rain, galloping after my car, right down the middle of Lassiter Mill Road.
Stunned, I paused for a few seconds, thinking, "Well what on earth can I possibly do with some unknown dog at 5 in the morning...in the rain...in the darkness. After all, I've got a class to go to and friends to laugh with. Goodness, he could be rabid for all I know...and, uh, and..." It's so tempting to make excuses and to not get involved, isn't it?
But after a moment's hesitation, I knew doing nothing simply couldn't be an option. Selfishness comes so easily, so naturally to our prideful, sinful selves, doesn't it? Well, at least it surely does to yours truly. Oh mercy, Lord, save me, help me never to become one of those people who are too busy, or too self-important, or too preoccupied, or too plain old self-centered to care about the hurting and helpless, whether that sufferer is a fellow child of God or one of His animal creatures. "Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves." (Phil.2:3) Jesus--the Almighty Lord of the universe who willingly served and gave His life for all us sinners--is our ultimate and perfect example of that.
And by the way, when we refuse to get involved, when we look the other way (me? Guilty!), aren't we essentially demonstrating not only a lack of love and compassion, but also apathy? Now there's a word to despise. "Apathy" comes from two Latin words that mean "without" (a) and "passion" (pathos). Is that who we want to be--people living day-to-day without passion for others, without excitement and anticipation that God can and will use us today and everyday?
Yeah, all that to say, that selfish, "prone to wander Lord I feel it" me, thankfully heeded God's still small voice (because all too often I don't...but praise God for grace and second chances). I turned my car right around and headed back up Lassiter Mill to see if the dog was still there.
And he was. In fact, when he glimpsed my car, he began racing towards me again. I reckon my white highlander looked like salvation to him. I pulled up beside him, jumped out, opened the back door, and he jumped right in as if this had been his plan all along. We drive home in the pounding rain and inky darkness with him sitting up in the backseat like this was his car and I was his person. I had to smile.
But when we pulled in the driveway, I'm thinking, "What in thunderation am I gonna do now?" Nobody's awake. This dog is soaking wet. No tags on his collar. And, by the way, he won't get out of the car. Of course, I can't blame him; he's had a pretty stressful start to the day and he's got no idea who this strange person is who's trying to coax him out of the car with hot dogs (which, incidentally, he enjoyed immensely). I won't go into all the details, but my husband (who was less than thrilled that I woke him up at 5 to ask him what I should do!) came up with the brilliant idea to drive my car into our garage (which we never use so this had never occurred to me) and open the doors. Genius.
Sure enough, he (the dog, not my husband) eventually jumped out of the car and stood at our kitchen door, staring at Mr. Bingley...who seemed a bit confused. I started sending out a photo of the dog to several friends, asking if anybody recognized him. I even called a couple of them...yes, called them at about 5:15 a.m. I'm sure they were delighted to hear from me at that hour of the morning--ha!--but thankfully the Lord's blessed me with wonderful, grace-filled, understanding friends who didn't fuss at me but tried to help. Definitely grace in action.
When I texted my exercise buddies, they were all up, and let me tell you, they're a sharp bunch! Immediately one of them thought that she possibly recognized the dog, and lots of them had some great suggestions...which is impressive that early in the morning. Again, too many details, but suffice it to say that it took a while, but eventually we got this sweet old boy back to his home, and all ended happily. Well, except I missed the exercise class--small price to pay for making a difference...even if it was a very tiny difference.
I share all this, because God used this little incident to teach--or perhaps remind--me of of a few very simple little lessons...but they're lessons worth remembering (because, as I always say, we're mighty good forgetters). First, when God gives us an opportunity--even a seemingly very small one--to help or encourage someone else, let's do it. It's so easy to default to apathy or busyness or distraction or selfishness. But these interruptions can often be the Lord's appointments for us, allowing us to share His love and grace--even in a seemingly tiny, insignificant way--with some person or for some need that He's put in our paths. God's always working and moving in millions of ways that we do not see or know, and He delights to use us in often unexpected ways to bless, encourage, help, and strengthen others in all sorts of ways.
Yeah sure, we can't do everything...but we can do something. We can't change the world...but we can change the small part of the world where the Lord has placed us. We can't help everyone...but by golly, we can help someone. Speak the word of encouragement. Write the note of thanks. Listen to that lonely person. Hug that frustrated teenager. Thank that harried waiter. Offer the help. Give the money. Don't just think it: do it. Don't wait for the gigantic gesture...take the opportunity before you to love, help, or encourage even in the seemingly insignificant or small ways. Those "small" ways, after all, add up.
And second, it really does take a village. So be thankful for your village. I'm so thankful for my buddies who gave me great suggestions and advice that morning. Maybe it seemed a mighty little thing to them, but their encouragement sure didn't feel little to me! I was so grateful!
Aren't you thankful God didn't make us to be lone-ranger Christians? Oh my, how thankful I am for my priceless family, my wonderful friends, my brothers and sisters, my loving church family, my Bible study women, my dear exercise peeps. God has given us the irreplaceable gift of community and the joy of being part of a family and of the body of Christ. Let's don't take it for granted. Let's love, forgive, help, strengthen, encourage, and enjoy one another.
Here's how God's Word puts it in Hebrews 10:24-25: "And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near." In other words, people, keep loving, helping, encouraging, and meeting with your village. We have to daily--in the busyness and stress of life--fight passivity and isolation. Don't neglect the priceless gift of your village!
All that from one unexpected predawn meeting with a wet, scared dog! But God moves in mysterious ways, doesn't He? The thing is, He's always moving and working...so by His grace and for His glory, let's be a part of it.
To God be the glory.
Stunned, I paused for a few seconds, thinking, "Well what on earth can I possibly do with some unknown dog at 5 in the morning...in the rain...in the darkness. After all, I've got a class to go to and friends to laugh with. Goodness, he could be rabid for all I know...and, uh, and..." It's so tempting to make excuses and to not get involved, isn't it?
But after a moment's hesitation, I knew doing nothing simply couldn't be an option. Selfishness comes so easily, so naturally to our prideful, sinful selves, doesn't it? Well, at least it surely does to yours truly. Oh mercy, Lord, save me, help me never to become one of those people who are too busy, or too self-important, or too preoccupied, or too plain old self-centered to care about the hurting and helpless, whether that sufferer is a fellow child of God or one of His animal creatures. "Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves." (Phil.2:3) Jesus--the Almighty Lord of the universe who willingly served and gave His life for all us sinners--is our ultimate and perfect example of that.
And by the way, when we refuse to get involved, when we look the other way (me? Guilty!), aren't we essentially demonstrating not only a lack of love and compassion, but also apathy? Now there's a word to despise. "Apathy" comes from two Latin words that mean "without" (a) and "passion" (pathos). Is that who we want to be--people living day-to-day without passion for others, without excitement and anticipation that God can and will use us today and everyday?
Yeah, all that to say, that selfish, "prone to wander Lord I feel it" me, thankfully heeded God's still small voice (because all too often I don't...but praise God for grace and second chances). I turned my car right around and headed back up Lassiter Mill to see if the dog was still there.
And he was. In fact, when he glimpsed my car, he began racing towards me again. I reckon my white highlander looked like salvation to him. I pulled up beside him, jumped out, opened the back door, and he jumped right in as if this had been his plan all along. We drive home in the pounding rain and inky darkness with him sitting up in the backseat like this was his car and I was his person. I had to smile.
But when we pulled in the driveway, I'm thinking, "What in thunderation am I gonna do now?" Nobody's awake. This dog is soaking wet. No tags on his collar. And, by the way, he won't get out of the car. Of course, I can't blame him; he's had a pretty stressful start to the day and he's got no idea who this strange person is who's trying to coax him out of the car with hot dogs (which, incidentally, he enjoyed immensely). I won't go into all the details, but my husband (who was less than thrilled that I woke him up at 5 to ask him what I should do!) came up with the brilliant idea to drive my car into our garage (which we never use so this had never occurred to me) and open the doors. Genius.
Sure enough, he (the dog, not my husband) eventually jumped out of the car and stood at our kitchen door, staring at Mr. Bingley...who seemed a bit confused. I started sending out a photo of the dog to several friends, asking if anybody recognized him. I even called a couple of them...yes, called them at about 5:15 a.m. I'm sure they were delighted to hear from me at that hour of the morning--ha!--but thankfully the Lord's blessed me with wonderful, grace-filled, understanding friends who didn't fuss at me but tried to help. Definitely grace in action.
When I texted my exercise buddies, they were all up, and let me tell you, they're a sharp bunch! Immediately one of them thought that she possibly recognized the dog, and lots of them had some great suggestions...which is impressive that early in the morning. Again, too many details, but suffice it to say that it took a while, but eventually we got this sweet old boy back to his home, and all ended happily. Well, except I missed the exercise class--small price to pay for making a difference...even if it was a very tiny difference.
I share all this, because God used this little incident to teach--or perhaps remind--me of of a few very simple little lessons...but they're lessons worth remembering (because, as I always say, we're mighty good forgetters). First, when God gives us an opportunity--even a seemingly very small one--to help or encourage someone else, let's do it. It's so easy to default to apathy or busyness or distraction or selfishness. But these interruptions can often be the Lord's appointments for us, allowing us to share His love and grace--even in a seemingly tiny, insignificant way--with some person or for some need that He's put in our paths. God's always working and moving in millions of ways that we do not see or know, and He delights to use us in often unexpected ways to bless, encourage, help, and strengthen others in all sorts of ways.
Yeah sure, we can't do everything...but we can do something. We can't change the world...but we can change the small part of the world where the Lord has placed us. We can't help everyone...but by golly, we can help someone. Speak the word of encouragement. Write the note of thanks. Listen to that lonely person. Hug that frustrated teenager. Thank that harried waiter. Offer the help. Give the money. Don't just think it: do it. Don't wait for the gigantic gesture...take the opportunity before you to love, help, or encourage even in the seemingly insignificant or small ways. Those "small" ways, after all, add up.
And second, it really does take a village. So be thankful for your village. I'm so thankful for my buddies who gave me great suggestions and advice that morning. Maybe it seemed a mighty little thing to them, but their encouragement sure didn't feel little to me! I was so grateful!
Aren't you thankful God didn't make us to be lone-ranger Christians? Oh my, how thankful I am for my priceless family, my wonderful friends, my brothers and sisters, my loving church family, my Bible study women, my dear exercise peeps. God has given us the irreplaceable gift of community and the joy of being part of a family and of the body of Christ. Let's don't take it for granted. Let's love, forgive, help, strengthen, encourage, and enjoy one another.
Here's how God's Word puts it in Hebrews 10:24-25: "And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near." In other words, people, keep loving, helping, encouraging, and meeting with your village. We have to daily--in the busyness and stress of life--fight passivity and isolation. Don't neglect the priceless gift of your village!
All that from one unexpected predawn meeting with a wet, scared dog! But God moves in mysterious ways, doesn't He? The thing is, He's always moving and working...so by His grace and for His glory, let's be a part of it.
To God be the glory.
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