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!!

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.