There was a season in my life, which all people can experience, where I felt a deep sense of depression.   We had just experienced another move to the northwest.   Nothing was wrong really, but I was experiencing a type of grieving.   When you move from one area of the country to another, it involves more than just packing boxes and transporting your possessions to a new locale.  You are leaving the “known” for the “unknown.”   You are leaving well-established friendships.  It’s so like transplanting greenery in your garden.   After a plant is exposed and deposited into new soil, it looks droopy and out of sorts for several months.   Well, that was my condition!

This particular day was rainy and very overcast.  The sky resembled a collage of grey cloudy gloom.   Even having more lights on in our home didn’t help.  So, I thought some fresh air might assist raising me to a higher emotional altitude.

I missed so many people, and the many loving responsibilities in ministry I had with others.   Now, I was alone this day.  My husband was off to work.  I headed out the door with sweater and rain gear. 

I didn’t even feel like talking, but the Lord knows our “thoughts” just as clear as our spoken words.    On this walk I was reminiscing in my mind about the many changes and adjustments my husband and I were facing because of this move.

There was a cute little cul-de-sac that I would often venture to in my previous walks.   The leaves it seemed were adorning themselves in a crayon of colors.  

I had just turned the corner into this secluded area and I noticed a large pile of freshly cut grass.    Something caught my attention.  I went over and there on top of the freshly cut grass were two long stem red roses.   These were “freshly cut” roses. 

 I couldn’t believe it.   I glanced around thinking someone has just laid these roses on top of all the grass clippings for a moment and forgot to pick them back up.   I waited around and no one appeared.   This pile of grass clippings was not in a well-traveled location.  It was odd.

Then, as God would have it, He brought to my mind all that I had been thinking about and the sadness I had in missing people, etc.  My heart just leapt for joy as the thought was presented to me, deep within my heart, “these were roses from God.”  He knew just how to touch my heart and my life on that walk to remind me that He cared, and that He knew all about this transition.

I slowly leaned over to pick up the two roses and I hurried home.  One rose I kept in a vase.   The other rose I pressed and placed it behind glass which was in a delicate gold frame.   The date was November 24, 2005.    This gift brought a “tender anticipation” of hope that good things were ahead, and to leave God to order the events of the coming year.

Four and a half months later I had the “joy of my life” when my Mother, who needed daily care, came to live out her remaining years with us in our home.  

I’m grateful God gave me the presence of mind to “seal the rose under glass” as a vivid reminder of his tender and compassionate care through the stresses and transitions in our lives.   Each time I look at this framed rose, my heart goes back to the time when God’s love came near….near enough to hold in my hand.

You might want to sit down and get real comfortable when reading this short story.   And before you ask, “Yes, this is a true story.”   My husband might not be keen on me admitting that, but I must.

My husband and I were only married a little over three years.  We were still getting to know each other’s habits, likes and dislikes.   My husband’s job took us to sunny Florida for a time.  We made this move in the wrong month.   I say that because August is the HOTTEST month of the year in that area of the United States.

Humidity levels ranged from 100 down to 95%.   Everything done outside at that time of year was accomplished at a pace called slow.   Even if you just stood still, your body continued to perspire.   It’s been said that men perspire, and women glow.   Well, in Florida, if that phrase were true, women would be glowing  almost to a  “melting” position.

We had survived the adjustment of the heat during the summer and it was now the end of October and one could wear slacks in the evening.   I vividly remember my husband and I went for a stroll around the block early in the evening.   We had just rounded the corner, with our house in sight and it became obvious to my husband that he wasn’t travelling alone.  He immediately began leaping and yelling and shaking in his pants.   What had happened was that a small lizard had climbed inside his pants leg for a ride around the block.   The little critter didn’t take up much room and he must have been hot as well as he wanted “out.”

He wasted no time in removing his belt and began lowering his slacks to provide an immediate “evacuation plan” for his new little friend.   All I could do was laugh; but with sympathy too, I might add.  It was getting dark outside so the neighbors never observed the discovery.

We waited until late October to reappear on our neighborhood streets for evening walks.   I kept thinking of ways we could meet our neighbors.   In that it was a cooler month, it dawned on me that we could dress up for Halloween and meet them that way.   We don’t celebrate that event, but it did allow us a “unique opportunity” to introduce ourselves to the neighborhood.

Here is where you’re not going to believe what happened next.  We weren’t flushed with financial funds, so I gathered a few articles of our clothing, and made some adjustments in the clothing design department.   Then I invited my husband to join me at our bathroom sink.  He took a seat and I, shall I say, “re-constructed his appearance.”   Later, I did the same for myself.

Yes…………….we went to visit all the neighbors as Raggedy Ann and Andy!    The neighbors laughed at our coming and going.  We had a hilarious time that evening going from door to door.   So if you’re having a struggle in getting to know your neighbors, I might suggest that you dress up a little and make an appearance.   Believe me, they’ll remember you forever!

Another move transpired when we moved from Arizona to British Columbia, Canada.   We were coming out of an arid area of the United States to the lush northwest where there is an abundance of “liquid sunshine.”  We hadn’t lived in this area of Canada for a number of years, but circumstances orchestrated a return to the lovely province of British Columbia.

We were attending a church and reconnecting with a number of people we met there some years before.   This particular Sunday morning it was announced that a man, in our congregation, had suffered a critical heart attack.

This couple was well known in the church and had a good many friendships they had developed over the years.  In our awareness of his condition, we, along with many others, were praying for this man and his dear wife.

Our friend had a quadruple by-pass heart surgery and made it through.  He was now in the long process of recovery.   We had heard that there were many people visiting him after he returned home from the hospital.   My husband and I were cautious about visiting them as we knew that many of their friends were visiting him on a regular basis, and we wanted to be sensitive to his need of rest and recovery. 

In people’s loving attempt to reach out, they can often forget that the person who is convalescing needs an abundant amount of rest; not to mention, the care-givers need to rest as well.  This couple is socially vibrant and they love to have people around.   That’s wonderful when you are physically up to it, but visitors coming without prearranged boundaries in place, can be overwhelming and add to the stress of the patient and the one giving the care.

Several weeks had passed, and his wife was writing beautiful emails documenting his progress so that the large circle of friends were kept up-to-date on his condition.

About six weeks had passed, and one Sunday his wife made a quiet appearance at church.   This couple and ourselves would sit in the same general area each week.   We were delighted to have a brief moment with her after the service.   We shared with her that we were avoiding coming over for a visit as we wanted to be sensitive to their need of rest.    Her smile broke into words:   “Come on over now.”  We were fumbling in how to respond, but her invitation was so compelling, we agreed.  But we would only stay 30 minutes, no more.

We entered their family room where her husband was resting on the sofa delicately covered up with a nice blanket.   We entered his presence indicating, we just wanted to say hello and let him know we cared about him.

He wasn’t up to a long visit, but in the thirty or so minutes of being together, we hoped our presence would lift his spirits.  Both he and his wife love having people in their home, and so to restrict his visits was a very difficult endeavor.

As we listened to him share about his pain and where he was uncomfortable, my inner antennas went right into gear.  I am not a physician or a nurse, but I do know have some experience in relieving tension through neck, back and arm massages.   At this moment, I just listened to my friend share his concerns.

My first thoughts were that I only wish I knew this couple well enough to offer to come a couple times a week and give this man a gentle massage treatment.  I was bursting at my inner seams to do this, but I felt restrained and just kept quiet. 

About a week later, one morning I phoned to inquire what his dietary needs could include.  I had in mind to make them a meal and bring it over.  After she shared a few things, I told her that she should expect a dinner delivery at 5 o’clock that same evening.  She laughed and said it wasn’t necessary, but I paid no attention to her comment and told her dinner was in the making.

In the short journey to their home, I had such joy in this meals-on-wheels expedition.   I entered the family room to say hello to the patient.  He seemed delighted to have visitors, but again he kept making a comment about his stiffness and unable to relax in a number of places in his upper body.   I think I prayed with him and then left them to enjoy some roast chicken and trimmings.

A few days later I just phoned to see when I could just drop over and collect my plates from the dinner I brought days earlier.  My intention was to just inquire about a good time for me to drop by their home; but I was soon to discover that “soon” was now and would be more than appropriate.

The tone of voice of this man’s wife was filled with stress, sadness, and a real sense of being overwhelmed.  I was only too familiar with the sound of a person’s state in being “overwhelmed” state.  Her tears were my invitation.    I told her I’d be over in a few hours with another dinner and that she was not to refuse my offer.   

“Lord, how can I help her?   How can I help them both?”   I knew deeply and instinctly that I was prompted to make that phone call. “Lord, show me what is needed.” 

After this conversation, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Lord was opening doors of opportunity with this dear couple; however, at this point, had no idea of the type of opportunity that would emerge

After showing up with something for them to eat later in the day, I soon realized that this woman needed more than dinner that night.   This health situation of her husband and the new responsibilities was weighing heavily on her own heart and physique.  She was lovingly endeavoring to do too much.  She needed something, and soon. 

My arrival couldn’t have been more welcomed.  It was a bright sunny day…..and she suggested we sit outside for a while.   She began to share her heart.  During the course of our conversation, I felt free to share with her some of the things I had learned from being a care-giver myself, just a few years earlier.

To honor her, our conversation will be kept private; but suffice it to say that she needed a listening heart, personal encouragement, and a rest as well.   But this would need to be a self-imposed rest.

We talked lovingly about boundaries that she would need to set for their “recovery lifestyle” so that she and her husband could still enjoy others, but with loving limits.  

After our talk I offered to give her a massage with olive oil.  This simple little massage left her like a soft down pillow the lounge chair on their patio.  Seeing that our conversation was dwindling, I went in to see her husband.  He had made his own observation of the massage treatment on the back patio area and he wanted to join us in the experience.

He was still complaining (and rightfully so) about his stiffness and the terrible tightness in his shoulder.   We positioned him comfortably in the chair with feet up and ready for a massage.  

During the next 45 minutes he made few comments.  But in listening to the moans and awwws from both he and his wife; they were both so relaxed just like two limp noodles in their lawn chairs.    

How exciting this was to me to be allowed not only into their home, and hearts, but now, with their keen invitation, to do what I had wanted to do weeks ago.

I was about to burst with enthusiasm at this next idea, but I asked them both if this “soothing massage” would be something they’d enjoy twice a week for a while?    Are you kidding?   There was an immediate enthusiastic response from them both.

Prior to this man’s health challenge, I found myself floundering a bit after our move to this new area.   I asked the Lord if He would open up some kind of opportunity where He could use me.   The visit that day with this couple was my answer.

What a joy and privilege of getting to know this couple in a wonderful new and transparent way.   We were never meant to walk through trials alone.   And I couldn’t be more grateful to this couple for allowing me the privilege of serving and loving and joining them in this most meaningful way to them through this difficult journey.   The Lord wove our hearts together unlike never before.

This couple is doing marvelously well now, and our friend’s heart is right on course…..God’s course for His life.    I was so grateful and privileged to be a small part of God’s touch of encouragement and healing in their lives at such a crucial season.  

God loves to use people in our lives that will love, care, listen and share with us.   Walking through difficult seasons with others can be painful, for sure, but we’re to bear each other’s burdens, lighting the load if you will.   And there’s no greater bond on this earth.

Let’s keep our eyes and ears open to the pain and challenges others face.  Who knows that God might want to use us to join them in their journey.

You know you never know how your day will unfold when you rise in the morning.   God has an agenda for His children (those who have given their lives over to Him), and we have no idea of how we’re to participate in His plans.  But He has an incredible way of “inviting us” to join Him in what He is up to.   More often than not, He uses people to bring opportunities into our walk in life.

The phone rang this particular morning with a friendly voice at the other end.  It didn’t take him long to identify the purpose for his call.   The caller was involved with caring for his long-time Sunday school teacher.   This man was handling the affairs of a woman who had mentored him as a young boy, through teaching him in Sunday school.

I felt it strange that he would phone me, because although my husband and he were work associates at one time and I was surprised that he wanted to talk with me as we really were not connected at all.

His need became clear as he went into the details about his friend and her current need.   She was 95 years of age at the time and because of her specifics needs she had to be relocated to our town, and she was being moved away from the facility near this care-giver and his wife to our town some 40 miles away.

This couple loved this woman and had taken care of supervising her financial needs and would regularly visit her weekly.  They were very caring and tender towards her.   But now that she would be residing in a care facility several miles away, it wasn’t going to be convenient to just drop in for a visit.   His concern is that she was now alone, and knew no one in this new location.

He wasn’t phoning to ask me to visit her.  He simply wanted to know if we had any program at the church where we were on staff, where people would visit those who were resident in assisted living facilities.  These ministries are often referred to as the “Stephen Ministries.”

I listened intently to what he shared with me about this woman and what her need would be for a weekly companion visit.   We did have this ministry at the church, but I felt that I wanted to hear and know more about this “loved lady” in order to be able to share more carefully the details of her need with someone who was involved in this outreach. 

After talking about the various areas describing her personality, her interests and background, I began to think aloud with him.   Sometimes it’s very difficult to connect people together without a first-hand, in person encounter with them.

Our conversation was so pleasant and inviting, the idea came to me that I needed to meet this woman so I would have a better idea of who the Lord would have to connect with her.

This friend told me the address of the facility, her name and room number.   Turns out, she lived only about 3 miles from our home.  I shared with my friend that I thought it would be helpful for me to visit her and access how the connection would be with “someone else.”

Several days later I drove over to have my first visit.   Sometimes I’m at a loss for words, but a smile and a hello is a great start.   When I arrived at her room and walked in, she was lying in her bed.  She seemed fully awake at the time. 

I introduced myself, and said that we had a “common friend” who had called me to share that she was new in the area.   The conversation with her was one-sided……….as I did all the talking.   I didn’t know for sure if her lack of speaking was due to a stroke, or if it was the medication.  She would only mumble in response to my words.

It’s so wonderful that the Lord knows just how to orchestrate events and present ideas to us that may seem out of the ordinary. For this first visit, the idea came to me to bring along our 7 pound Pomeranian.   I thought that might ease the conversation as most people enjoy little dogs.   Our little dog was very calm and well-behaved, and remained in my arms.

It took a moment or two for this lady, Marie, to notice that I had something furry in my arms.  I asked her if she liked little dogs.  All she could do was “mumble.”   Before I knew it I was bending over and placing the dog next to her in her bed.  Immediately this woman came alive!

As I think about it now, it was a risky venture, but worth the risk.

A few minutes later I lifted the dog away and just continued to try and make a one-way conversation with her.   She began to smile and I knew I was on safe territory.  

Not long after that I told her that I would stop in again next week.  She continued to “mumble incoherently.”  But somehow I understood that my presence was accepted. 

All the time I was there I was thinking to myself, who do I know that would be just the “right person” to befriend this lady on a regular basis and become a part of her life.  

After about 20 minutes I felt it was time for me to leave. 

No, I never referred her to the ministry.   She was to become “my new friend.”    When I phoned the man who called me about this woman’s need, I told him that I felt the Lord had located someone to visit this lady.  It was to be me.

Each week I would visit, and it seemed that I was beginning to learn how to have a complete conversation with her, even without her saying a word.  I remember thinking that I’ll just talk with her as though she understood me. 

It was now the beginning of summer, and each time I visited, she would either be in bed or would be sitting in her wheelchair watching television.   One day I took her blanket off the bed, wrapped it around her legs and off we went…..”outside.”    I would take her around the neighborhood in her wheelchair.   She seemed to just “glow” during this outing.

One time I took our little dog with me on this neighborhood tour and placed her in Marie’s lap as she was sitting in her wheelchair, and off we went down the street.   Then the “miracle” happened.   I heard her beginning to speak.   I could hardly believe my ears.   No, she wasn’t speaking to me.   She was speaking to our little dog as she gently held and petted the dog during the entire outing.

Each week her words became more understandable.   Once she began to speak, she never stopped.   She never went back to mumbling.

This relationship went on for about 3 years.  Each week I would come with goodies to eat, or bring my little dog for special cuddles and walks in the neighborhood.   

I remember one time when I went to visit “Miss Marie” she was in the social room.  Everyone was sitting around playing a word game.   I entered the room with our little 7 pound Pomeranian, Abby.    Miss Marie perked up immediately and held out her hands to hold our little dog.    What I didn’t expect was that ten other people in the circle wanted to hold this furry friend as well.   The visit was longer this week, but it was worth every furry moment.

The Lord was about to move us to a northern state.  I missed my little friend so very much.   Within that year, I believe, she was moved back to an area where this couple would be close at hand for regular visits.

I would like to close with a poignant thought that I had one day as I entered the assisted living facility.   My parents lived some 2200 miles away and I had always wondered if, when they needed help in their senior years, who would be there to help them.   I lived so far away from them; and wondered why the Lord was allowing me to befriend Marie when I was so concerned about how my own parents would be cared for.

To my surprise, the Lord would be arranging that for me about 10 months later.   Yes, I became privileged to care for my Dad and to later have my Mom in my home, full-time for almost three years.

This Miss Marie was a treasure to me.   And one day, I’ll get to have a wonderful reunion with her in heaven.

She taught me in a very quiet way, that a smile, a hug and little visits can change the course of your day, your attitude and your heart.

Someone asked me one time, how can you enter a Care facility and make a difference.   My response is always the same:

It’s not about you…..it’s about loving on others with a smile and a little pat on the arm; and allowing the Lord to take it from there.

Just walking into each person’s room at these facilities and waving with a smile can make all the difference in the world…..their world and yours!

For those of you who dread the after-effects of anesthesia, you will appreciate some of the details about this post-surgery scenario.  Now I realize that some people can awake from anesthesia and are slowly cognizant of their bearings, but I am not one of them.

The story will be short and sweet (poor word used here, I know), but the kindness of one friend simply overwhelmed me with love until I collected myself during the moments when most people would have already left the recovery area.

I know, ahead of time, that after any surgery, I’m not going to feel well.  My stomach seems to revolt at the invasion of sharp items on, and in my body.  I won’t go into details about the eruption of events.  Your own imagination can take over quite nicely.

For any of you that have had surgery, you know that you need to show up about two hours prior to “getting your repair work” done in the surgical room.  During this time, you’re adorned with an “almost gown” that has been out of style for some time, then a nurse arrives to play pin-cushion in an attempt to get an IV started in your arm.   All is well at this point.

If you’re alone, your eyes are scanning your personal horizon taking in all the details of your waiting room.  Then Mr. Anesthesiologist enters your domain and announces his arrival and title.   He usually asks if you have any questions.  At this point, your memory has gone on vacation and forgot to take you with it.  I appreciate anesthesiologists, but they sure are “powerful people” in their ability to night-night you at their chosen moment.

Prior to speaking to this “night night physician” I usually carry a piece of paper into the hospital with me.  I’ll tell you what’s written down:

DON’T FORGET TO GIVE ME THE ANTI-NAUSEA MEDS

For the surgeries I’ve experienced, my husband has always been allowed to remain with me until they take me into the surgical area.  Just before I’m about to be transferred via the hospital limousine, the gurney, I announced a critical request to my husband.   It is the following:

When I’m brought back to the room, make sure you have the ice cream bucket ready for me.

The attending nurse encouraged me with an affirming nod that everything is ready.  That means, you’re going to go “night night” shortly.  Some anesthesiologists give you a math test.   They invite you to start at the number ten and count backwards.   Of course, you’ll fail their test, as you can only get to nine and “out you go.”   At this point, I’d have it no other way. 

Not long after the “put-you-out-doctor” leaves you presence, your surgeon makes a prompt appearance.  He’s all dressed up for you in his best “all whites” or “all greens,” depending on the fashion color chosen by the hospital staff.    “We’re all ready for you,” he or she announces.    And you know what that means!   There is a reception waiting for you in a bright little room.   You probably won’t see the room, but you’ll be fully present in just a few minutes.

From this point on, you know nothing — and you’re quite happy about that.

Several hours have passed and the limousine trolley is transporting you from the intensive care area to your room.   Now here is where you’re alert enough to know that the surgery is over, you’re alive and grateful; but your tummy is beginning to announce that’s things southward aren’t peaceful.

It’s now that I’m urgently requesting the “ice cream bucket.”  My husband assures me that it’s right by my side.   My predictions are coming into focus, and I’m not a happy camper.  This particular time I knew my husband was present as well as a dear friend.  I could see her in the background.  Then, as predicted, my insides displayed their unhappiness about the event. 

Here is where I needn’t be detailed.  But there is one detail that I will forever remember.  In my attempts to rendezvous with the ice cream bucket in an up-close and personal manner, the  appearance of my lovely friend came into focus.   She knew I wasn’t feeling well and as I was doing some “releasing….shall we say,” she was saying things like…..”It’s okay….try and get it all out, and I’m here. 

She would gently pat my shoulder.  During all of this time, she was only about 6 inches from my face.  She wanted to assure me that I was “not alone.”   Her presence meant the world to me.   Even to this day, I can close my eyes and see her up close and personal giving constant assurance.   By the way, she had a great grip on that ice cream bucket as well.

She continues to be a dear friend to me; one that I don’t have to be at my best for her to love me.   The experience was as if God Himself came close and held me.   And He did…..through the eyes and arms and tender words of my friend.

This story is one of the most delightful and personal surprises of my life.   Like any woman, I do not post my age at the local post office or publish it on Facebook.   If you are interested, my age is older than some and younger than others.   If you are a physician, you would be informing me that I needn’t worry about birth control at this point.   That’s the extent of my conversation in this delicate area.

My husband and I have been married for a good number of years.  Most people, when you are first introduced, either ask “what do you do for a living,” or “do you have any children?”

With my personality, I’m tempted to respond to the first inquiry by responding, “I do lots of things while I’m living, and most of them don’t bring in an income.”    And in response to the second question, I sometimes feel an emotional tear that’s anxious to express itself.

No, we don’t have any children of our own, but we do have lots of other peoples’ children.   Often people will break into a laugh, and then it’s as if they don’t know how to continue the conversation.   I suppose most people assume that everyone has a children….but that is not always true.

I like the terms God produced in my heart.     Every life is different and holds a different plan.   Some have the “gift of singleness.”  Some have the gift of marriage and children.”   Some have the “gift of loving other peoples’ children.”   Whatever the plan, it’s orchestrated for God’s purposes and building His family here on earth…..for our eternal life with Him.

One day I was prompted to attend a Bible Study.   I had never been to this study before, so everyone was new to me.  When I entered the room, women were gathering around and sitting at various tables.    I noticed a woman in a wheelchair who was sitting alone.   That’s the table I chose to sit at.  Ever-so-slowly other women began to move to our table.   

After all the chairs were taken, I observed that, except for this woman in the wheelchair and myself, all the other women were Asian.   I love Asian women!

There was one particular young Chinese gal to whom I was inescapably drawn to.   She seemed quiet and gentle.    After our time together, we all left the room and went to our individual homes.   The following week she appeared again at the table I was sitting at.   There was just a spark in my heart for her.   I smiled at her whenever I had the opportunity.  She had shared that she felt her attempt at the English language wasn’t sufficient to be understood and she felt awkward sometimes.   In my eyes, she was delightful and I had no problem at all understanding her pronunciation of the English language. 

This eye surveillance of this sweet gal just grew in intensity.  About the third week, I made the plunge and asked her if she would enjoy coming to my home for a latte one morning.   To my delight, she accepted.  We chose a date later that week.

I was a little nervous in having her over and I can sometimes struggle for conversation.   But beyond my apprehension was my desire to get to know this sweetheart of a gal.

She had short hair, tastefully designed around her face; and she had the most beautiful dark brown eyes that just seemed to sparkle when she spoke.

The morning arrived!   I had the latte machine all warmed up and ready for its next brew of a latte for my new Chinese friend-to-be.   I greeted her with open arms at the front door, and it seemed that we both relaxed immediately while greeting each other.   

The expresso machine was my first attempt at “entertainment”  of my guest.  Soon we both ventured to our little living room, a cozy setting with the lights on and ready to host this new relationship.

I can’t remember what all we talked about, but somewhere in the morning’s venue, I asked if she was nervous at being invited to my home.   She took no time in her response.   “Yes!”   You see, it was her first time ever to be invited to a Westerner’s home.

I shared my thoughts about meeting her for the first time at this Bible study and how drawn I was to her.   I couldn’t encourage her more in her exceptional grasp of the English language.   We talked non-stop for about two hours.   It was time for her to return to her routine at home, but it wouldn’t be the last time in my home…..or in my heart.

Before long, my new friend invited me to her place.  It seemed our friendship just took off….to wonderful places.

She, along with her daughter, had moved to Canada from China.  Her husband’s employment in China prevented his continued life with his family for a few years.  As you can only imagine, the impact of being in a new country and strange and foreign culture was huge.   She was encouraged to learn English while growing up in China, but depending on comprehending another language in this new culture became a tremendous adjustment.   She and I chatted about all these changes and adjustments on a regular basis.    I too had moved a few times to a different country and culture.   I understood, in many personal ways, the pain of homesickness, insecurity, and a sense of belonging, new doctors, dentist, shopping and the process of making friendships.   It was quite an emotional time in her life and I so wanted to both identify with her and encourage her in this continued process.

Months after our friendship was established, she and her daughter flew back to China to visit her husband and parents.  It was then that she realized God had provided her a friend in Canada that would miss her and long for her return….my husband and I.

Here’s where the “delightful surprise” began to emerge.  A short time after her return, she shared with me that for the first time she felt as though she had family that missed her presence when she left for her trip overseas.

To my delight and surprise, she opened up to me about what she was feeling in her heart toward my husband and me.   She then asked if I would become her Canadian Mom!  Usually in adoption settings, it’s the parents who choose a child.  This creative adoption was in reverse, she chose us.   I was so thrilled and felt so honored that she wanted to adopt us.  

From that day forth, she never called me by my first name, but referred to me as “Mom.”   I melt inside each time she uses the term Mom when talking with me.   I never in my wildest imagination thought that God would have prepared this unique type of adoption for me; but I couldn’t be more pleased.

For those of you that are a Mom or a Dad to someone, never forget the tenderness in the heart of someone who addresses you with that beautiful reference of love and relationship.

There are so many ways to tenderly touch the lives of people who have suffered.   As I reminisce about the experiences I’ve had with others in this delicate and emotional area, I find that it still brings before me a tenderness of heart and emotion. 

Most all of us have experienced some kind of a loss in our life.   Loss is a very real part of life.  Losses range from the loss of a friendship, a beloved pet, a dear friend, a family member, your home country.  Losses also could involve loss of security, familiar surroundings, innocence, a job and on and on.  

All losses touch our heart and ignite within us a vast chasm of emotions.  What I find most disturbing and painful is to hear of people, that in their arena of loss, regardless of the degree of pain, some pass through this journey seemingly alone.   The Bible says in Galatians 6:2  “Bear one another’s burdens….”

When we come along side friends and family in the loss of a loved one, we can attend a memorial service, send flowers or a card, and while all of that is commendable and honoring to our friend or family member, there is more we can do.

I wish to talk about what transpires after the service, after the buffet of food and fellowship ceases when everyone goes to their individual homes and continue on with their life as normal.

The emptiness of a house of the person in the midst of loss can seem so over-powering and empty that life, as it once was shared, seems to be forever beyond ones grasp.

Sometimes even the air is hard to swallow.  The quietness implies that the laughter and conversation will never really return. 

In a particular loss I had some years ago, I missed someone asking me, what’s for dinner, how was your day, would you like to go for a ride or a walk?    We feel those losses deeply.

Here’s where there is a TREMENDOUS OPPORTUNITY to make a difference in the life of someone who has experienced loss.  We often think that we just don’t have “time” in our day, in addition to our responsibilities of life to reach out and get involved with yet another person.

God has other ideas about these seasons in life.

Isn’t it strange that we often must experience things ourselves in order to know “how others might feel?”   Walking through a pain or loss, most often sets the stage where we begin to understand how to “tenderly touch” the life of another one going through a similar experience.   We all experience pain and grief differently, don’t we.

Believe me, I do not have a handle on all the ways we can lovingly help another through their pain and loss; but I do have a few ideas that I want to express in this delicate story.

When I was a caregiver for my mother, I missed the social connection with others.   We have no problem wanting to be around our friends and family when everything is “just fine” and we find them enjoyable to be around.   There’s no awkwardness at all in our conversation or in the expression of happiness.  

But, if we would be honest, don’t most of us avoid people walking through a painful experience of loss, adjustment, or disappointment.  I know I can feel that way sometimes.

On my journey, I began to view this awkwardness from a different perspective….”God’s perspective.”    I think our temptation is that when we feel awkward, we don’t know what to say or to do, and we wish we could just take away their pain….but we cannot.   God has introduced me to a new thought about this.   The first being,

“This isn’t about you…..it’s about the other person.”

I think all of us can agree that many times, we’re so focused on ourselves, that we forget about the other person.

Over and over in life, God seems to say to me…..”it’s not about you!”    If we want God to use you and me in the life and loss of another, our focus needs to be on faithfully and practically loving on that person.

I’d like to introduce to you just a few suggestions of outreach that God has been weaving in my life.   I cannot “take away someone’s pain,” but I can enter into their life’s experience “of pain” and touch them in tender, practical ways.  

May I share just a few ideas that have breathed freshness, tenderness, laughter and love into hearts that are hurting?   No one likes to be alone in their pain…and I wanted to share just a few thoughts that have sprung up from my journey with others on ways we can be the “hands and feet” of our caring Jesus to them.   Here are some lonely places where people can find themselves:

–        People diagnosed with an incurable disease

–        Someone who was a 24/7 caregiver for his wife

–        People who have either lost a wife or a husband and now        they face loneliness

–        People recovering from major surgery or expecting major        surgery

There are numerous friends of mine, who along with a number of others, have walked a very difficult and emotional journey.   Let me share just a few of the ways God has encouraged me to “journey with them.”

This one particular friend who lost his wife, was a dear man.  He was a retired pastor who went to the hospital prior to every person’s surgery in the church he attended.  He was there at their “pre-op” time just to be with them and pray with them.  He was there when others’ lost their spouses.   But when this man’s wife went home to heaven, there were very few that reached out to him.  People just didn’t know what to say to him.

Many times in life, especially with losses, there “are no words.”   Just our presence means the world to someone.   Each morning or evening I would phone him to just say hello.  I’d ask him a range of questions at various times.   Most of all I’d ask him daily, how do you feel today?   And then I would “just listen.”  Sometimes I would ask what he had for dinner or lunch.   But most often I would just say, “Hello, I’m thinking about you and I care.”   It wasn’t what I said, but more often how I listened and chose to just be in contact with him.

Listening is a wonderful ministry and a lovely way of telling others you love them, because you don’t have to “know anything….just listen.”   Now for me, that’s a freedom I can embrace.

People just need us to walk “with them” through their loss and grief.   People need us to “talk and reminisce about their loved one.”    People need to know that even though their loved one has gone……most importantly, they are not forgotten.    People love to hear us “join them in discussion” about their departed loved one.

I can recall a couple who lost their son through a very difficult challenge.   As my husband came across the father of this young son when he was out shopping, he stopped to chat awhile and asked about his son who had now been gone for ten years.   The man broke into tears and they entered into a heart-felt discussion about his loss, some ten years earlier.  My husband asked him if others would get into a tender dialogue with him about the life of his son.   He shared that seldom would anyone ask about his treasured son.   His tears were fresh, not because he hadn’t worked through the grieving process, but because my husband had taken the time to want to ask about his dear son.

We may feel uncomfortable about asking about others’ losses, but their heart will know and be grateful that we cared enough to ask.  It’s not about us……but about “them.”

More than one grieving friend has shared with me that most people never bring up the loved one’s name because they’re afraid that it will cause more pain.   That couldn’t be more wrong.  Sharing wonderful experiences about their loved one, keeps their loved one’s memory alive and helps them in the grieving process.

One dear friend said that my calls every day was something she could count on.  She knew she wasn’t forgotten.  Most all of the friends I have mentioned thus far, do not live in the city where my husband and I reside.   So this is “long-distance caring.”

If you’re close by, perhaps a note, a casserole, a banana loaf would be meaningful.  If possible, include them once a week for dinner.   Many years ago we had a neighbor who lost his wife and we’d have him over for dinner, or a snack, and even watched TV together now and then to get him out of his house.  He shared that he felt so connected with others who cared.   You may only share popcorn for an evening with someone as you watch TV.   It doesn’t matter what you serve them…..but that you cared enough to “include them.”

Each of us have different responsibilities and time restraints, I get that.   You may enjoy sharing your baked goods, or a meal, and that’s wonderful.    Your “checking in on someone call” may last only four or five minutes.  Those “daily calls” to just one person who is in a painful season can make all the difference in the world…for that day…for that week…for that month.  You may want to consider that your “five minute ministry.”   It’s not a huge commitment, but one that will create a special bond between you and that person.

One particular comment from the daughter of my pastor friend, after he went home to be with the Lord was:  “He told me that your calls every day were his lifeline.”   I had phoned him daily until God took him home.   When we reach out to love on and refresh another, in whatever way we can, large or miniscule, we become refreshed ourselves.

Caregivers need care too!   Reaching out to a care-giver can help them in their role of love to those they’re caring for.  God sent me two lovely women who “gifted me” with their time and talents.

One woman came every week and attended to a variety of household chores.  In addition to that, she would prepare lunch for my Mom and often surprise me with dinner in the oven.   My Mother loved having her around and this would free me for a couple hours for a rest or long walk.

Another friend would visit my Mother and I every week.   She had many creative abilities.   One of them was her garden.  She could arrange flowers so beautifully.  Honestly, she could arrange a handful of dandelions as though they were roses.   She would bring my Mother a bouquet of flowers almost every other week, if not weekly.   She refreshed me weekly with her love and caring ways. 

She and her husband walked through my care-giving role holding me steady, phoning me, coming over for lunch, decorating our home at Christmas.  Each week, she would share of herself in a variety of practical ways.   It was a time when I had nothing to give to others.   My friend would listen to my tears and my fears, and with never a judgmental word. 

When my Mother went home to heaven, they listened for at least a year and a half at my recollections of memories about my Mother.    We need to listen to our friends’ stories and memories over and over and over….to assist them through the grieving process.    You and I never “get over” our losses; we “get through them.”    If a person has a relationship with God, He gives a comfort that is deep and real and He uses others in His care for our hurting hearts.

Yes, we will mourn the losses of those we touch.  And that’s because they have become a “treasure” to us.  For wherever our treasure is, our heart will be there also.   Loving on others whether they are dealing with loneliness or heading “toward heaven,” our tender touches through a call or visit is a ministry in “walking them home.”

I like to tell new acquaintances that I’m the type of friend that can enjoy a bologna sandwich on the curb just to enjoy another’s company.   Now, I always need to be that kind of friend to others.

There is another way to love on another’s heart.   That is remembering that “DATE” of loss a year later, on the anniversary.   Many have shared with me that the anniversary date brings with it a “tremendous” emotion and a full sense of the reminder of what took place. 

 I have a couple of precious people in my life that I have marked on “my calendar” the date of “their loss.”   I phone them on that date and let them know that I’m remembering “with them.”   A friend shared with me that when I remember that date with them, she feels her grief is lessened and held in the heart of another.

In one of the neighborhoods we lived, there was a Christmas gathering.  Most all of the surrounding neighbors were invited.  I remember vividly the day this neighbor lady walked through the door.   She seemed a friendly, happy person.  For some reason, I was drawn to her and thought to myself, “I’d like to get to know her….but had no idea how that was going to happen as I wasn’t aware of any of her interests.”   Well, God did!

I found myself listening intently to what she enjoyed talking about.  It wasn’t long before she shared with me that she was alone.   Her husband had died two years ago and it was still a painful emotion for her, especially at Christmas time, as that wasn’t far away from the anniversary of her husband’s death.   Oddly enough, she shared the date of his passing with me in conversation.   My immediate reaction inwardly was to “remember that date.”  

Soon after leaving the party, I went to my calendar and marked down the date she gave me.   I prayed, and asked the Lord how could I let her know I care about her pain?   I’m accustomed to walking our dogs in the neighborhood every day.   The moment I came around the corner where she lived, it “dawned on me” what to do…..write a note and put it in this woman’s mail box on the anniversary date.  

I prepared the card and put the date of delivery in the upper right-hand corner of the envelope (in pencil of course).   Early that morning I made the “delicate delivery.”   Within just a few hours I got a “teary telephone call” from her telling me how much my wee note meant to her.   She made the comment that it seemed like God put that note in her mailbox for just the appropriate moment.   Well, in a sense, God did just that.   I was His mail carrier that day.  

There is no “greater joy” than to be the hands and feet of our living Savior.   Our lives are filled with “Divine opportunities” waiting for our participation.  It’s living our lives with “intentionality!”  Each day allowing God to order the agenda of our activity.   If we’re willing, He is full of surprises that will lead us into the hearts and lives of others, if we’re willing.

It’s a “quiet ministry” to be sure……but one that holds the heart of your friend who has experienced a loss ever-so-gently and with heart-felt compassion. 

Kindness is love in action………OUR ACTION!

This experience was a unique opportunity to show God’s love and practical care. 

I’m an outdoor, work-in-the-garden and get-your-hands-dirty type of homemaker.   There is something therapeutic about moving about in the dirt, rocks and grass.  My fingernails can attest to the fact that they’ve been active participants in my yard care events.  There’s been more than once that women passing by in those cute little jogging outfits have glanced my way as I was bent over or moaning in the garden.  When there’s been sufficient eye contact with one, I smile and respond with the phrase:   “some people belong to the gym, I get my work out here in the yard.”   

We lived in an area of the United States at one time that was very HOT for about six months of the year.   You were hard-pressed to even visually take notice of a neighbor.   People would drive home from work or shopping in their air-conditioned cars and pull directly into their garages, heading straight for their air-conditioned homes.   I’d be the first to admit we did the same.  It was just too hot for work or play in the yard!   Even dipping into a pool felt like a warm shower.

Over the cooler months I got to know our neighbors.  One morning was particularly cool, a balmy 85 degrees.   I perched myself in a lawn chair and enjoyed a latte outside in our front entry to relax and enjoy an hour of “doing nothing.”  Yes, doing “nothing” is a wonderful activity sometimes.

My chair was out far enough to notice some activity a few houses down the street.  What caught my eye was our neighbor directing a man in the placement of rocks in his yard.   This “rock traffic” scenario was to form a water-bed scene in his front yard using rocks.   

I knew the neighbor in charge of this project, and even from a distance, I thought it was a clever idea.  Before too much time elapsed, I found myself walking over to peruse the situation.  I wasn’t there long when it was obvious that my neighbor was not happy about the “rock arrangement” being carried out by his hired worker. 

My neighbor had outlined this continuous rock bed formation with larger rocks, and this hired man was to place the rocks within that design so it would resemble a stream like brook.    My observation was pretty accurate by the rolling of the eyes and deep breathing of my neighbor.  The man whom he hired to help out was just tossing the 6” to 8” rocks into the area at random hoping they would look right after landing.

Neither my neighbor, or his hired worker, nor I, had any experience in “rock arrangement;” but I could see that it was looking messy, and frustration was written all over my neighbor’s face.   A conversation began to take place in my head.   It was this:   “I think each rock should be “arranged” in this designated area, not just tossed in with the hope it would work out to resemble a river-bed.”

Now normally I would have minded my own business and walked back home, but my inner frustration was mounting, and so was my neighbor’s.   I thought to myself, this worker needs help.  He needs to be “shown how” to place the rocks, then perhaps he would catch on.  

I gently invited myself into this “rocky project” by asking the owner if I could just help out a little, and see what would happen if we would attempt to “arrange the rocks” carefully instead of tossing them in at random.   At this point, he certainly had a more than cooperative spirit to that idea!  

Now I need to insert that earlier in the week I had asked the Lord to use me in our neighborhood and create practical “opportunities” to love others, as He loved them.    Well, the opportunity became abundantly clear and was ever-so-close to home.

The task at hand required you to get on your knees.   I found that if I took each rock and placed them, like a puzzle piece, to both fill and overlap over the dirt, it began to take shape.   After about ten minutes of puzzling the rocks together, it began to look like a stream.    The owner, my neighbor, was thrilled that this array of rocks was beginning to come together in a stream-like fashion.  

Before long (about two hours later), I had completed over a third of the “rock arrangement” in his front yard.   I never looked up to see what the other man was doing, but I think he was given a new assignment.    That being:  just bring the rocks from the truck and dump them close to where I was kneeling.    The hours went by, and before the end of the morning, the “stream” was halfway completed.

The following morning the worker never showed up at my neighbor’s home.   You guessed it, I found myself “cheaply employed” by our neighbor.  I say cheaply because my earnings came through smiles, not cash.    We both agreed to start the completion of the stream very early the following morning.  Now it was just the two of us playing with these rocks.  

My neighbor was a tall, slim man, and my build is much closer to the ground.   He wisely suggested I needed knee pads for my protection from callouses.  Good idea….I used his.   This time I was dressed appropriately for the job, very old clothes,and a ball cap with a pair of “tight-fitting” knee pads.  Trust me, it wasn’t a pretty picture; but who cares, you’re playing in the dirt.

Laboring together was fun (did I say fun?).   He would scoop out the rocks from the truck, and dump them close by so I could just reach out and grab a rock and continue the sorting and placement. 

To be honest, I was really “into my work.”  Things were progressing quite well and the “creek formation” was clearly  coming together.  

We were on a roll, as they say, until we were interrupted by neighbors driving by and stopping to ask:  “who’s the little boy you have working for you?”   My neighbor, the task manager of this project began to laugh.   My focus was on the rocks, but when the pile of what I was forming was empty, I wondered why he had stopped doing his end of the job. 

I rose up slowly (and I mean slowly…as my back was getting sore) and found several pairs of eyes perched in my direction.  Accompanying the eyes was laughter.    They were laughing at the fact that they thought I was a boy.   My “rock boss” told them who I was and they couldn’t believe it.    At this, I was prompt to take off my hat and reveal my true identity.   I’m a girl for goodness sake!

This just brought on more laughter.  After my six foot plus boss ceased his chuckling, we resumed the routine of our work.   About an hour later, the CREEK BED WAS COMPLETED!!!!

I even lost a few pounds during that task.  But I will never forget the fun and sense of joy in helping out my neighbor.  And most of all, realizing that this was “God’s practical assignment” for me that week to show this man something of God’s love and care for him.

So if you’re interested in being a channel for God to use in your neighborhood, may I suggest driving with your eyes fixed straight ahead as you never know who might need “your helping hand….…on God’s behalf.”

I must add that about a week later my neighbor came over and presented me with a lovely gift………….. my own “new knee pads.” 

Early morning is my best time, so I’m in bed by 9:30 or 10:00 pm.   Sometimes, if I’m wanting to relax before bedtime, I adorn my body with pajamas.   There’s no need for a description….but let me assure you, they’re comfortable.  

My husband was out of town at the time, so it really didn’t matter what time I approached the “sleepy time” position.

I was very tired that evening, and all was well as I lay my head on the pillow.  There was no need for counting sheep.  Then it began, some odd noises.  At first I tried to ignore the sounds, after all I was tired and it was almost eleven at night.  My next thought alarmed me and woke me right up.   My husband wasn’t there to check out the sounds, so I immediately rose and peered out the window.

It didn’t take long to locate the source of the noise.  It was a neighbor around the corner calling out for her dog.   No problem, I thought, if I could hear her calling out, surely her dog would hear and her and begin responding.

This call out to her dog continued on and on and on.  Now I love and enjoy animals, and my mind began to consider heading down the stairs and out our front door to see if two voices calling out would help draw this canine homeward bound.

My goodness, I can’t go out with my pajamas on, can I?   Her plea and calls became more insistent; to the point where my pajamas came along with my body, right down the steps and swirling towards the front door.  

Before I could pause and take the time to really consider what I was doing, I found myself running towards her home.   Let me also say that I grabbed my robe to keep me warm and covered for this pursuit down the street.

The woman was almost in tears when I arrived just 60 seconds after leaping out of my warm, comfortable bed.   “What’s wrong,” I asked.   Her dog had got out of the yard and wouldn’t come home.  I gathered by this information that he wasn’t “street smart” to figure out to where he should return.

Without thinking (who thinks straight after 11 pm anyway), I began not only joining the search, but soon directing the “search and rescue.”   I suggested she grab her car keys, get her car out of the garage, and we’d drive around the neighborhood together.   She must have agreed to the suggestion, because she took off like a startled cat, into the house, and moments later the garage door squeaked open and off we went.   

I prayed silently before her foot made contact with the car’s accelerator asking for God’s help in locating her little furry family friend.

Here’s what the scenario actually looked like.  As she drove, I flung a portion of my body out the window and began yelling out the dog’s name at the top of my lungs.   I can’t remember what his name was; but suffice it to say it appeared as only one syllable, thank goodness. 

Can you imagine if I had to vocalize two syllables in a moving car late at night?  I vowed right then and there that if I encountered a neighbor the following day, and they asked if that was my voice they heard calling out the previous evening, I would deny everything.

We drove around and around the blocks in the community.   With the movement of the car, I found myself repeating her dog’s name about once every 5 seconds.   I’m sure we woke up a number of our neighbors who expected an undisturbed night’s sleep.  If not, we certainly disrupted their attempt to snooze.

I was rehearsing in my mind, “Yes the Lord cares and knows all about this.”   He knows I want to help my neighbor.  After all, if that was our little dog (who also wasn’t street smart) who was lost, I’d give anything if someone gave up the comfort of their home and tried to help me.     Let me insert here, that I did ask the Lord “What would you have me to do?”   In a word, His response was GO!

As I recall the event, she drove, and I yelled out the car window for about twenty minutes.   Then alas, a black furry critter, weighing about 40 pounds came darting towards the car.   My eyes grew like a large marble. “There he is!”   I kept calling out and he came running towards the car.  The dog probably couldn’t believe his eyes. 

We jumped out of the car like jack rabbits as I witnessed a very happy reunion of the dog and the owner.   On the way home, I about burst into tears.  My vocal cords were happy to be silent, and I know the neighbors must have been relieved as well.  I think there may have been a number of neighbors searching for a pen and paper to capture our license plate number about this time.

Upon arriving back at her home, she was so appreciative of my willingness to help her out in this doggie dilemma.   It was only as we got out of the car that she noticed that I was adorned in my bed-time attire, my pajamas and robe.   We laughed ourselves silly, then I walked home.

As my adrenaline started to calm down, I asked the Lord to use this situation for “His glory and His purposes.”   Yes, He can and does use every tiny little thing we do for others.

Yes, He notices, uses and blesses even every miniscule little thing we do for others on His behalf…even looking for dogs in the night.

To make a long story short, the following week I asked her to come to a Christmas program at our church.  She came….and heard about Jesus…..Emmanuel……God with us!

I don’t know how God will use all of this in her life, but I considered it a joy to join in God’s activity in my neighbor’s life….to let her know that God not only wants to “live within us,” but to “help us and walk through” all the events of our lives.

When I finally came home from the excursion around the neighborhood, I got to thinking about why we looked high and low for that dog.   The owner wasn’t content to just call out his name and hope that he would come scurrying home.   She knew the nature of her dog was to roam.   He had no intention of returning and, for a while, he enjoyed the freedom of wandering in new territory.    But after the temperature came down and it got dark, things didn’t look the same in his venture into freedom.

This made me think how God lovingly seeks after us.  He knows our propensity to sin and to run away from Him and His ways.  It’s not in us to seek after God.  He knows that, but because He loves us so much and longs to have a personal relationship with us, He comes looking for us through our lives and in our circumstances…..as messy and lost as they are.

My neighbor friend loved her dog.  This furry critter was valuable to her and that’s why she went looking for him.  Because of her love she wanted the dog home.   In a similar way, it reminds me that God created each of us and we are loved and are of value to Him, so He works in our lives to help us “return home.”  That’s what it means to be saved.   Saved from our sin and its consequences.

A few weeks later, she had me over for tea and when I knocked on the door, you can just about guess who welcomed me like never before.  THE DOG!   If dogs can piece together information, I can imagine his thoughts to be……

“That’s the woman with the megaphone of a voice calling my name all over the neighborhood…..the night I was lost.”

It has been many years since the embryo of this true story emerged, but it always brings tears to my eyes because of its special nature.

My Dad wasn’t well versed on “affirmation.”   He was orphaned when he was only eight years of age by his mother’s death, so he wasn’t equipped with many mentors in his family.    I begin with this statement because our parents, regardless of how they were raised, usually do the best they know how.   No one is the perfect parent, except God, the Father.   And His first two children, Adam and Eve who lived in a perfect environment, with a perfect parent, God Himself, blew it big time.   So parents reading this, be encouraged.

I preface this story with the above explanation…..as the story will, in the end, honor my Dad.    My Dad had an outgoing personality and was a very friendly.  He could parade through a grocery store (which he did about four times a week) entertaining and befriending every clerk.   One time, as we were approaching the check out, I heard him refer to the cashier as Priscilla.   Then as I approached he would introduce me as his daughter, his first Priscilla.   I had no idea I had so many namesakes.

My visits to my parents’ home occurred about four times a year.  How grateful I am for the free tickets to the State where my parents were living, due to my husband’s many accrued air miles as a result of his travels.   In addition to enjoying my time with them, it was an opportunity to work around the home doing odd jobs and tackling big cleanup projects so they could remain in their home.

After breakfast one morning, I took a cup of tea to my former bedroom (when I formally lived at home) and read my Bible.   May I insert that I had been praying for my parents to receive Jesus Christ as their personal Savior for about 15 years.   

My Dad had absolutely no interest in God!   That included any radio or television programs that brought God into focus.  It took a number of years for God’s wisdom to sink into my head and behavior to realize that my walk needed to match my talk!   In fact, there was little “talk” about Jesus as Dad would either leave the conversation, or walk out of the room.

My Father was a diabetic and required two shots of insulin each day.   My Mother was very good at this and attended to this function every day for him.    She was a very steady, strong-willed woman, and good at meeting my Dad’s needs.

I had no more than closed my Bible this particular morning when my Mother gave a little knock on my door and gently peeked in the door with a statement I shall never forget.   I won’t sermonize this but there is one verse that will begin to come alive in the following paragraphs.

John 13:l4  If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; you also ought to wash one another’s feet.

My Mom’s words were:   “there is something your Dad would like you to do for him, and I can’t do it.”   What????   My Mom seemed to handle anything.   Her morning injections were as smooth as ice.   What was it that she couldn’t do, that Dad required?

I say that gingerly, because I was raised with doubt in his mind that I could do anything right.   Even if I mowed the lawn, he would be quick to point out a blade I missed.  My goodness, this had to be a BIG request.

What is it, I inquired?  He wants you to do his feet?  What that translates to is to clean and file down the almost l/2 inch of fungus on his toenails.   He was unable to do it himself.  He had been to a Podiatrist (whom I love to refer to as a toenail doctor) and his procedure was very painful for my Dad and he wasn’t about to make a return appointment.

With the background I described earlier, can you sense the stress I was beginning to feel?   Shortly thereafter I approached my Dad asking him to tell me, in more detail, what he wanted.   Oddly enough, I hadn’t seen my Dad’s feet in years.    You might think that odd, but if you think about it, we usually see people fully dressed, shoes and socks complete.

He invited me to the living room and began unravelling the socks to show me his feet, specifically, his toenails.   I tried my best not to look shocked.  The nails were at different heights and all filled with fungus that needed to be shaved down so they were smooth.

You might wonder how much experience I’d had in performing this podiatry skill.   NONE!     As I was looking at his feet, my first thoughts were, I cannot do this.   I don’t know how.  

Then it happened, God began to bring to my memory some of the verses I had just read in John 13.    Words we may read in our devotional time aren’t just words to “leave on the page,” they are to be “worked out in the sneakers of our living.”     God was preparing me for this new assignment.  

All our God-assignments of serving others are to bring honor and glory to God.   In other words, our words and ways are to “make God look good.”

The instant the reality of this verse hit home, I knew God was asking me to “attend to my Dad’s feet. “   This would involve not only cleaning his feet, but attending to and reducing the fungus under the nails.   

Thus, my first idea that I shared with Dad was that he needed to soak his feet in nice warm sudsy water.  He was quite prepared as he had proper files, clippers and the works.    I had prayed for over ten years for God to open up an opportunity to share Christ with him.   I had shared my story of becoming a Christian years prior, but with no positive response.

This evening was my “Divine Appointment and Divine Assignment.”   It was my time to “be the Gospel….be Jesus to him.”

My Dad’s good news that day came with my “Yes, I’ll try.”   I suggested that after supper, I would get a container of nice clean warm water to soak his feet in, and then proceed to attend to his tootsies!    My Dad’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.  He was more than on board for all of this.

After this brief introduction to his “tootsies” I went to my room to collect myself.   I thought to myself, “How in the world can I do this?   How can I get past the insecurity of the assignment?    God’s Spirit instantly reminded me of two truths:

Philippians 2:13   “For it is God who works in you both to will and to do of His good pleasure.

Philippians 4:13   “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”   And this includes FEET!

Dinner was over and the “foot event” was about to commence.  But, “how Lord,” was I to do this, to me, this was an impossible task?     The immediate answer was this:   Dianne, pretend that your Dad’s feet were Jesus’ feet.   That was a tall order, as well as it was my marching orders.

I’m glad Mom shared his request in the afternoon, as it gave God and I time to interact about all of this and get the equipment ready.   You’d have thought we were having a party…..as my Dad was “so enthusiastic.”

Dad was anxious to get started and had himself all propped up on the sofa in the living room.   Mom wanted to get in on all this too.   They both seemed so relieved and excited about the potential activity.   So with my personality, I thought we might as well turn this into a “foot party.”

Pale with warm water, soap, wash cloth, nice towels in place, and the soaking activity began.   I soaped up his feet and gently rubbed them.  That must have felt good as Dad was all smiles about this time.   Then I laid a towel on my lap and began patting dry his feet.

When I took the various files in my hand to begin, a wonderful thing happened in my heart that translated in my eyes.   I began to see my Dad’s feet as though they were the feet of Jesus.   

With gentle, yet firm strokes, I began the procedure of filing down each toenail.   To my utter amazement they began to quickly reduce in size, and an hour later, all his toenails were smooth to the touch and normal in height.   Afterwards I massaged his feet with a nice cream and covered his feet with clean white socks.   He was delighted!!!   I was “over the moon” with relief.   The best part of all this was that I never hurt him.   God is so good.

This was the first of four cleaning sessions a year lasting for a little over twenty-five years.   This was the first time in my life that my Dad seemed appreciative of my efforts.    Every time I came for a visit, we had a “foot party.”   This foot party turned into a manicure of his hands.   The party escalated so that even my Mom wanted her feet and hands done too.    Each party lasted about two hours.   An hour for each of my “parent customers.”

This isn’t the end of the story.   After praying thirty eight years for my Dad and through twenty five of those years, attending to his feet, my Dad finally came to give his life to Christ just eleven days before the Lord took him home to heaven to be with his new-found Savior.

God touches others through our lives.    He does use our lips, but often God works through loving others by “serving them” in whatever opportunity God opens up.   

Many times we’re given the privilege of telling another about Jesus and that’s a wonderful joy.   But we need to be more than willing to “show them Jesus” through loving service to them in whatever arena God brings to us.    To demonstrate God’s love requires our willingness to be changed……and that is where the first miracle is initiated.   

I think people would rather experience the love of God firsthand…………so that their hearts become most open to hearing it!!