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.

This story will bring tears to my eyes because my heart will recall the precious friend God delivered to me one day in a big yellow passenger van.  I will share our introduction to each other in a later story.  We enjoyed friendship with one another for only a short season, about a year and a half; but they were” divinely orchestrated” days filled with eternal memories.

On our introduction, my friend shared that she was legally blind; and at our first encounter she wanted me to know that she was unable to see me with clarity, and would always require my help in guiding her steps along the way.  She had marvelous maneuverability with her “walker,”  and I always made sure I kept in step with her or she would be way out in front of me.  

Each Sunday morning I would await her arrival at church via a taxi bus that would bring her to the curb.  She would gleefully exit the steps with the help of the driver, and then I would soon call out her name to let her know I was waiting for her.

After our friendship was sealed, from time to time I would phone to check up on her.  We just felt so “at home” with each other.  One day I phoned to surprise her with the announcement and invitation to join me for breakfast at a fast food restaurant called Tim Hortons.   In her 90 plus years of life, she had never been to this restaurant, nor had she ever tasted an egg and sausage croissant (one of life’s little pleasures).

In my event book (my calendar) I knew this social outing needed to happen and soon, so a day and a time was chosen.  She wasn’t hard to locate at the assisted living facility she lived in.   She was there waiting front and center in the lobby standing beside her walker beaming with anticipation for this up and coming “breakfast surprise.”  All through the time it took her to gleefully consume that egg and sausage croissant, she managed a smile from ear-to-ear.

About a year later our times together were at a nursing home to where she had been moved due to a fall she had taken in her apartment at the assisted living facility.   Her room was very sparse, with only a few photos and a cherished quilt that covered her tiny frame.    Our weekly visits were precious and joy filled and we enjoyed being together either in her room, or out on the patio in the sunshine. 

Week after week we would talk together about her wishes for a really “nice” room.   Her name was on the waiting list, but it would be months before that move was about to take place.   But we made it a matter of prayer.

Each month she seemed to grow weaker and less interested in her “room request.”   But over a cup of coffee, we’d laugh and chat and exchange a big hug at the end of our time together.   She never complained.

Then the big day came!   Upon arrival I was informed that she was in her “new” room.  It was clean and fresh, and her whole being was enjoying the filtered sunshine that glistened into her new room.    Today my visit was different…..and she was different.    She knew someone was there, but I wasn’t sure that she knew that it was me.   

Touching another tenderly is a wonderful kindness to give someone, especially if they can’t bring you into focus.   Her eyes were dim and so was her countenance.    I thought to myself, “What can I do?”   It turned into a prayer.   I took hold of her hands and just held them, and told her that I was there and she wasn’t alone. 

I asked if she wanted anything…..and her quick response embraced my favorite Scripture.    She said she wanted water.   I went over to a refrigerator for ice and prepared a cold glass of water and inserted a straw.   Gently holding the straw to her mouth, she inhaled the glass of water and asked for more.  

She managed a gracious smile and then shared the sweetest encouragement a soul could hear.

“Thanks for being here, and being my friend.”

We just held hands while our hearts connected in spirit.   My heart just knew that this would be my last opportunity to minister to my sweet friend: and to do so in the fashion of my favorite verse:

“And whoever gives one of these little ones only a cup of cold water in the name of a disciple, assuredly, I say to you, he shall by no means lose his reward.”  Matthew 10:42

Her friendship rewarded my heart many times, and yet I had no idea that this last “gift of refreshment” given to her, would embrace a verse I loved and cherished.    A few days later, God took her home to be with Him…..in her “new room” prepared just for her.  He not only answered her prayer for a new “earthly room” but He gifted her with His presence, in her new eternal home.

I’ve discovered that God notices, uses, and blesses every tiny outreach to others.   A glass of cold water is odorless, colorless and tasteless; yet it brings a refreshment like none other.

God “gifts our lives” with other people for a myriad of reasons and for special seasons.   May we all be encouraged to be sensitive and alert to the “cups of cold water opportunities” God brings to accompany our walk in life.

Our words “to others” and “about others” are so important.  I’d venture to say they are life changing!

Proverbs 18:21  “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”

This scenario happened many years ago.  I was a junior in high school at the time.    Summer break had come to an end and the other half of my high school years was about to commence.

I found myself lodged in a second year Spanish class.  I came to this choice figuring that if I made it through one year of Spanish, I could attempt another year.   That was a wrong assumption.   The teacher appeared shortly after the students were seated and began waxing eloquent in Spanish.   Now in that we had all taken a year of Spanish, this man assumed that we all had made straight A’s in his class and could now communicate fluently in his native tongue.

The horror of this story is that I remained in his class for almost six weeks before I had the courage to admit that I barely understood a word said in his class.    It wasn’t rocket science for me to determine that I needed to abandon this language tuition, and embark on another course of study.

Ah, shorthand!   In thinking ahead for my future employment, I assumed that being able to take shorthand could prove to be a real plus in the secretarial field.     

I tried graciously to admit that language wasn’t my forte and so I signed up for a shorthand class with Miss May.    When I entered this class she was very receptive of me which immediately endeared me to her.   The challenge was…..I was now six weeks behind all the other shorthand students.  

Somehow in the discovery of realizing her new student was six weeks behind the others.  This “kind and patient” teacher agreed to stay after class each day to try and bring me up-to-speed (and I mean that literally) on the basics of Gregg shorthand.

Amazingly, after about six weeks of this after-school study and instruction time, I was now in sync with the other students.  I’m not saying I was the brightest by a long shot, but at least I was now participating in the same chapter in the book as the rest of the class.

Ah, first year of shorthand was over.   This was a teacher that made learning a joy.   That deserves recognition right off the bat, doesn’t it?

Miss May would take us on field trips and fun events.  I recall that our class spent an evening in her apartment making taffy.  She was a teacher who became a friend and a mentor, all in one.  No wonder everyone enjoyed her class and her approach to teaching.   She made learning “fun.” 

Summer break was over and it was back-to-school for my senior year.   In that I so enjoyed Miss May’s class, I decided to enlist for a second year of shorthand.    Miss May married during that summer, following the school recess, we now  addressed this beautiful woman by her new name.

As we entered her class, I sat at the far wall, second row.   Funny the things we remember!   She not only taught shorthand, she taught good posture as well.   I know that, because so often she would meander by my desk, requesting me to sit up straight and pull my shoulders back.   She still comes to mind when I’m attentive to my posture.

You know, no one ever corrected my posture before, but I discovered you sure appear more confident in appearance if you’re sitting up straight, not to mention the appreciation of your vertebrae.

I wanted to write about this dear person, because she was the first person that I can remember in my life who ever gave me a WORD OF ENCOURAGEMENT.    

I can’t recall all the details of our work assignment in class, but we were asked one day to write a business letter, using the right punctuation, salutation, complimentary closing, date, etc.   You know, a real official-like letter.    Every student submitted their letters in class on the specified day.   

She must have been very busy that night, because the following day she came to class with our “letter-writing efforts” in hand complimented by her assigned grades in the upper right-hand corner.  If my memory serves me right, she employed a “red” marking pen, so that her comments and grade evaluation were boldly captured.  

I think (?) I got an A.   Her comments that appeared at the top of my letter and her words are forever etched in my mind and in my heart:

          Dianne, you have a flair for letter-writing!

That sentence changed my life!!!   Can you believe it?   You see, the way I was raised I didn’t receive any verbal encouragement, and often I felt as though I would never amount to much.    This phrase, written at the top of my typed business letter, reflected the fact that this teacher could see “potential” in me.

Towards the end of the year, the business academia of the school were going to present awards.   One award to be given was entitled the most “Outstanding Achievement Award. “             

The high school students were gathered for this event in the school gym.   I remember positioning myself at the top section of the bleachers as I confidently knew that my name would not be heard resounding through the PA system in the auditorium.   But I was comfortable and ready to enthusiastically applaud whoever was chosen.

I did notice that one of my classmates from the shorthand class had positioned herself on the bottom row of bleachers, the most convenient row you might say for easy access to receive an award if your name was called.  She received straight A’s if I remember correctly.   She was a very bright student.   My assumption is that she had probably figured out that she would be chosen, and so positioned herself in that convenient location.

Several awards were presented, and then the moment came when the name of the recipient was to be announced for the achievement award.   MY NAME was announced!   I could hardly believe it.   I think friends seated around me had to confirm it to me, and move me out of my comfortable position  at the top of the auditorium so I could get down the twenty or more rows to receive the award.

I was given the award and $100.   I’m still amazed.   But let me share what was more meaningful than the plaque and the $l00.   It was the fact that this teacher believed in me, and that she felt that “my life had potential.”   How was I to know that she thought my life had any potential in the business sphere if she hadn’t told me in writing on my first attempt at a business letter?

This isn’t the end of the story.   We became friends after I got out of high school, and we have remained friends to this day.  I will always “cherish her” as an encourager personified!   Why? Because she took the time to let me know that my efforts and skills were beginning to blossom, and that I had potential.

I’m not the best with writing or authorship, but what’s really important is that she affirmed me in an area in which God was working and preparing me.

Who in your life needs YOUR WORD OF ENCOURAGEMENT?

Let’s all keep a perceptive eye on the potential in others….and then, be sure and communicate that to them.  

Our words can serve as a CONSTRUCTION ZONE or a DEMOLITION SITE!

Proverbs 18:21  “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”

Proverbs 16:21  “The wise in heart will be called prudent, and sweetness of the lips increases learning.”

My husband and I were living in the Southeast part of the United States where we were on staff of a rather large church.   This particular  church was hosting some kind of dinner evening, and being on staff, we were automatically included on the guest list. 

Personally, I’m not fond of head tables.  At this particular event, there were many guests invited and the seating arrangement was assigned in advance.   When we arrived and I viewed the scattering of place cards, my heart groaned within knowing we were seated at the “display table.”  I hope you’re on the same page of humor as I am, and recognize that I’m describing the “head table.”

Quietly I asked the Lord if He was sure He wanted us at that table and that specific location.   People began arriving and scurrying toward their assigned seats.  Within a few moments, a lady came to the area where our name cards were placed, and she began rearranging the cards as though they were on skates.   It appeared as though four cards were being moved to a new location.

By now, I’m beginning to think the Lord has something in mind.   My eyes kept a keen lookout as to where we were moving to.   And yes, we were still at the head table.  The event was about to commence, so we positioned our bodies at the appropriate and assigned seating arrangement.

My heart wasn’t happy, but as time passed I began to recall that the Lord directs our “steps…..and our stops”…….and where He is determining us to sit at events.    It wasn’t long before a pleasant conversation began to take place with the lovely couple seated next to me.    They were simply delightful, and we seemed to just blend together as if we had known each other for years.    

After the dinner, my husband and I continued our interaction with this couple.   They were about forty or more years ahead of us in years, but that didn’t matter at all.    We all seemed to enjoy one another so much that we wanted to continue this relationship.

Plans were made to go for dinner one evening.   In fact we experienced many dinner engagements with them.   We loved being with them, and they seemed to enjoy our company as well.

We had only been married about four years, and financially we could pay our bills, but there wasn’t much left over.   If we ever went out for an evening, we needed to decide beforehand if we were going out for coffee, or would it be ice cream, because we couldn’t afford both at the same time.    I trust you’re catching on to our financial status of “just making it…..with not much left over.”

This one evening our new friends invited us out for dinner.   It was to be a special evening.   Little did I know ‘how’ special.   We met in the lobby of a bank.   We found that interesting.   We knew they had a drive through at this banking facility, but it wasn’t for serving food.  We were curious as we entered the building.

We followed the lead of this couple to the elevator.  When the elevator door closed, it seemed we were on that elevator a very long time.   I can’t remember the floor number, but we landed ‘at the top.’   Yes, this restaurant was at the top of this commercial high rise building.

All of the restaurants we’d ever been to were at “ground level”…and so were their prices.    The height of this restaurant and the commanding 360 degree view certainly reflected in the prices as well.    I’ll get to that in just a minute.   Everyone was really dressed up.  That means no jeans or slacks I might add.  It turned out to be a private, very exclusive club.    

After a few minutes of welcomed chit chat, I began to look around.   I didn’t need to visually circle the entire environment before coming to my first observation. Our names were on printed cards in front of us.   The cover on the pack of matches (black with gold lettering) had our friends’ name on it.    At this point, my eyes enlarged like giant grapes at my new discovery.    

This was nothing compared to my next revelation.    My husband and I opened our menus at the same time and made the identical discovery.   There were no prices next to the selections to choose from the cuisine.   This was no Bob’s Big Boy, or Denny’s, I assure you.

Our eyes met and you could almost read our thoughts appearing on our inner foreheads.   This is incredible.   Whenever we’re invited out to dinner by anyone, we try and choose something that’s the most reasonable on the menu.   With no prices, what were we to do?   How could we make a sensible, conservatively priced decision?

Our gentleman friend helped us in our dilemma to relax by asking us to have ‘whatever you like.’     Needless-to-say, our dinner was incredible and we enjoyed every tasty morsel of the meal.  We consumed, with delight, every item on the plate.

Over the course of months, we had many meals with this couple; but the problem was that they were always asking “us” out and not the other way around.   By now, you may be surmising our new dilemma.   We simply loved being with this couple, but at the time, we couldn’t afford to even take them for a fast-food dinner.   

I think I must have worked some overtime at the bank where I was employed to afford enough money to take them to Baskin & Robins.   Yes, that’s the 31 flavor ice cream bar for poorer folks like us.

One Sunday afternoon we picked them up at their penthouse condo on the beach, and off we drove to our delicious ice cream destination.   We always had fun together.   I can’t remember if they had one scoop or two, but their reaction to our ice cream social was certainly one of sincere appreciation.   They weren’t looking for our names on the cover of the matches.  They just appreciated that we wanted to spend time with them, looking for nothing in return.

Between licks of ice cream, we shared honestly and openly with our friends that we couldn’t afford to reciprocate in the same fashion as they extended to us; but we really loved having them with us.   They assured us that it was our friendship that was of “value” to them, regardless of the price of the cone.  And by the way, our income some months would only allow us to purchase the cone only…..no ice cream.

The Christmas season was fast approaching, and my husband and I thought that it would be a great idea to have them over for dinner.    We made plans for the evening and this couple seemed thrilled to be asked to our home.

Now it’s important to remember that these people lived at the top of a high-rise….a penthouse on the beach that was much more than the size of our home.   We lived, shall we say, on the mezzanine level of the neighborhood.

The evening was set.   We didn’t have a dining room table at the time, so we ate dinner on a borrowed card table that had some years on its legs.  I placed a white tablecloth on top and did my best for table presentation.  And in case your curiosity is getting the best of you, no, there wasn’t even a vase of fresh flowers on the table.  We used the best and most down-to-earth approach — plates, serviettes (napkins), knife, fork and spoon, with salt and pepper on the side.

They arrived at our home and we were delighted.   We escorted our friends into the dining room where our borrowed card table was camouflaged in white accessories.   The dinner conversation was laced with laughter, like it always had been when the four of us were together. 

In that it was the Christmas season we wanted to give them a gift to show them love and how much we valued their friendship with us.   The week before, I had made some homemade shortbread.  As I remember the volume was about two dozen. 

I wrapped the shortbread in a box, and wrapped the gift as attractively as I could muster.   I wanted the gift to look special, because I felt that the contents were “amazingly plain,” just shortbread.

We finished our dinner and it was time to relax in the living room, just a few steps beyond the card table.   They sat on our sofa and I presented the package to him.    He opened it carefully and when he saw the contents, he went into tears.    Now I know I’m not Mrs. Field’s Cookies, but I was stunned at his tears.   His wife was choked up as well.   I will never forget what transpired after the grand opening of the box of shortbread.

I began to apologize in a quiet way for such an insignificant gift to them.   Without being rude, he gently interrupted my apology with a response I was not expecting.

He used our names and said that they loved our friendship and were so pleased with our gift.   They shared that our friendship was a “gift” to them.   They were very, very wealthy.   They could have spit us out as change as far as their mass of wealth was concerned.  

But he quickly assured us that our friendship was precious to them and valued.  They both began to share from their hearts that other people they knew socially would try and outdo them with dinners and lavish evenings.    Their other relationships were filled with people endeavoring to impressive them.    My husband and I had nothing to impress them with…..except our love for them.

They both felt that our little box of cookies was the nicest gift they had ever received.   I learned a valuable lesson from our friends that day.   Never seek to impress anyone with anything less than your love for them.

Whenever I make shortbread, I’m often reminded that it’s not the size of your table or what you put on it, or the gift you may give, but the love that permeates the atmosphere.

It’s how you make people feel that counts!

 And that can happen with a simple bowl of soup or a grilled cheese sandwich.  Now, who are YOU having for dinner?

It was a cold winter morning.   I had just arrived at church.  My husband was out of town that weekend.  I try and remember to ask the Lord to direct me to just the people He intends for me to meet and interact with each day.  Today was no exception, but it happened sooner than expected. 

After parking my car I was meandering from the car to the entrance of the church.  The parking lot wasn’t hosting a crowd of people at that moment, as I was a little early.    On my way into the building I noticed a young woman heading in the same direction, but I was “on mission” to get into the building.

However, God’s Spirit paused my steps and caused me to stop, turn around and “notice this young gal.”   She seemed lovely and very friendly.   I observed that she had some sort of struggle in the way she related to me.   She seemed to struggle with her words, but her bright smile warmed up our conversation.

Searching for conversation, I asked her if she had ever attended here at the church before:  and wouldn’t you know, she was “new.”

I know “new” first hand.   It can be scary and intimidating to enter a place where you know no one and where there are groups of people and no one speaks or even acknowledges your presence.

Being new, I thought it wise to introduce her to the ladies room and then we walked into the sanctuary together.  We were both alone, so I took her arm and said, “Let’s sit together.”    I had no idea of what would take place in that service….for her….or for me.

She was new all right; not only to the church but she was unfamiliar as to how to conduct oneself during a service.  She may have thought it was similar to a movie theater because she was trying to conduct her own interactions with me throughout the service.

Bless her heart, she was making comments and asking questions all through the service.  I moved into a more mothering role and had placed my hands gently over my mouth to suggest she might want to be quiet for a while, but I think she interpreted that as “turn up the volume in her voice.”   So I needed to initiate a “shuuu sound,” and told her we could talk more after the morning service.   People were beginning to notice our presence in a more pronounced way. 

Now at this point of sharing this encounter with you, I could just pass over what was brewing in my heart…and it wasn’t a pretty sight.   For a few minutes I couldn’t wait until the service was over so I could just excuse myself and tell this young gal with an inquiring mind, that I needed to get home.

The service ended; however, the Lord hadn’t finished the sermon instructions for my heart.  Gosh, I feel I’m always in class…and I needed to be.

Coffee, tea and donuts were served afterwards.  So I pointed to the area where she could just help herself to a refreshment.  You can just about figure out what’s coming next in the Lord’s Sunday morning agenda for me.  Before I could manufacture a way out of this scenario, I found myself escorting her over to the tea and bought her a donut.  This young woman needed someone to just “pay attention to her and love on her,” even if it felt uncomfortable to me. 

Comfort zone seems to be a theme in this process of becoming more like Jesus, doesn’t it?    We shared a little about her life and needs over tea.

It wasn’t long before she had engulfed her donut and finished her tea.  Suddenly she was ready to leave.  She threw away her cup and out the door she went with a big smile and a goodbye to me.  There seemed to be no indication that our “Sunday rendezvous” was about to end so abruptly.  

I had experienced two sermons that morning.  One in the sanctuary and the other over tea and a donut.  She was my teacher that morning!   And I was her student.

This was another required lesson in the “character class” of learning how to express love to this precious young woman whom the crowds weren’t drawn to.  My heart was shaped more like Jesus’ heart that morning….and I needed that.

The following two Sundays I kept looking for her arrival, but never had the pleasure of seeing her again.  She forever changed how I look at the “scenery of people” arriving in the parking lot.   That morning God was placing me next to my sermon….who wore a lovely smile, especially after a donut and a big hug goodbye.

My husband and I resided in a small condo located downtown in a large city in southern California.   Our unit was on the street level.   So we saw quite a variety of people daily that walked past our patio.   Some were local residents, some were people that were homeless, and many were visiting from all around the world.    Our place resembled a large aquarium of people if we left the window blinds open.

Every morning around 6:00 a.m. I would get up and let our two little dogs out on the side patio for a “potty break.”   We had a special area for them to use.  We hadn’t lived there long when I began noticing other peoples’ morning traffic patterns and habits.   Just down the outdoor corridor from our home, there was a Starbucks coffee shop.   Need I say more?   We got to know the time and the persons who would walk past our place for their morning “cuppa” and off to their employment.

Most of the people I noticed were the general public, but there was one man who came out of our building at 6:00 am sharp, and every day his destination was Starbucks.  He’d return about six minutes later with “coffee” in hand.  

He seemed a quiet guy, and it was weeks before he ever looked up and noticed me standing there with our dogs.  Mind you there was nothing to draw his attention my way….as I was adorned in my lavender robe and my facial appearance left a lot to desire.  It was so early that the “replenishing makeup kit” hadn’t been opened for application.

One morning I ‘risked’ saying hello.   He glanced over and gave a soft hello.  That was it.   Every once in a while I would see him in the hall, but he seemed as though he never wanted to make eye contact.    Up until this time, we had always lived in a home, but took the initiative to develop a rapport of some kind with our neighbors; and so I felt a morning hello always seemed in order.    But no matter what I did to make eye contact and say hello with this man, it seemed obvious he was not interested in knowing his neighbors.   We only lived two doors down the hall from his condo that would measure about l9 walking steps from our door to his. 

For a long time, I’ve been in the habit of praying for our neighbors on Thursdays.  In that he met the requirement of being our neighbor, I began to pray for him.   Some of what I asked of the Lord was that God would open a door of opportunity to make eye contact, and for him to just be able to feel comfortable with saying hello.

The day arrived when this “neighbor” was struggling to enter the building from the parking garage.  His arms were full of packages, so he was struggling to enter the door without dropping his goods.   I just ‘happened’ to approach the door as he was endeavoring to enter the building and head for his condo.   I smiled and opened the door for him.

Well, at last, a tiny smile broke out.   The following morning at, you’ll guess the time, 6:00 a.m. he was on the run for Starbucks.  This morning was different, because on his return with his cup of java, he looked over and called out with a stronger hello.

A few days later, again at 6:00 a.m. as he was returning home from Starbucks, I asked him if he enjoyed lattes.  You might be thinking that’s like asking a rabbit if it likes carrots.

He perked right up and said yes, but that he never purchased lattes at Starbucks because that would be a daily habit that was a little too expensive.

Later that day I put a note under his door and told him that we had a latte machine, and my husband and I enjoyed one every morning before he went to work.   I mentioned that the next time he saw me, he could let me know if he’d want a latte some morning.  

The following morning you can guess what happened.  He was on his usual route to that coffee place, glanced over to where I usually stood, and brought up the fact that having a latte would be FABULOUS.   I believe those were his words.  

I told him we usually drank ours around 7:00 a.m.    So we agreed that at 7:00 a.m. the following morning there would be a gentle tap on his front door (all the doors faced the inside hallway of the building); and if he looked down upon opening his door, a latte would be placed in a conspicuous spot next to his door.

Today was the day for the delivery of the “liquid gift.”   There was no appearance of our neighbor heading for you know where this morning.  He presumably was parked in his abode waiting…anticipating…..his first latte delivery. 

All hands on deck!  My husband and I were both up and ready, the latte machine was on, milk being heated and frothed, and the bottle of vanilla flavoring opened.   All the preparations were completed and it was ready for delivery down the hall.

By this time I had the neighbor’s cell number.  I made the delivery and sent a short text……”your latte has been delivered and outside your door.”

Within minutes he texted back that he was thrilled with his FABULOUS LATTE.

This is how it all began.   Sometimes we’d text him to say ‘it’s on its way’ and he’d be standing there waiting for it.  As the weeks passed by, we even got into discussion in the halls as he was sipping his latte.   This delivery went on around four days every week.  It soon turned into months, and by that time we were “liquid friends.”   

His greeting to us, and the smiles in the hall were like a social gathering.   My husband and I use to laugh at all his texts each time he’d receive a latte.   At Christmas time he parked a nice gift package at our door.   This man became a dear friend with whom we still text from time to time.  We’re no longer living in that area, so his morning deliveries came to an abrupt end when we moved away.   On his birthday each year, we phone him with a question:  “would you like a birthday latte?”

One morning after his “liquid delivery” he made the comment to me that he felt ‘spoiled rotten.”   So from then on, we nick-named him S.R. for spoiled rotten.

What a lovely rapport God gave us with this man.  I was able to share my story of why I became a Christian and our friendship continues….even though we moved away a year or so later.

Every once in a while I text him and inquire if there have been any liquid latte deliveries at his door.    Needless-to-say, it has been a real dry spell at his condo.

Before we moved, we told him that we were adopting him.  He agreed, and we wrote up the papers, had him sign them, and we continue to ‘wish’ that we could share more lattes with him.

Being intentional about reaching out to show care for another has wonderful dividends!!   The best is just having him as a friend.

By the way, his nickname for me is Betty Barista!   I can’t imagine why?

Mathew 5:16  “In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Ephesians 2:10  “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

2 Corinthians 5:20a “We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us.”

The expression of our heart!

A picture is worth a thousand words, we’ve all heard that expression, haven’t we?  But what does that convey?  For me, it’s when we see something so lovely, so heart-warming, and so delightful that it moves our hearts beyond verbal expression.   We hear people respond and speak of events as “that’s beyond description,” or “I just can’t find the words.”

At the end of this past year I’d been thinking about “words;” the words we hear and the words we speak.   It’s such a simple collection of letters: W O R D S.   It’s not lengthy or difficult and carries with it only one syllable.    Our words can carry a tremendous weight in and of themselves.   They can bring joy, encouragement, and delight; but they can also transmit disappointment, discouragement, disillusionment, and destruction.

Words can be a “construction zone” or a “demolition site.”    The elements of speech that proceed from our mouths have the potential to deliver affirmation or devastating criticism.   It’s not just “what we say,” but “how we say it” that can bless and strengthen the heart of another, or demoralize them in a split second.

Words convey expression from our hearts.   There is one collection of words that may be seldom used, but words with a message that are tenderly and longingly sought after; and those are the words I LOVE YOU.  

I often hear people share that they have never heard those words from their parents.   They knew their parents loved and cared for them, but the parents found it difficult to let the words proceed from their lips to their children.   Often culture, background or how people are raised can squelch that loving expression.  

My heart has been considering the many people over my lifetime who have encouraged me, instructed me, corrected me, loved me, and stretched my character to grow and think about others ahead of myself.   People who have accepted me, just as I am (warts and all), and loved me beyond measure, seeing potential in me that I never comprehended in myself.  

God has used such a carrousel of delightful people to bless my life here on earth.   He has orchestrated a “lifetime array” of circumstances, and in this array, introduced a wide variety of people to love, learn from, and be mentored by.

At the end of last year, I wanted to express to a few precious friends how “grateful” I was that they had been part of my journey through time here on earth.   Their lives touched and enriched me in ways they probably never realized.   My heart and life has experienced such nourishment, enthusiasm, encouragement, correction and joy because of the many “ways and words” these people have shared and have made a profound impact upon my heart and life.

The last few weeks I’ve experienced encouraging comments from five friends that related to a few short responses I gave them in a text.  I was delighted to affirm each person, but was surprised with their “appreciative comments” on how I phrased my affirmation.  What an awakening to me again reminding me that how we “craft our comments and conversation” can  not only be helpful, but sometimes life-changing by giving others a fresh perspective.

Our lives do “impact and influence” others around us.  I was especially thinking of the impact of our words!  We can deposit positive and life-giving joy and encouragement to others, simply by not only “what we say,” but in “how we say it.”   And sometimes, by what we choose “not to say.”

For me, I struggle inside when I’m around “opinionated” people.  And I need to be careful here, because my own mouth and tongue can “motor” around on that highway expressing unsolicited opinions. 

You needn’t get your pen and paper out, but let me share how God addressed something ugly in me a few months ago.  In my reading this particular morning, He highlighted this Scripture verse:   Proverbs 29:11 RSV

“A fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man quietly holds it back. ”RSV

“A fool utters all his mind:  but a wise man keeps it in till afterwards. KJV

“A fool lets it all hang out; a sage quietly mulls it over.”  Message

Oops, you might be saying, I’m not a fool.  Well, God seems to call a spade a spade.  Or on a clearer note, He calls sin ….. exactly what it is, sin.   Sometimes our words can be categorized as words that proceed from a foolish tongue.  

My eyes caught hold of the word fool.   I didn’t want to linger there, but God was kindly pointing out that there was a better way to handle people and circumstances in life.  There was a boomerang affect when I read the rest of the verse.   “…..but a wise man holds it back.”  Holds WHAT back? 

At first, perhaps like you, I wasn’t fond of the word “fool.”  God loves us “just as we are;” but He loves us too much to “leave us there.”    I wondered what a wise man holds back or refrains from.  Yes, part of that verse (in other Bible versions) uses the word anger.  But He’s not just referring to holding in the wrong kind of anger.   Anger is an emotion for sure, but anger most often is reflected in our WORDS and WAYS with others and towards others.

Here’s a verse that addresses the antidote for “holding back our words,” and I’ve memorized this verse to help me watchful with what I say. 

The heart of the righteous studies how to answer, but the mouth of the wicket pours forth evil.”   Proverbs 15:28

If you’re convicted in any way here, may I ask you to get in line behind me on this one?  Let’s learn together.  What captured my thinking was this:  this applies to not only anger, but anything that’s “on your mind.”    It wasn’t long before the word “opinion” came into view.

So often if I have an opinion about something, I feel it needs to be “let out of its cage.”  After reading this Proverbs 29:11 verse, I looked at the bottom section of my Jeremiah Study Bible where there’s a further explanation of the meaning of certain verses.

As I mentioned earlier about my “discomfort” when I’m around opinionated people (who seldom see themselves this way); I was blown out of my socks when God’s arrow fell right on my turf.  I can be opinionated too.   Yes, it even hurts as I express this in writing for all the world to see, but it was true many times of me.  

So, I committed the verse to memory to help ward off the temptation of voicing what
“I think about a topic” without an invitation to do so.  My new trains of thought are to:

“Zippa da lippa.”   Or, engage mind before stepping onto the accelerator of my tongue.   Just because I have an opinion doesn’t mean it needs expression.  I’ve found that we “seldom, if ever, have all the facts about a matter, anyway.” 

Here’s what Dr. David Jeremiah has pointed out in the Jeremiah Study Bible on that verse:

“Many things are better left unsaid, and many opinions are better left unspoken, not only for the sake of others, but for the sake of one’s own well-being.”

So to wrap up our words……………. I’m choosing to continue to study “how to answer”…..and….. “how to not answer.”  How about you?   Our text book on this should be the Bible, not the dictionary.   Just in the book of Proverbs alone, there are numerous verses there to teach a willing student how to interact and connect with others in a “grace-filled” manner.  

 Jesus was a “Master communicator,” and He longs for His children to enlist as students in His “communication class.”   I’ve been in His class for a few years now; so if you feel uneasy in this area, I would love to have you join me, so I don’t feel that I’m the only one in this “Carefully Crafted Communication Class.”

If you’re not certain that God has a lot to say about this area of our “speech,” I have a 31 day challenge for you.  Since there are 31 chapters of Proverbs, there’s a chapter for every day of the month.  When you’re reading each chapter (slowly……) circle every word that appears that refers to speech, words, lips, tongue, etc.  You get what I mean. 

Perhaps you’ll be as shocked as I was.  But then again, how marvelous that God would want to not just challenge what we say and how we say it, He offers a “free education” so we’re more effective with His Word and ways with others. 

“The heart of the wise teaches his mouth, and adds learning to his lips.”  Proverbs 16:23

Oh that our words and opinions be filled with expressions of encouragement, sound counsel, and filled with grace.   Will you join me in “cutting the kindling” so only goodness is ignited.

“Where there is no wood, the fire goes out; and where there is no talebearer, strife ceases.”  Proverbs 26:20

Before I “stop writing” (ha ha ha), let me share a moment I had while in my car with another driver on the highway of life.  I don’t recall the exact details, but suffice it to say that I made a poor judgement in a parking lot.  I was made painfully aware that my judgement wasn’t the best.  How do I know that?   The driver gave me a piece of his mind that he couldn’t afford to lose.  His words and hand gestures just about tore me to pieces.   Wouldn’t you know I was knee-deep in this “verbal response” school, and when this man’s words came bulldozing out of his mouth, I felt buried.    He got out of his car and headed towards me.   This gave me a moment to draw a quick breath of prayer and God brought to my mind Proverbs 15:1.  

I can only give credit to Jesus for literally filling my mind and heart with the words in that verse that I had memorized. Once he was within ear-shot of my voice, I found myself “apologizing” for my error in judgement.  Yes, you read the words correctly.  I apologized!   I told him I was in the wrong and so very sorry.

By now, I probably have your full attention, and you’re wondering how this turned out.  Right?!  My comment literally took him by shock and surprise.  He didn’t know whether to eat a banana or crawl back into his car.   Once he gained his “composure,” he gently said something like, “Oh, that’s okay.”  Then off we travelled in our separate directions.  I’ll never forget the power of God’s word in that automobile scenario.

Proverbs 15:1 “A soft word turns away anger, but a harsh word stirs up wrath.”

Our words contribute to a “construction zone” or a “demolition site” in the lives of others.  Let’s be wise and positive in our speech, building others up and offering grace to them as God is building His character in them, as well as us.

Years ago, Ruth Bell Graham, wife of evangelist Billy Graham, saw a sign by the road:  “End of Construction—Thank you for your patience.”  Smiling, she remarked that she wanted those words on her gravestone.   

Do you ever have a day when everything just seems to register “zero, not good, get your act together?”   My husband and I had moved into a home that was, shall we say, neglected beyond belief, both inside and out.   My attempts at clearing the outside extended way beyond what I anticipated.  On this day I had just finished bagging 48 large disposable waste bags of yard clippings, leaves and tree trimmings and the temperature of my patience was nearing minus 10 degrees.  Exhaustion was painted all over my body; but, I had completed the clearing and pick up.

Being new to this neighborhood I inquired from my neighbor about the procedure for the city pick up of our yard waste bin, plus how to dispose of these bags.   My neighbor told me that the city would pick up three or four of these yard waste bags each week if they were placed next to the large waste bin provided.  

It was Monday morning and I had proudly placed about four of these bags snuggly next to the large container.   Our little dog began to bark consistently and I knew that her prancing back and forth at the front door was indication that the Sanitation Engineer assigned to our area was soon to arrive.

Yep, here he comes, the loud mechanical noise lifting the bins and moving from house to house singing in the air.   I’ve always shared goodies with our “garbage guy” to show appreciation for their efforts and efficiency in trash removal.  This would be our first meeting “at the can location” and I was so pleased with myself at my orderly arrangement of all the bags, and I felt the young man would also be duly impressed with my neat laid out array of trash for pick up.

I was armed with a big smile, anticipating a congenial introduction.  Now here is where the event goes awry.

It was readily apparent by the young man’s facial expression that it wasn’t a happy one.  He immediately invoked corrective action on his route.

My placement of the rubbish bags was too close to the large bin; and  because of COVID, I was informed that the city was not picking up the paper garbage bags.   All this discourse on his “trash rules and regulations” was blurted out in my direction and with the “not a happy attitude” city employee.

To continue his mean-spirited approach, he hoisted up the arms of his truck and in picking up the bin; ripped a gash in a bag of tree limbs and leaves.   Yes, you can picture that all of this was spewing out of the bag.   He released the bin and pulled away.   The smugness of his look and action was very hurtful.

My neighbor saw what occurred and came over to encourage me.  Once I related my details of the event, she returned home.   About an hour later this same truck appeared again to remove the rubbish from the other side of the street.  My “defense lawyer” (my neighbor) was waiting for the driver.  She spent about ten minutes in “trash conversation” with the garbage collector, the content of which she shared with me later.  

She informed me that she told the driver how inconsiderate he was to me, especially since I was new to the area and was only trying to follow the rules.

Needless-to-say, this wasn’t a good morning for me.  My feelings were hurt, not to mention I was anticipating “nice introduction.”  Humanly speaking, he was about to be crossed off my “treats for the garbage guy list.”  Now it was time to have a chat with the Lord about the verbal confrontation.

Yes, I received my “Divine instructions” and the pathway to mending was plain and simple.   Only put out the appropriate bin and hold off on those 48 bags of yard waste for a few months.

A week had passed and I was “ready and waiting” for the sound of his approach.   To be honest here, my tummy was churning, but I was going to pour out the “kindness barrel” as best I could.   I hadn’t premeditated what I was going to say, but just trusted that if my heart was in the right place, God would fill my mouth with the right words that needed to be delivered.

Here he comes now!   I approached the driveway, where the bin was placed, and as he pulled up, I said, “Did I put everything out okay this time?”   My jaw dropped as I viewed a smile that appeared on his face.  “Yep, you did it right.”  Then he proceeded to tell me why he couldn’t pick up the yard waste in the thick paper bags for a few months.

I thanked him and I thought that would be the wrap up of our conversation.  He paused and said, that he would soon return to empty the garbage on the opposite side of the street.  If I could handle it, he told me to empty one of those paper bags into my bin and roll it across the street and he would empty it for me.  Those bags can be very heavy.  I was informed that I needed to load the yard waste into the bin myself…..as he was “never” to touch a bag, but only use the truck’s pick up mechanism to collect any trash.

What???   I couldn’t believe what came out of his mouth.  About an hour had passed and I perched myself outside in anticipation of his arrival in the big blue truck.  Sure enough, an hour later, he appeared.  This time I was ready with a can of Pepsi in my hand.  His arrival was more pleasant this time.  Perhaps he saw the Pepsi can in my hand as he made his way around the corner of the street.  As he pulled into position, I handed him the can of refreshment as his eyes sparkled and a great big grin appeared on his face.

As he took hold of the Pepsi can as I was attempting to place the second bag of yard waste into the bin when the bin tipped over and all the yard waste went all over the street.   It was just too heavy to get a firm grip on it.

So what would any woman do at this point? I politely told him that he could just move on to the neighbor’s bin, and that I would spend the next few minutes “cleaning the street” from my yard waste.   I knew this would be my next assignment as he had to remain in his truck…per the City’s bylaws. 

At this point, I almost began to cry, but that wouldn’t solve anything.  So I quickly began the clean-up operation.  To my shock and surprise, the door to his cab opened and out he popped.  He began helping me tidy up the street from all the tree clippings that had been stored in this supposedly heavy-duty bag.  

Profuse “thank you’s” exited my lips.  He just smiled and said, “Don’t tell anyone I’m doing this, as I’m not supposed to touch the trash.”

Within about two minutes, the street was cleared, and in the bin and up and over into his truck it went.  He knew I was grateful, and a huge smile from him appeared in the rear view mirror as he drove off.

So perhaps you’re wondering if God is interested and desires to be involved in our “tiny trials.”  The answer is a resounding “YES;” because He longs that we see Him at work in our daily duties and regular routines.  I serve a BIG GOD……who cares to be involved in every aspect of my life and in yours, if we but give Him the opportunity.

And yes, my Sanitation Engineer will become part of my baking routine each week.  He needs to know that in this busy, occupied world, that what “he” does is important, and that it makes a difference in the lives of many people.

Is your “garbage guy” or your personal “sanitation engineer” aware of your appreciation for his or her efforts?