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!!

I so enjoy writing about friends.  God has orchestrated that many lovely people join me along my life’s journey.   This encounter was a “high calorie one.”    This friend is a wonderful baker.   Over the years of knowing her, I have always looked forward to desserts at her place.  They were always home-made, and presented very attractively.

One Christmas season we got our heads together and decided that we would plan a morning social with one another.   Most socials host several people, but not ours.   It was decided that it would be just the two of us.

If my memory serves me well, we both agreed to bake and share our home-made delights.   Trust me on this one, hers were “better than mine.”    Now let me be quick to let you know that this was decided about 3 weeks before Christmas, and we had both agreed to not eat any cookies, regardless of where we were invited, or how tasty their appeal.    We tried to hold each other accountable on this…..and I think we both had kept our word.  At least our hips never grew during the three week period.

Our ovens were busy, and icing sugar was in high demand.  Then the morning arrived.   It has been agreed upon that we would have this “dine in delight” at her home.    Several plates were assembled and the coffee pot was brewing.

There we sat, in her living room propelling our elbows and wrists at just the right angle to eat one cookie after another.  Occasionally we would sip the delicious coffee.   Our conversation went all over the map that morning.  We just enjoyed one another.  We were “friends in heart.”

In a story like this one, it would not be polite to announce the volume of cookies consumed that morning, but suffice it to say that for the remainder of the Christmas season, cookies and sweets had lost appeal to our digestive system.   Shall I say, we had had our fill!

To be honest about our consumption, I’d be quick to advise that regardless of the number of cookies we ate, because we saved our appetites for just this “cookie date,” we had less cookies overall than in most seasons.

And no, I wouldn’t use the term “pigged out”…..but we were hesitant to approach the scales for a week or two.

ENJOY COOKIES WITH A FRIEND!  The cookies may have some calories, but I hear they are half as many calories when shared over conversation with a dear friend.

Are you sometimes prone to think that if you are going to have coffee or dine with a friend that it must be at Starbucks, or a fancy restaurant?  Let me introduce you to a new location.   It won’t necessarily be fancy and the atmosphere may even leave a few things to be desired.  I can assure you that you won’t need to leave a tip, either coin or folded in style.    The dining area is “open seating” and the ambience is dependent upon your attitude.  The sky is the limit regarding the menu selection.   Can you guess where I might be describing?

First, let me introduce you to someone.  I was sitting in a church one Sunday and as I glanced around and behind me, a delightful looking woman was sitting behind me.   After my hello in her direction, a warm smile appeared from her countenance.   Then, another sweet surprise, she was from South Africa.   Her accent was captivating.   Our friendship began right there.   After the service we continued with our introductions, and I found her to be warm and loving.

Over the years, our families would get together for dinners.  Sometimes at our dining room table, or kitchen table.  Regardless of where we met, we just had fun.   I remember sharing with her that I was the type of friend who could enjoy a plain cheese sandwich just sitting on the curb with a friend.    I hoped she would catch on that I didn’t feel I was a “high maintenance” type of friend.

This lady would cry with me, laugh at my jokes (and I can assure you I’m not good at jokes), but what an encourager she was to my heart and walk with the Lord. 

She was going through a rough patch in her life, and I so wanted to be an encourager to her.   Our friendship was simple….it was just being together that mattered.   I’m convinced that’s the best type of friendships to have.  

Neither she nor I was “flushed in funds” for fine-dining at the time, so we’d often just share something at either of our kitchen tables.   It was all about just being together, never mind what was being deposited in our mouths. 

One day, as I recall, I felt she was a bit discouraged.   My mind went into gear as to how to bring a genuine chuckle and encouragement to my friend.   Ah, the Lord gave me an idea. 

I remember putting some sandwiches together and cutting them into tiny pieces and placing them on a small plate.   I just kept grabbing things I had in the fridge….from fruit to a piece of chocolate.  The last item I grabbed was a blanket.

Knowing how we both enjoyed “tea,” I invited my tea pot and some nice china cups to come along with me.   We were taking “lunch & tea” to my friend’s place. 

Did you notice I didn’t say “her home?”    This little “meals on wheels” excursion never made it inside her home.   I knocked on her door and invited her “out to lunch.”   I was quick to advise her that we wouldn’t be going far.   No, not far at all.   For I had laid out the blanket and items on the blanket just yards from her front door.

The dimension of my friend’s eyes grew when she saw the layout.   We must have sat there for almost two hours.   We never wondered what the neighbors thought because we were together just enjoying the presence of green grass, and the trees.   Even the birds were on assignment to sing a chorus of song for our entertainment.

We both still look back at the time we just paused from our routine and simply, very simply, met together.   I wanted her to know she was special to me and worth making a lunch for, adorning it on a blanket and enjoying her company. 

Yes, our lives can get busy.  Sometimes too busy.    It’s so easy to be “activity addicted.”    The pause that day still lingers in both our hearts, and continues to bring a smile when we remember the simple delights of life.

And no, it wasn’t a cheese sandwich.   But it could have been, and we couldn’t have cared less.

If you share your home address with me, I might pop over with a few things from my refrigerator….just for “us” to enjoy.

Each day we never know whose steps will interact with ours.  My joy and privilege was to greet people who come into our church.  This was such a delight for me.    I yearn that my life, in some small way, create a compelling environment to help people grow closer and deeper in their love and knowledge of Jesus Christ; and, to “be” the “tangible expression of Christ.”  Or, if they haven’t invited Him into their life and begun a real and personal relationship with Jesus, my desire is that they will want this to become reality for themselves.

My reference to joy in greeting people is due in part because in the manner in which I greeted each person, I had the opportunity to express to them, through a smile, a touch, or a word, that they are “significant to God.”  I wanted them to know before they ever sit down in the building, that they’re been touched by God’s love and acceptance.

A compass truth that God has been working into my life is this:

“After people spend time with me, what do they think of Jesus Christ?”

Often people will ask me how I can be so friendly to others when, in many instances, I’m usually the “new” person.  God spoke to my heart about this issue, because I’ve been the new person so much of my life, and in the many new life’s settings we’ve been placed in. But what has God impressed upon me when I walk into a new setting is:

“Dianne, leave yourself in the car!”

That’s the key.  And for greeting others on Sunday, I’m to leave myself (my fears, my agenda, my needs) in the car, and go in and “represent Jesus Christ” to every heart coming through the doors.

Each handshake can be a prayer for that person.   I noticed people  who momentarily lingered for a warm handshake, a smile, and an acknowledgement that they are so special to God.   He wants to welcome them, through little personal ways, letting them know that He is “so glad they are there.”

I want to share two encounters that have refreshed my heart as I practiced this practical outreach.

A number of years ago, I woke up one Sunday morning in a “not so good frame of mind.”  I just didn’t feel like “welcoming” this particular Sunday.    But, thanks to the Lord, I went anyway.   There was a widow who arrived at the front entrance of the church.   I always feel they need a special touch or a hug.  As this lady approached me this morning, I gave her a hug, and then, prompted within, pulled her close again for a longer embrace.   Afterwards she looked at me and said these words (please read them slowly):

“Dianne, I needed that extra hug this morning.  You are the only one who touches me all week.”

What an impact her words had on me that day.  We just never know the burdens, anxieties, cares and grief that are encased within the heart and soul of each person we meet.

Just recently, an opportunity to listen, really listen, came upon my life.   A man was coming toward the entry to our church lobby, and I noticed that another man had already said the normal hellos and how are you?    But what caught my attention was his comment:

“Do you really want to know?”

Our normal hellos aren’t always accurate, are they?  They can seem more like a statement than a question.   The two of them spoke for a short time and then he came toward me.    The week before he had shared that his precious Mom who had been hospitalized for many months and was not doing well.

I just knew in my heart, grief was overwhelming him.   I didn’t use those words, how are you this morning?  I just opened my arms and a flood of tears began to flow from him.    He continued pouring out his heart for over 30 minutes.   After he had gained some composure, I walked arm-in-arm through the corridors of the church towards the sanctuary, where the church service was well beyond the half way mark in time.

God had already prepared us both for our time together.  I was able to briefly share about the passing of my own mother and what I had felt from this loss.   I didn’t say much to this man, but my arms and tears embraced his hurt.  He told me later than he appreciated my walking “with him” in his heart-felt grief that morning.

If you’ve ever experienced “grief” you know, only too well, that there just aren’t sufficient or adequate words for a hurting heart.

May you and I be reminded that the next time we ask someone, “How are you?” that we stay around and listen, really listen to how they really are?

KINDNESS IS A LANGUAGE THAT THE DEAF CAN HEAR AND THE BLIND CAN SEE

When I look back on my life, it seems as if I’ve always been “on the move.”   I mean that!    My Dad was in the Air Force and most of us are aware of the ingredients in the life of a military family. If you have never had friends who were in the service, allow me a short introduction to “on-the-move” living.  

The branches of military service seem to take delight in shifting their inductees about every two years.   What that means to a home dweller is that when you get everything in place within your walls, make some good friends, know where most of the items are in your local grocery store and your physician actually recognizes you from your last appointment, and you have met many of your neighbors, IT’S TIME TO MOVE.

I’m chuckling as I write this and you may think I’m exaggerating, but it’s so close to the truth, it isn’t funny.   Where we currently live (notice I said currently), I had transplanted a large bush in the yard in front of the house.    A few weeks later I was outside taking an inventory-style look at my work.   This newly planted bush was sagging and looked very unhappy.   A neighbor appeared and made an incredible insightful observation.   She said that the bush looked dead.   I began to laugh out loud and responded that it wasn’t dead, it had been transplanted just a couple of weeks earlier and it was adjusting to its new environment.

People who have recently moved to a new location can sometimes look very tired, wilted and sagging in places.   Yes, we’ve all heard the phrase “bloom where you’re planted.”   But an ingredient in that phrase doesn’t discuss the pain of transition when your physical and emotional roots are torn away from one home location and planted in another. 

For people who know the number of “moving transitions” we have made, they would be the first to tell you that we owe them all a new address book.   But let me just say this:   we are experienced movers and ‘adjusting’ is our middle name.

However, this one move that we were anticipating to make, due to my husband’s work, was from Washington State to Southern California.    I will be quick to add that in all of our moves, we have never had a company or a mission pay for our moving.  

Yes, we are the ones you see bobbing up and down in those big yellow trucks on the highways and byways.   We’re not interested in the stock market, but if we were, we should have bought stock in Hertz Penske or U-Haul years ago.

One evening my husband invited me to sit down so we could talk.   From experience, I interpreted that to mean, this is going to be an important discussion.   The topic was our upcoming transition (notice I didn’t use the word ‘move’) to California.  

He was crafting together nice phrases prior to the release of his well-intentioned suggestion. “Let’s sell everything in the house, that way we won’t have the expense of moving it.”   I’m going to pause right now………………….and let that sink into your thinking.

We had done this “selling of everything” once before, and I was not on board this time.  He honored my response, but ask me to pray about it.   I think my husband realized that only God would be able to bring me around to change my mind on this idea. 

Now you may be wondering, what did I decide?  Was I okay with selling all the furniture?   In a word….NO.  

Time passed and we put the house on the market for sale.  People were coming and going within the interior of our home, but there were no offers.    Then one day our realtor phoned to tell me someone wanted to come and view our home and take a video so that he could show his wife the home as she was located on the other side of the United States.   I agreed that it would be no problem, and I thought it was a great idea for his wife’s benefit.

          The time for viewing our home was set for the following day.   I knew the ropes of showing a home, everything neat, counters cleared, vacuum as needed, and all the lamps were in the “on” position with personal photographs were removed for visual clarity.   Whenever I have the house in this distinct order and look around, I think to myself…..”Yes, I’d like to live here.” 

The doorbell rang and I greeted the realtor and her client.   He was very polite and all geared up with a video camera.   I exited the back door so as not to be exposed to this ‘house on parade’ video event.  I went around the house to the front door step and just sat there.   Time passed and then I was invited back inside my home for the pleasantries of the goodbye, and thanks for showing us your home routine.

The realtor sensed that the client wanted to talk privately with me, so she went to her car.  The client and I sat on the front steps.   He must have shared that he just wanted to ask me questions about the house and there was no need for the realtor to stay.

You need to gain your composure for the next sentence or two.  The anticipated buyer remarked that he liked the home and thought his wife would enjoy it as well.   He indicated that he would be paying CASH!    As we were both Christians, and he asked me to pray about the bottom-line figure that we would be happy with as the selling price, and he and his wife would do the same.

I was quietly gasping for air on all this information when he made just one more inquiry.   That was:   “what are you going to do with all your furniture?”   That response required little thought.   We’re going to move it with us.  Dahhh!!!    His next comment brought my jaw to the cement.   “I’d like to buy everything in the house.”  W h a t???   What do you mean by everything?   He said all the furniture, lamps, computer, telephone, even some pictures.  

It seemed laughable, but I felt like God was wanting us to do this, but I had said no to my husband; so the bigger guns were in on this.  What would I say now?    I could hardly get my tongue around the word “yes.”    I couldn’t believe that it came out of my mouth.

After this verbal agreement, we had some laughs and lighter conversation.   He knew that my husband wasn’t home at the time, but wanted to talk with him further about our discussion.  Believe me, I wanted to talk about it too.

The prospective buyer was about to say goodbye when I invited him for dinner later in the evening, and he could speak with us both about his offer, or should I say offers.   We agreed on a time, and off he went.  Just before entering his car, I remember vividly him saying to me that he was serious about his cash offer and not to worry.  

Isn’t this just something the Lord would say to one of his children!!!!   He then handed me his business card.   My eyes fell immediately on the town….NAZARETH, PA.    Yes, the Lord’s ways are mysterious, and sometimes hilarious.

Within about thirty minutes I heard the garage door open and Mr. Husband was about to have the surprise of his life.    He usually would ask if anything was new.    NEW?!!    This time I asked him to be seated, and I told him that I had just received a cash offer for the house as well.  

Now it was time for his jaw to drop southward.  He couldn’t believe it.  Then I went into tears.   The tears were the seal of the deal, he knew this was no joke.

I proceeded to tell him about our new dinner plans and the need to pray about the amount we would sell the house for, and to discuss what furniture we would be willing to sell.   Now recalling back to the first few paragraphs about our discussion on whether to sell the furniture…….he couldn’t believe I said yes to this perfect stranger.   To be honest, I felt as though God used this man to approach me with the offer.

That afternoon we prayed about the amount we would be happy with.  We knew our bottom line price and yet we wanted to be fair with this man. 

I don’t even remember putting dinner together that afternoon.  This man arrived at our front door that evening, and from the moment he stepped in the door, conversation was as though we had been friends for years.   We talked about many things and towards the end of the evening; yes, I mean end of the evening, we finally got around to the price of the house and the furniture.  

When the amounts that each of us agreed to do the deal for the house were shared, unbelievably both we and the buyer came up with the “same financial figure.” 

Then the topic went to the furniture.   We all arose from the table to walk around the house and look at the items he wanted.   He wanted it ALL!     Yes, even the old grill outside.   The only things we took were what was in the cupboards and our clothes.   I think he’d have bought the dog and cat if they were available.

By now, are you gasping for air?  This is a true story and my heart is rejoicing again in what God did and how He orchestrated all of these events.   The buyer and his wife were thrilled, and my husband and I were beyond happy.    

A month or so later, this family moved from Pennsylvania into our home.    Within weeks my husband was out of the country, and knowing about his trip away, they asked me for dinner one evening.    While on the telephone, I inquired as to how they were settling in.   They were in and settled in less than two weeks.    We all laughed because they shared that they left the furniture in the exact location as I had placed it, so all they and their children had to do was put their clothes away, and place food and dishes in the cupboards.  They shared that it was the easiest move they’d ever made.  Well I should say so.

When this prearranged evening arrived and I entered my “former dwelling place” I could hardly hold back the tears.   Memories we had built in that home were flooding my heart.  They even took me around to show me the place, as if I required a tour.  

It was a process of releasing what we had enjoyed to another family to continue building memories of their own and to enjoy the provision of the Lord.

Lesson here for me:   we really don’t own what’s in our homes, we are just the caretakers of what the Lord has allowed us to enjoy and use for Him.

Do you have a “mentor?”   I have had many wonderful people who have mentored me in my life as a woman, wife, friend, and follower of Jesus Christ.   The dictionary beautifully shares what it means to be a mentor.

Mentor:  a wise and trusted friend, coach, counselor, adviser, an influential supporter

My husband and I were married only about a year when this lovely lady at our church invited me to have lunch with her in her home.   I didn’t know her well at all, but I must admit that I admired her from afar.   One feature I loved about this sweetheart of a woman is that she was consistently friendly and inclusive to anyone who was in her presence.  She had a unique ability to make you feel as though you were the only one on earth present when she was around you.

Soon after my husband and I were married, we moved to Calgary, Alberta, Canada.   This was a new culture to me, and I did my best to absorb the new and somewhat different way of doing things.  

This special couple had my husband and I to their home many times to lavishly enjoy her “creative talents” from the kitchen.  This one day though, she invited me for lunch.  Just me.  I clarify that because she was accustomed to having large numbers of guests for lunch or dinner.   All of the gatherings at their home were fun, just plain fun.  She had the ability to serve bread and butter as though it was a delicacy. 

This invitation to lunch by this new, and soon-to-be-friend, was much anticipated.    I arrived at the door (it was a COLD day) and as I entered, I practically fell into arms of acceptance and joyful laughter.   The smile of her greeting and the warm hug brought an inner warmth I shall never forget.

She angled me in the doorway and to the right.   This little bedroom hosted coats, purses and the sweaters of visitors who came by.   I remember just being lost in the sweetness of the room.   It was like visiting a country boutique.  Dolls, flowers and antique-like nick knacks were creatively placed all over the room.  Honestly, I could have browsed there for 15 minutes just taking in the ambiance and beauty of the room.  It was delightful.

After taking off my coat and receiving another hug, we entered the living room.  I can still remember the radiant warmth of the carpet under my feet and the emerald green color.   The fireplace was in full roar and then ……………..there it was.    A small table draped in a gorgeous white-lace like tablecloth.    It was adorned with fine china, stemmed water glasses, lit candles, and silverware that seemed to sparkle.   The serviette/napkin was so pretty, I hesitated to unfold this masterpiece.

Now I’ve been over to many a home for lunch, but believe me, this table arrangement and the placement in front of the fireplace was fit for a “queen.”

I could barely respond to our introductory chit-chat from gazing around the room.   Above the fireplace was a long shelf hosting dozens of framed photographs of her family.   They were attractively laced side by side.

She invited me to sit down and be warmed up by the fire as she would soon be bringing in lunch.   When I was growing up, my sister and I were never allowed to eat in the living room.   (And we all know why, don’t we!)    So this “dining decor” was an incredible way to say I love you, and don’t worry if you drop something on the carpet. 

Approaching me from her kitchen was a tray of delights.  There was a selection of about three tea sandwiches, with fruit and scones.  Everything was attractively “arranged” on the plate.   My, it was as if Better Homes and Gardens had requested the display. 

A lunch experience from my kitchen would be placing egg salad, lunch meat, or cheese between two slices of bread.  We refer to that as a sandwich.  But to my friend, this was more than just a sandwich, it was a time to enjoy every morsel of the ingredients that were carefully arranged between the slices of bread.

I noticed right away that she had stripped the crust off each piece of bread and delicately placed a variety of fillings on the runway of the smooth-textured bread.  Even the fruit had a special touch.  I could imagine her conversing with the strawberry to get its permission to be sliced ever-so-gently at an angle.  Can I assume you’d be interested in having lunch with her at this point of my story?

As I was relaxing in this exquisite spot, I couldn’t help but notice the fireplace blazing with joy.  I say joy because my friend was oozing with joy as she shared how special it was for her….that I was there with her.  Believe me, the joy was all mine.

We must have sat there for almost two hours.  I couldn’t count the number of cups of tea.  We chatted and laughed the entire time.  I never remembered being invited anywhere where everything was just so delicately chosen and arranged….just for me.

I felt so honored, pampered, and special.  She had this gift of making someone feel as though they were the most precious person on earth.  She certainly wasn’t without family responsibility because she was the mother of three children and busy in the lives of many other people.

But today, was “my day,” specially planned by her so I would know and feel God’s love and her love too.  She was given the “gift of hospitality” by the Lord:  that goes without saying.   As wonderful as lunch was, the real gift was that this afternoon she was giving “herself away” by creating a simple spot in her living room, in front of the fireplace to have fun and conversation with a new friend, me. 

Her presence, laughter, acceptance, love and loving conversation made me feel like royalty.    One aspect of note about the conversation was that she spoke very little about herself.   She wanted to know all about me, who I was, what I enjoyed doing, how my life was being lived.    

Her approach in our dialogue was so inviting and accepting.   When she spoke of others, it was surrounded and bathed in kindness.   Her laughter was contagious.   I always thought that if she had to correct me in any way, that I’d hardly realize it because of the tenderness that would encompass her every word.   I dared not make a comment about how lovely something was, I believe, or she’d have given it to me.

This delightful lady encouraged me to just have “fun with another”…..with no agenda, other than to show others how special they are!     You don’t have to have fine china to do that.   She taught me that I can put together two pieces of bread, cut out shapes, or tear away the crusts, and place absolutely anything between them.   Because it’s not the selection of the cuisine that makes a lovely luncheon, but the love of the Lord, laughter, and a little table simply adorned with a tablecloth and placed in front of a fireplace, or window.  She was so loving and caring to me that I think I’d have enjoyed lunch even in her bathroom.

I must digress for a moment and share one more area of her home environment before winding up this encounter.  Every room in her home had “her touches of simplistic elegance.”   At other times at a later date, when my husband and I were in her home, I would enjoy disappearing to their restroom.  Yes, their bathroom was a place for lots of things, and rest was one of them.

She would have an arrangement of little pictures of her family, towels uniquely folded like gifts, various shapes of soaps, and dishes of hand lotions.   They were all gifts for anyone to enjoy while they were “resting” in that location.

Back to lunch around the fireplace……………I know that this little table served a host of many young women.  I can only imagine the number of young women who were invited to dine in front of this woman’s fireplace and feel the love of the Lord through many a quiche or sandwiches placed before them.

This beautiful friend’s life then and now continues to love me in special ways.  We no longer live in Calgary, but her loving calls every so often, brighten my spirit.   This dear one will always hold a precious mentoring spot in my life. 

 She taught me that crackers and cheese and a “cuppa tea” around any size table make others feel special.

She, along with many other women, demonstrated to me in many and diverse means by which I can show others how unique and special they really are!

How thankful I am to God for weaving this wise and winsome woman along my life’s journey.  She is so gifted in the skill of practical love and outreach, and my life is richer for it.  

Thank you Anne for showing me the love, kindness and generosity of our Lord Jesus.    You are one SPECIAL WOMAN….and a lovely forever friend.

When you frequent a place, don’t you find that you gravitate to the same area sometimes, perhaps even the same row of seats?  And perish the thought if someone else should occupy “your seat” before your arrival. 

This was a delightful, but cool, Sunday morning in October.   One of my favorite joys was about to commence….greeting people at the church we attended.   I preferred waiting with my body perched between the door and the outside air.   My reasoning for this stance was due to the briskness in the air, and I felt reluctant to bring my body temperature down so early in the morning.   

Yes, you can stand inside and wait until people enter the building; but I feel it’s important that people see that you are welcoming in your approach to others and that you enjoy greeting them. 

This new opportunity to welcome came only a month after attending, and I was trying to learn names and recognize faces each week.   But I found that even if I couldn’t remember a name, I was becoming familiar with the face.   In this big world, remembering “faces” can make others feel important and welcome.

The parking lot was buzzing with people arriving for the morning service.   Hugs and conversations were in full swing, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a small yellow and white bus pull up to the curb.   There was a pause when the driver parked the bus and came around to the exit door.   I was a fare distance away, but I could determine that there was a woman moving slowly toward the steps to exit the bus.  

There she appeared!  A small statured lady with lovely white hair, dressed so neatly appeared at the top of the stairs waiting for her verbal instruction and a caring hand to help her down the four steps.   I heard the faint verbal count of each step as the driver was audibly accompanying her down the steps to the waiting pavement below. 

This lovely woman was escorted, arm-in-arm, by the young bus driver toward the door of our church.   I’m reminded often that the Lord directs our steps, and the steps of others that come across our path.

There was no hesitation for me to approach them and ask if I could be of some help.  Somewhere in the brief conversation, I was informed that she was partially blind and needed help to be guided and seated in the sanctuary.   This was such a pleasant lady and I was only too happy to escort her to the nearest entry door.

As we approached the auditorium, we exchanged pleasantries and I found her simply delightful.  We proceeded to an appropriate aisle toward the back where she could be seated, and an usher noticed our entry.  I asked him to watch carefully when the service was over, and to be sure and help this fine lady to the exit door to wait for the bus to pick her up and take her back to her home.  He was most agreeable.  After introducing them, I assured her that he would take care of escorting her out of the seat and back to the entrance to the church.

Sometime after the service as I was leaving, I noticed her again by the exit door.  She was sitting on a ledge by the window peering out the window and watching for that nice yellow and white bus.

It was a pleasure to see her again: and oddly enough I felt strangely drawn to her.  Many people were passing by her as they were leaving, but she seemed all alone.

Just before leaving the building I asked how she was as I wanted to make sure that she was being picked up soon.  With a warm smile, she assured me the bus driver would be there soon and take her back to her place of residence.   

I introduced myself as the woman she met when she first arrived.  “What is your name?” I asked.  I could tell that she was happy to have been asked.  Her name is Caroline and this was her first Sunday visiting our church.  

It was my pleasure to assure her that I would be looking for her next week and I would be delighted to see to it that I would help her find a seat and have her cared for each Sunday.   She seemed very happy about that.

Now think about this for a moment.  “If you were partially blind and you visited a church and no one greeted you or cared for your seating needs, would you return?”   How would you and I feel in a foreign setting with hundreds of others passing by without a word being said to you?   How would you find your way out?  How awkward and frightening that would be.    I sometimes get nervous visiting places I’ve never been, and I can see why.   But what if I were blind?   Frightened wouldn’t come close to describe my inner fears. 

I find it incredible how God places people and situations right in front of us, trusting us, if I can use that word, to care for and look after them.   This first encounter was meant to be.

The following Sunday, about twenty minutes before the service, the yellow and white bus pulled up to the curb, and the driver circled around to help this sweet lady off the bus.   This Sunday was different however.   My feet couldn’t mobilize fast enough to arrive at the bus steps.   I called out her name to welcome her back to church. 

My plans were to walk arm-in-arm with her right to the area where she sat “last week.”  God had “other plans.”   Amazing how we can have set ideas of how events are going to go and then, the Sovereign God interrupts those plans.   

Arm-in-arm we began our approach to where she was sitting last week; yet something within me would not allow that to happen.   I asked if she would like to sit with my husband and me in another location, and she seemed only too pleased and somewhat relieved with that offer.

So we walked a little further than the previous week to the area where my husband and I normally sat.   The rest is history!   Every Sunday morning it is as if she prances off that bus like a queen.   She’s now bringing her walker, which increases her speed limit and freedom. At 93 years of age she’s so good at maneuvering her walker, I wonder if she was into race-car driving in her earlier years. 

I parked her walker at the back of the sanctuary wall, and we then proceed, our arms clutched together down a few aisles to where we sit….together. At the end of the service, I move her walker close by and we leave just a moment or two before all the other 300 people exit. 

We’ve added a “refreshing delight” after exiting the auditorium doors.    Caroline and her mobile-wheeled helper move with me in the direction of the donuts and coffee urns.   I make the indulgent plunge for the cups and get pouring as Caroline, with glee munches on a donut. 

Our next stop is to return to the entry door waiting for the little yellow and white bus to take her home.   Her walker has a fold out seat and provides her a comfortable way to sit and enjoy her liquid refreshment before boarding the bus.    

People have begun noticing her arrival and departures each Sunday; but it isn’t her walker and fragile frame they’re drawn to.   It’s her smile and laughter and singing all the way to the front door.   Whatever the last hymn or praise chorus we’ve sung that morning, that’s our theme to coffee and out the front door.

I love it when others stop and introduce themselves to her.  Slowly she’s getting acquainted with others and beginning to feel at home.

KINDNESS IS A LANGUAGE THAT THE DEAF CAN HEAR AND THE BLIND CAN SEE.

Caroline

It was the Christmas season and I was asking the Lord what type of activities we should be creating to celebrate Him.   My husband and I have never resided around family, so we’ve adopted and invited many a dear one to join us in celebrations over the years.   We gather them from church or our neighborhood and even people we’ve recently been introduced to.  

This particular year we wanted to have friends and soon-to-be-friends over for dinner on Christmas Day.   To be honest, I have such a wonderful time preparing for occasions like this; it almost gives me as much enjoyment as when the people arrive.   I think it’s called “enthusiastic anticipation.”  

I wanted the table to be lovely and the atmosphere filled with God’s joy and love for all those who gathered round.   We had decided on everyone to invite; and felt that about eight people would arrange comfortably around our table.  This year I didn’t want to invite too many, as we wanted time to interact with each person.    The total was seven!   But about six weeks before Christmas, I sensed the Lord nudging me to invite “just one more.”   This ‘one more’ was the elderly father of one of our guests.  

God pointed out to my heart that this man needed to be around people because this was the first Christmas that he would be alone for that holiday without his wife who had passed away some months earlier. 

My heart wasn’t completely on board for this additional person.  I mentally indicated that I had never met the man and I was truly wondering if he would fit in with everyone else who would be  there.  

I realize it was a terrible thought, but I’m being honest here.   I’ve learned a long time ago that it’s a good thing to think about who you’re wanting to gather in your home.  The reasoning behind it is that we invited a number of “shy and somewhat introverted people” for dinner one time and my husband and I had to carry on almost all of the dialogue.   So it’s a good thing to invite different personalities so that everyone will feel comfortable and included.

The most pressing hesitation was that I had never met this person and was wondering how to sensitively “love” this man who had lost his wife just months before.  I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or out of place.   But let’s be really honest here, I didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable either.  As you can see, I was the hindrance here and I felt so ashamed.

My heart remained unsettled as I knew that we just had to invite this man.  We had invited his daughter to come; and did I mention she was his only daughter.   It was appropriate to have her father as well, especially at this time of year and where he was finding himself in a new place emotionally.

It was time to make that important telephone call, and no, a “text would not do.”  I phoned our friend and asked if her father was available on Christmas day to come and spend the day with us.

Available???!!!!!   Are you kidding, he was all alone.   I shared with her that we would love to have her father if he’d feel comfortable in coming and if had no prior plans.

It didn’t take an hour to find that he was more than available to come and join his daughter on their first Christmas together without a mother and wife present.  I shared with her that we’d be honored to have him come and the dress was casual and we had a comfy chair close by so he could enjoy an afternoon nap after dinner, if he would wish for that.   

The only hesitation that he had was that “he didn’t know anyone” except his daughter and I wondered honestly, if he would feel comfortable.   His precious daughter, our friend, assured him he would be well loved and well looked after.

Weeks passed and Christmas day arrived.  You could cut the excitement in my heart and kitchen with a knife.  It was glorious.  Table was set the day before and all the goodies to eat were full in preparation.  The only event left was the arrival of our guests and a new-found friendship.

Everyone was arriving, and the laughter and hugs began.   Then came that special moment when our friend arrived with her beloved Dad.  Whatever nervousness I had previously slipped away the instant I saw him.   He was greeted with big smiles and a big hug.   “We’re so pleased you could come!”    He just oozed with enthusiasm and smiles.    He made my day before he even sat down at the dinner table.

How could we have had Christmas dinner and NOT invite this dear one.  God had special plans for this young 93 year old youthful man.   Everyone at the table made him feel special.  He was the star of the show!   We opened our little “Christmas crackers;” you know, the ones where there is a little gift inside and those funny, abundantly loud in color paper hats.

Yes, we made everyone wear those paper hats that day.  It was a kaleidoscope of color! The meal went on for several hours and after the meal, we just remained at the table.   As hours had passed  I quietly mentioned the “comfortable chair” that was available in case he would enjoy a little shut-eye from the laughter and talking.  You know, “resting your eyelash” time.

Are you kidding!?   He would have nothing to do with the chair.  He didn’t want to miss a thing.   After everyone quieted down and tummies were full, one by one people began feeling it was time to return to their homes for some relaxation.

We walked each guest to the door and parted with joy and sadness that everyone was leaving.   Our 93 year young guest was the first to leave with his daughter, both arm in arm.   The entire group at the table went to the door to say their farewells with hugs and kisses his way.   Honestly, you would have thought he was our guest of honor.

Both he and his daughter thanked us profusely for the wonderful time they experienced.   Honestly, everyone enjoyed each other, but for this man, he was meant to be loved in warm and heartfelt ways that day.

Our friend, the daughter of this man, thanked us over and over and over throughout the months for including her father.   She shared with us that this was an over-the-top Christmas for him.  He felt so at home, loved and comfortable with everyone.   A year went by and another Christmas.   But by this time, the Lord had moved us to another place, over a thousand miles away, so we couldn’t have these people over for dinner this year.  

But the weeks before this new Christmas season, guess who phoned to tell us again that her Dad’s experience that day was incredible!  She too had needed to be with people who would love on her that emotionally-empty Christmas day following the loss of her mother.

My heart is set on inviting people who don’t have family around because their hearts need a special touch of love and companionship.  This man was a gift to not only my heart, but to everyone’s heart that was there.

Oh the regular need for a reminder to invite strangers and allow their presence to enlarge our hearts and lives.   We’ll be richer for it, I know mine was.

It was an ordinary day and part of my ordinary day was escorting   our two little furry critters, Chelsea and Winnie, to the tranquil park behind our home.   I knew by the dogs’ behavior that morning they were getting restless and waiting for their walk.   It brings a chuckle to my heart when I recognize that the dogs get our routine down to a science and by their calculation the “outing to the park” was about an hour over-due.

I gathered their leashes, and picked up their ball, and off we went.  The park is bordered by a wide paved path that surrounds the entire walkway.  This last season, the park had been fenced off with a 7’ high fence-enclosure in the center part of the park.  

Our destination was the far corner of the park.   This particular corner is fenced in for those to play basketball on a properly paved court.   That fenced in area is always our focus at the end of our walks, because I can turn the dogs loose without worry of them running off somewhere, and we can freely play ball. 

Our blonde Pomeranian adored that part of the park, and so did I, because I could toss the ball and watch her wear herself out retrieving it.   Her stamina to retrieve is up to 22 retrievals of the bright orange ball.  It’s so bright a color, you could spot it a good distance away and seldom was her ball not in her sight.

This morning we rounded the last area of the lap around the park, and as I glanced over to the fenced in court area, I noticed that a young Chinese lad was practicing his basketball skills.   He was occupying our “get the ball, Winnie” court area.   I know the court doesn’t have our name on it; but honestly, we’re there daily, around the same time; so others should recognize our commitment to that play time.

We even slowed our approach, thinking perhaps this young man would be tired of playing basketball by himself.   But no, he remained at his playing post.   By this time I began to think creatively.    This little Pomeranian needed exercise!  Knowing she wouldn’t leave her ball, I began to toss the ball and she’d run as fast as her little 3” high legs would take her to grab that ball in her mouth, and then roll it towards me so we could continue the “ball” game. 

Things were going along quite nicely until I over-extended my pitching arm and the projectile of the ball took it right over the seven foot high fence.  This fence was about seven feet high.   I went over to the area and it didn’t take me long to figure out that I was not going to be able to get the ball.   The fun and games were over.

I paused, and thought perhaps the young boy would see me and our “ball dilemma”, but no, he continued playing oblivious to our need of assistance.  Realizing this ball was not coming home with us, and Winnie was not a happy camper, so I figured we might as well head back home.   She gave me such a mournful look, but there was no way I was going to attempt to hike over that fence myself.

This ball was not just an ordinary ball.  It was an indestructible one, and for our little blondie, this was important. 

I was just about to vacate the area and head home, when God brought a Scripture verse to my mind.   It was Proverbs 3: verses 5 & 6…..”Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not to your own understanding.  In ALL YOUR WAYS, ACKNOWLEDGE HIM and He SHALL DIRECT YOUR PATH.”

About this time, you may be wondering how this verse fits in to the ball-over-the-fence scenario.   I just love it that the Lord wants to be involved in all our activities and that He does delight in the “details of our lives.”    There’s no stipulation as to the type of activity.

So, right then and there, I had the option of returning home or, the thought entered my mind to pray, and just ask God to help me get that $8 orange ball back where it belonged….in my hand.   

I was still not physically prepared to hike the fence, but the fact remained that I ‘asked God to help me.’  I think if Winnie was human, she would have barked a loud “amen” at the request. 

The thought came to me to walk around the park again.   I wasn’t thinking of the walls of Jericho at the time, but all I knew was that I had asked for God’s help, and another walk around the park gave Him time to come up with His reply.

In our circle around the park, I found a 6’ piece of bark from a tree.   I thought, this is God’s answer.  Ten minutes later we’re coming around the bend where the young man was still bouncing balls in the net.   I approached the fence with my “answer to prayer stick.”  I poked the stick through the fence to where the ball was laying, but my reach was two feet short of the location of the ball.  

Just as I was pulling the stick out of the fenced area, I felt someone approaching us.  You’ll never believe it.   It was the young basketball player.   He had noticed us and came over.

It was obvious from the start that he could not speak a word of English and I couldn’t communicate in Mandarin to him.   But by his facial expression and flaying arms, he told me he would climb over the fence and get the ball.

Before I could take a breath, he was over the fence, got the ball and with electric speed hiked his young, athletic body back over the fence.   Winnie was dancing with excitement and enthusiasm as only a little Pomeranian can do, and I was dancing inside with joy myself thanking the Lord for His intervention in such a “small matter.”  What a lesson!

You’d better sit down now for the rest of the story! 

The young Chinese boy was about sixteen. After passing the ball over to Winnie, he came right over to me.  I was so over-joyed….and my body language must have indicated that I wanted to give him a hug.  He approached me with his arms extended and gave me a long hug…..a hug like he’d give his mother.  I hugged him back with enthusiasm as well.   Young Chinese boys customarily do not behave in that manner, especially to strangers.

“Lord, how do I say thank you to this young guy in Mandarin?”  Moments seemed like hours, then my mind kicked in gear, “Xie Xie.”   I shouted out a Mandarin thank you and his eyes grew big as giant marbles.   I wanted him to know I was so appreciative of his kindness.  

The young man went back to the court to continue playing and we took off for home.   I only know a few phrases in Mandarin, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember “thank you.”

And all the way home I was thanking God for His kindness and provision at the park through a perfect stranger.   God is so kind and so aware of our every step and every dilemma.  

I’ll never get over how God delights to share our days and “ordinary ways” with us.