The Mission Field

 “He who’s begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Christ Jesus." ~ Philippians 1:6

The care facility’s sterile ceiling felt cold. At eighty-eight, Pastor Dave wasn't used to experiencing life from a horizontal perspective. For decades, he’d been the “Energizer” of the United Methodist Church, keenly adept at pastoral care and mission work.

Parkinson's had brought the slow theft of his steady hands and gait. A late-night trip to the fridge at their cottage up north ended with a sickening thud and an emergency trip to the ER.

Now, with a rod in his femur, a shattered clavicle, and stitches across his scalp, Dave was trapped. When the nurse leaned over to adjust his pillows, frustration flared in his chest. For the first time he could remember, he was the patient. He hated it.

"Why this place, Dave?" his wife had asked earlier, wiping his brow. The facility was twenty miles past their home in the city and their own church family. It made no practical sense.

Dave answered with only a cagy smile.

By day two, he was cleared for a wheelchair. His right arm was pinned to his chest, but his left could manage the wheel. The moment the staff turned their backs, the old pastor rolled into the hallway.

Instead of heading for the sunroom, he steered toward Room 114. "Martha," he called softly, tapping on the open door. Her face immediately brightened. "Pastor Dave? What happened to you?"

"Just testing the equipment," he chuckled, easing beside her bed. With his left hand free, he reached for hers. "I heard about your biopsy. Let's talk to God about it."

When they finished praying, tears streamed down Martha's cheeks. "I've been so afraid," she whispered. "I prayed God would send someone."

Dave squeezed her hand gently. "He already has."

That visit was his first of many. For the next three hours, Dave navigated the corridors. He consoled a man whose memories were slipping away. He paused to encourage a weary nurse whose smile had been buried under a difficult shift. He listened more than he spoke.

He didn't see a rehab center; he saw a mission field. Having visited the facility for years, he knew many of the residents by name, along with their fears. These weren't strangers; they were his flock.

To the staff, Dave was a stubborn patient who needed rest. To the residents, he was the hands and feet of Jesus.

That evening, the Pastor sat beside his window, watching an amber sunset sink below the horizon. Though his body ached, a deep peace settled over him. He no longer wondered why he'd fallen or when his service would end.

Dave leaned back, a knowing smile crossing his face, and closed his eyes. His assignment had changed. His calling never had.

Heavenly Father, thank You that our purpose is never dictated by our physical strength, but by Your enduring grace. When we feel broken, sidelined, or weak, remind us that Your hands are still shaping us, and Your Spirit is still sending us. Amen

Grace Begins Where Judgement Ends

 “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” ~ James 4:6

He slipped through the church doors sixteen minutes late, his breath still catching from the hurried walk. Heads turned. Eyebrows lifted. A few people sighed. One woman shook her head with a disappointed look that felt heavier than any shouted rebuke. The usher hesitated as if deciding whether he even belonged, then he pointed him to an empty pew.

Luke sank into it, heat creeping up his neck. He’d already missed almost half the sermon. He tried to pray, to listen, to be present… but all he could feel was the weight of being noticed, judged, and quietly dismissed.

After the service, no one spoke to him. They brushed past with polite smiles. He walked back out into the gray morning feeling smaller than when he arrived.

Luke almost didn’t go to his next stop. He knew he'd be thirty minutes late if he did.

He sat in his car for almost ten minutes staring at the brick building. There were no stained glass windows or statues here, only a hand-lettered sign and a tired coffee maker that hadn't brewed any hope for years.

He thought about driving away; about stopping at a bar instead. He fought the urge to surrender to the storm tearing him apart inside.

But when he opened the door, the room fell silent. Chairs scraped back. People stood. A friend said his name, relief thick in his voice. “Luke! Welcome brother… we’re glad you made it.”

They didn’t glare. They smiled. They didn’t pull away. They leaned in. They didn’t judge his lateness. They celebrated his arrival. One by one, arms embraced Luke. A few eyes betrayed the emotion they tried to hide. They didn’t need to ask why… they knew.

Here, being late wasn’t failure. It was survival. It meant he’d nearly lost… but showed up anyway, fighting for life over alcohol.

Quivering, Luke lowered himself into a seat and felt a quiet peace seep into his chest. The leader nodded gently. “Let’s pick up where we left off.” And the meeting continued - not because they had paused for a problem. But because they’d just witnessed a small miracle.

We never know what battles people fight just to show up. Some arrive late to church, to life, to hope… not from indifference, but because they almost didn’t make it at all.

What if instead of measuring worth by punctuality, polish, or perfection, we measured it by courage? What if we paused, opened our arms, and welcomed people as if their very presence might be a victory? Because sometimes, the greatest miracle isn’t who arrived on time… it’s who arrived at all.

Lord, thank You for places where grace beats judgment, and love is stronger than shame. Teach us to welcome one another as You welcome us - patiently, gently, and with open arms. Give us hearts that rejoice when the broken come seeking hope. Amen

The Warmth We Share

 Whatever you do for one of My brothers and sisters, you do for Me.” ~ Matthew 25:40

Chicago breathed winter that evening - the kind of cold that stings bare skin and presses loneliness into the air. City lights shimmered in the dusk as Aisha walked, shoulders tucked into her coat, thinking only of warmth, home, and comfort waiting just beyond the night.

Then she saw him.

A weary man sleeping on the frozen sidewalk, as if cradled by a fragile prayer whispered into the city streets. Small against the city’s enormity, he seemed fragile, shrunken by the winter’s bite. Aisha’s heart wretched. Some pain doesn’t cry out - it sighs, tugging at your soul. Turn back!

She did. Kneeling beside him, her breath rose in soft clouds, swirling between them like whispered prayers. “Are you OK?” she asked, her voice rising softly, threaded with hope.

His eyes, heavy with fatigue, shone a gentle humanity that reached across the cold between them. Aisha reached into her bag. Chicago winters had taught her to carry small mercies - an extra scarf, spare socks, and that day, an extra pair of gloves. Glancing at his slender hands, she held them out, hoping they might fit.

But instead of reaching for the gloves, he reached for Aisha’s.

His fingers, chilled by the wind, wrapped around hers with fragile warmth. He motioned gently for her to come closer. Traffic roared behind them. Horns blared. Michigan Avenue rushed forward with its relentless pace, unaware of the sacred moment unfolding in its shadow. She leaned nearer, drawn into the gravity of his concern.

“Watch out for the cars,” he murmured, his fragile voice full of tender concern. Cold, weary, and lying on the ground searching for warmth, yet his heart still chose kindness in the bitter wind.

At that moment, wrapped between the rising steam and the quiet breaking open of her heart, Aisha saw Jesus. Not in stained glass. Not in the echo of hymns. But in a humble stranger, offering tenderness from a place of need, reminding her that love still beats even in the harshest winter.

She thanked him. The gloves fit perfectly. But something far greater settled into place: grace, compassion, and the holy reminder that all of us are seen by God, held by the same Savior, carried by the same mercy. She walked away warmer than before.

Whether she ever sees him again or not, he lives in her prayers, and from that day, Aisha carries more than gloves and hand warmers. She carries a heart ready to love, reminded that sometimes Jesus doesn’t come in miracles, but in humanity, lying on a steam grate, whispering, “Be careful.”

And in that whisper, heaven brushed compassion onto the streets of the city.”

Lord, thank You for revealing Yourself in quiet moments of compassion and grace. Open our eyes to recognize You in the faces of those we might otherwise pass by. Teach us to love more deeply, give more freely, and walk more gently in Your name. Amen

Shoeless in Seattle

 “Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers." ~ Hebrews 13:2

The bus rattled down familiar urban streets affording riders a sort of distant intimacy. Some gaze aimlessly out the window while others absorb themselves in music. Most drift into worries that’ll scatter upon arrival. All together yet separate, feeling identical bumps and curves.

The morning bus ride afforded Nathan time for silent prayer. “Lord,” he pled daily, “cross my path today with someone who needs me.”

As the bus approached the 25^th intersection of Nathan’s commute, he saw a woman standing at a bus stop who appeared to be homeless. She entered the bus wearing several layers of clothing, a winter hat… and no shoes.

No one seemed to notice.

After a brief exchange, the bus driver quietly removed her UGGs and gave them to the random lady. She stared at them curiously. They belonged to someone of means, not the harsh world of alleys and park benches.

But she took them, they were hers now. She slipped into them carefully. They were almost new, with no wear on the soles and heels. Her smile broadened with pride; tears flowed easily.

Then Nathan noticed something that would remain with him for the rest of his life. The woman’s walk toward the back of the bus was commanding and authoritative – an energized, steady, and confident stride. People noticed. She now owned boots that would provide winter protection.

UGGs, lined with sheepskin, are designed to be worn without socks. The bus driver who’d surrendered ownership to the vagrant woman, now sat shoeless - exposed and vulnerable.

Nathan reached up under the cuffs of his trousers, pulled down his freshly washed black socks one at a time, and walked them to the front of the bus. "Take these please,” he offered. “They're not very warm. But you can’t drive a bus without them."

After seeing what Nathan did, another passenger gave the driver an extra pair of socks to put on over Nathan’s. Soon others were stripping off their socks in a wild frenzy to increase padding for the rest of her shift.

Shoeless passengers seemed transformed by their own kindness - less aloof, perhaps humbler, and more accessible. No one was more touched by it than Sarah, who was still homeless but realized the power of simple kindness.

Imagine your home has been taken away. Clothes and belongings you can no longer carry are gone. Imagine having no access to fresh food, sleeping in the cold with no bed and no privacy. Worse still, imagine a lonely existence without friends or family.

Too many don't have to imagine this nightmare... because they’re living it, trying to survive it, or recovering from it. We’re often reminded to walk in someone else's shoes. But it's even more important to let someone stand in ours sometimes.

Father God, break my heart… in a good way, soften it so that I might love like You and in so doing, lead me to new life, new fruit, and new, beautiful beginnings. Amen

Finding Nimo

 “Always be joyful. Be thankful in all circumstances." ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16, 18

Fame and fortune blessed this artist in his early twenties.

Born in Los Angeles, his passion for music began in high school where he started casually writing and performing his own music. He’s seldom recognized for his prestigious college degree from the Wharton Business School or his successful career at a highly competitive Wall Street firm. His rise to stardom came as a rebellious twenty-something who left NYC’s financial district to pursue his real passion – music.

Along with a few college friends, Nimesh Patel (Nimo), started a band called Karmacy. Together they pioneered a tri-lingual form of rap music. Much to their surprise, their combination of hip-hop and soulful lyrics struck a deep chord and their popularity soared rapidly. But his story wouldn’t be complete if it ended there.

During the next ten years, Nimo’s journey would take a series of unexpected twists, forcing him to reexamine his goals. Despite his full-throttle lifestyle and millions of adoring MTV fans worldwide, he found himself gravely unsatisfied.

Seeking answers to life’s most important question, Nimo walked away from it all – his fame, fortune, even his music. On a quest for deeper truths, he sought the counsel of saintly teachers, meditated in the Himalayas, and drastically simplified his life, his diet, and his mindset.

Instead of the next big idea, he focused on doing small acts of service, volunteering with children in the slums of Ahmedabad, India. Mahatma Gandhi had spent 13 years of his life there also, spreading the gospel of truth, love, and non-violence.

He began to understand what it meant to align his head, hands, and heart. “Those kids possessed a richness that far outstripped material wealth,” he said.

Eventually, Nimo embraced his musical gifts again. The work was the same, but he had changed.

He started “Empty Hands Music,” a 501c3, to extend kindness and encourage gratitude throughout the world through “selfless service, music and love.” “We arrive on this planet empty-handed,” stated Nimo, “and we will all leave empty-handed, So then, how and in what spirit do we want to spend the time in between?”

Recently, he teamed up with an old pal, Daniel Nahmod, and brought together dozens of people from around the world to create a beautiful, soul-stirring music video called “Grateful.” View it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sO2o98Zpzg8

“All that I am, All that I see, All that I’ve been, and all that I’ll ever be is a blessing. It’s so amazing and I’m grateful for it all.“ ~ Nimo Patel and Daniel Nahmod

Inspired by the 21-Day Gratitude Challenge, the song celebrates the human spirit and all of life’s blessings. For the three weeks, over 11,000 participants from 118 countries learned that gratitude is a habit cultivated consciously and a muscle built over time.

Lord, today I offer You a heart of thanksgiving and praise in all my daily experiences. Inspire me to be joyful in all circumstances, to pray continually, and to always give thanks to You. I’m grateful for it all. Amen

Two Choices

 “Never tire of doing good." ~ Galatians 6:9-10

One afternoon, Serena and her Mom, Regina, walked past a park where two teams were playing softball. Serena sheepishly asked, "Do you think they’d let me play?"

Regina knew that her daughter’s cognitive and physical limitations would probably dissuade any of the girls from wanting her on their team. But she also knew that allowing her to play would give Serena a needed sense of belonging.

She approached one of the teams’ coaches. “Losing by 11 runs, we’re about to be “mercied,” the coach admitted. Why not, if we don’t get two runs this inning, the game’s over anyway.”

Regina glowed. Serena’s smile was effervescent.

After two strikeouts, the third batter on Serena’s team hit a blistering single. The coach motioned for Serena to pick up a bat. Having never played before, she didn’t know how to hold it properly. One of her new teammates walked her to the plate and gave her a quick swing lesson. Everyone knew it was probably futile.

But, as Serena stepped proudly into the batter’s box, the pitcher moved in a few steps and lobbed the ball softly. Serena swung clumsily, missing the first pitch. The pitcher took a few steps closer, encouraging Serena to try again. The second pitch was also wildly unsuccessful.

But on the third try, Serena hit a slow ground ball back to the pitcher. With plenty of time to throw the ball to first for the final out, she threw the ball deep into right field. Players from both teams yelled, "Serena, run to first. Run fast!"

Eyes wide, she raced down the baseline screaming with excitement. When she got to first base, fans yelled, “Keep running, Serena. Run to second."

The right fielder retrieved the ball and intentionally threw the ball far over the second baseman's head and into left field. Serena reached second base safely where the shortstop turned her in the direction of third base and shouted, "Keep going!"

When Serena rounded third, girls from both teams encouraged her to “Run Home!” Almost out of breath, she stepped on home plate where both teams cheered her enthusiastically.

Her team still lost but Serena’s home run extended the game for two more innings. She played right field without a fielding chance, but would never forget being the hero, making her Mom so happy, and watching her Dad tear up when recounting her time in the spotlight.

Did you find yourself rooting for Serena, too? Those girls helped bring a slice of benevolence into our world.

Every day presents us with hundreds of seemingly trivial opportunities to do the same. We have two choices. Do we extend a little spark of kindness and inspiration, or do we pass them up and leave the world a little bit more indifferent and uncaring?

Oh God of compassion, comfort, and refuge. Thank You for surrounding me with good people. Remind me to show them daily how much they matter and shower them with the same kindness You have given me. Amen

An Unlikely Missionary

 “On Judgment Day, the quality of each person's work will be exposed by God” ~ Corinthians 3:13

She attended Ireland’s best boarding schools and relished the fruits of wealth and privilege. One day when she and her mother enjoyed tea and biscuits in a fine restaurant, a little beggar pressed her dirty nose against the window.

Amy’s heart broke for the starving, sickly girl. She promised that when she grew up, she’d find a way to help those disadvantaged. Fifteen years later she traveled to India, never to leave.

For an aspiring missionary, Amy had an unusual background. In the late 1800s, it was rare for single women to go into a foreign country and preach the Gospel. She also suffered from neuralgia, a condition causing weakness and pain so great that she was often bedbound for weeks at a time. Finally, Amy lacked any formal Biblical training.

Upon arrival, she immediately started learning the Tamil language. Amy entered a world where the predominant religion was Hinduism, where Christians were scarce, and the caste social structure neglected women and the poor.

Despite dying her skin brown with coffee to fit in, villagers mostly responded to her gospel message with disinterest or rejection.

Until she heard the cry of a 7-year-old girl named Preena.

“Pleeease help me! Don't send me back!" screamed the terrified child as she jumped into Amy's lap, clinging to her neck. She’d just escaped from a Hindu temple. Preena's mom had given her to the temple priests in hopes of winning the favor of the gods.

Amy set her sights on helping girls who’d been forced into prostitution. Soon four more girls came to Amy for refuge.

With the help of another missionary couple, they found an empty house in the village of Dohnavur and established a sanctuary for the kids.

By the end of 1924, the number reached 30 children under their care. Amy oversaw around 140 of India’s most vulnerable by decade's end. Amy, now 63, had developed neuritis and arthritis which kept her bedridden for the rest of her life.

Though Amy’s conditions slowed her down, they didn’t slow God’s work. By the 1940s, around 900 children and adults and 40–50 helpers lived in the village. What began with a single house was now a thriving village with nurseries, homes, a school, and a hospital with three doctors.

Amy continued to manage the staff and meet regularly with children who needed special help or discipline until she died in 1951 at 83. No fanfare – all Amy asked was to be buried in the garden outside her window, the one she’d looked out at during the last twenty years of her life.

Thank You Lord, for blessing us with selfless people like Amy who answer Your call. We continue to pray for those missionaries to open doors and hearts in Your Name so that more of Your children would come to Your table. Amen

A Beautiful Soul

 “Those generous will themselves be blessed.” ~ Proverbs 22:9

The man sat motionless; his eyes fixed on nothing at all. His skin hid beneath layers of grime and a wool cap masked an untidy mop of greyish red. A handwritten message on a cardboard sign lay before him. Its handwritten message begged: “Spare a little kindness?”

Most people walked past him without so much as a glance. But not Luke, who strode purposely toward the unkept man who averted his friendly smile. Street life had taught the man to remain aloof, even a stray glance could mean trouble he’d best avoid.

Luke handed the man a quart-sized Ziploc bag full of items like granola bars, bottled water, hand sanitizer, tissues, and a few $1 bills. He also included inspiring Bible verses such as “Give thanks to God, for His love endures forever.” (Psalm 136:26). Luke had been very deliberate about what went in each bag.

Then he turned and quietly walked away without saying a word. That’s because 19-year-old Luke has autism and struggles with speech and severe anxiety.

Seeing their hardship tugged at his heart. 

Even though Luke can’t speak much, he could hear them. He understood what it was like to battle without a voice. “I can’t speak well, but I can listen,” Luke wrote. “I can give what they've have been asking for – help!”

He enlisted family members to create packets full of items street people need and began handing them out. It wasn’t long before their home church found out what he’d been doing, and the 100-member congregation decided to join him! Since it’d been Luke’s idea to start the “Packet Ministry,” they picked him to lead it.

During the first year, they handed out nearly 1,200 “goodie bags.” The ministry has spread to other local churches. Luke also recruited his church’s youth group to help assemble the packets.

Heading up the ministry has been an empowering experience for Luke, because where he was once perceived as the boy with the disability, he’s now the proud leader with a focused mission.

“I’ve been given an incredible support system. It scares me to think about traveling alone in this world, but that’s the reality for so many,” he wrote. “If I can ease a frightened soul, my struggles aren’t so bad. It’s wonderful that God is using me in this way.”

Though he faces verbalization challenges, he’s taught his family to communicate and a whole community to serve by his example.

True beauty comes from within. You can be the prettiest person on the planet, but if you’re not kind and caring to others, it won’t matter how attractive you are. The best way to learn how to find inner beauty is by watching someone like Luke demonstrate compassion in his daily life.

Heavenly Father, show me how to be more like Luke today so that You will be glorified. Help me to love the way he loves; to humble myself as he humbled himself; and to trust and obey as Christ always did. Amen

Worthy Purpose

 “We are God’s masterpiece, created anew in Christ Jesus, to help Him do His work." ~ Eph 2:10

Michael walked down the street in the middle of San Antonio when he came across a busy construction site. He stopped briefly as heavy equipment operators moved tons of dirt and materials. Masons poured concrete, iron workers built structures, and bosses gave instructions. Everyone played an important instrument in this symphony set in motion.

He became fascinated by workers in a ditch by the sidewalk and decided to ask one of them what they were doing?” A tired, mud-splattered plumber looked up and paused. Excitement filled his eyes like sparkplugs roaring an engine with the growl of anticipation.

"We're building the world’s first ultra-accessible theme park for kids with disabilities,“ his boasted proudly. “It’ll open next year (2010) as “Morgan’s Wonderland.” It will include rides, playgrounds, gardens, a special-event center, and 575-seat amphitheater."

Before returning to his work, the man suggested that Michael check out the website and learn more about the project’s back story. And so, he did.

Six years earlier, Gordon Hartman sold his homebuilding business to establish The Hartman Family Foundation so he and his wife, Maggie, could help children and adults with special needs.

During a family vacation, their daughter Morgan, who was born with physical and cognitive disabilities, wanted to play with kids tossing a ball in a hotel swimming pool. But when she asked them, they quickly took their ball and vanished.

Never forgetting the anguished look on Morgan’s face, the heartbroken father decided there had to be a way to bridge the gap of misunderstanding about people with special needs. As a retired home builder, Hartman answered the looming question himself by erecting a theme park called “Morgan’s Wonderland” that opened in 2010.

The phrase “ultra-accessible” drove the park’s design, from waterproof, compressed-air fueled wheelchairs to water areas set at different temperatures for those who can’t manage the cold. The park has no bright flashing lights or anything that might trigger seizures.

Seven years later they added a water park, “Morgan's Inspiration Island,” featuring accessible splash pads and water play areas. At the Wharf, guests can even participate in catch-and-release fishing.

All the rides and attractions are fully accessible to those using any type of wheelchair. It's a special park where one can relax regardless of your abilities, and enjoy a barrier-free, wonderful time.

There are a great many purposes to which you can dedicate your life. Wealth does not necessarily correlate with spiritual advancement. Both men shared a similar vision. The entrepreneur used his wealth to provide amusement activities for a disadvantaged group. The man in the ditch committed himself to building a worthy structure because he shared the same vision enthusiastically.

Creator God, God, bring into my vision people and opportunities that’ll help reveal the passions and dreams that You have planted within my heart. Direct me in ways to explore how I’m naturally equipped to serve others and bring You glory. Amen

Being Present

 “He raises the humble and protects those suffering." ~ Job 5:11

Cristian, the Children’s Hospital Chaplain, offered spiritual guidance and pastoral care to patients and their families. Most regarded him as serious and kind, yet the staff probably thought he meddled too much. Parents expected him to be more like Mr. Rogers. But the kids had an amazing capacity to see through it all and ask the big questions.

"Where was I before I was born? What does God look like? Why does God let children get sick?”

Today the attending physician asked him to minister to the parents of a 3-year-old who’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer. When he arrived at their room, he found Dad weeping. Mom was answering phone calls, holding her world together in her own way.

Cristian encouraged them to share what they loved most about their son. Mom’s response came quickly. “His curiosity. His energy. His laughter.”

Angry eyes told the young Chaplain that Dad was about to explode. “My son doesn’t deserve this!” he cried. “I know God has a plan, but this is a crappy one!”

Seminary taught Cristian that when anger boils, take the pot off the heat and open the lid. You gotta let that steam exit safely into the heavens.

The room fell awkwardly silent.

"I don't know why this is happening,” Cristian confessed, “but I'm thankful I can witness this part of your story. May you know love amid your loneliness, pain, fears, questions, and your doubts.”

In truth, he didn’t know if the toddler’s cancer or recovery was a part of God's plan. He didn’t know if any of the infants in the NICU unit or the chemo patients awaiting remission news were part of His plan either. All the theology degrees in the world couldn't answer that question.

Why children get cancer may be less a search for reasons and more an expression of lament. And in grief, there’s no reason, explanation, or reflection.

It wasn’t his place to justify their pain, nor refute the ways they made sense of this crisis. He did want to tell them everything was going to be OK. That God works in mysterious ways. And that it will get better.

But for now, he accepted both anger and skepticism. This all brought to mind the biblical book of Job. But the questions Cristian most want to explore weren’t about theodicy or what God was actually considering or dismissing. This wasn’t about what he believed spiritually. Right now, was the time to be present for parents in agony… and simply remaining present.

They had a good conversation. They talked about their son, their support system, and what they planned to do when they settled back home. Nobody felt the need to talk about God's plans or what their son deserved; remaining present didn't demand it.

God, save me! I’m in over my head, quicksand under me, swamp water over me; I’m going down for the third time. I’m hoarse from calling for help, bleary-eyed from searching the sky for You. (Psalm 69:1:3)

Out on a Limb

 “Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths." ~ Psalm 25:4

It had been another long, rough winter here in the mountains enclosing Newfound Gap, a mountain pass in the Great Smoky Mountains. High winds, heavy snows, and now drenching rains hit residents hard, taking its revenge on people, power lines, and thousands of trees.

Charlie headed home after a day with his great grandkids. Entertaining three rambunctious children is both exhilarating… and exhausting. His head felt foggy, as if every eyelash weighed 10X more than it should.

A late winter had dropped a foot of snow and that was rapidly melting. Runoff from the hills had swollen rivers, filled ditches and puddled in the road. Broken tree limbs scattered the mountainside.

Rounding a blind curve, Charlie saw a very thick tree branch up ahead that had fallen into the road and big enough to wreck his car. Freeze, fight or flee? He instinctively pounded the brakes, lit the emergency flashers, then sat for a moment to gather his thoughts just short of disaster.

The road was just wide enough that he could drive around it. Flight seemed the most sensible option for the octogenarian. He needed to get home, wanted to get home.

But the sun was losing its last silver streaks before twilight beckoned the stars. It’ll be dark soon. Sunlit, the mountains are a celebration of artistic forms and colors. Except for the galaxy of distant stars, pure blackness comes at night. “Cancel flight,” he grumbled.

Charlie opened his car door into the pouring rain. There’s a quality of rain that lifts one’s soul heavenward. Amidst the heavy downpour, he felt cleansed and humbled – as if embraced by the arms of his loving Protector.

He went about trying to pull the limb off the road. It was risky; much heavier than expected. But with a little prayer and much grunting, it started moving. By no more than a few inches, Charlie succeeded in clearing it to the road’s shoulder.

He stood briefly to enjoy the victory, offering praise to the partner God that’d help boost his energy. Just then, a small red car sprinted around the curve, hit a pool of water, and splashed his already-soaked pants. “Ungrateful little buggers,” laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Sometimes we all do good things only to get “splashed” for our trouble. When this happens just remember that the real reason you do good is because of the love inside you. The real reason is because you are good.

“Do all the good you can then, everywhere you can, and every chance you can.” (John Wesley) Do good and make the God who watches over you, walks beside you, and lives within you - smile.

Remind me, Lord, of your faithfulness in the past. Help me to remember Your goodness and grace. Help me to trust You even when I’m hesitant. Today, I offer You all that I am, use me for Your purposes. May I even be willing to be a fool for you! Amen

 

"Only the Lonely"

 “He is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." ~ Psalms 34:18

We buried both of my parents just days before Christmas, eleven years apart. No one holiday was more difficult to endure than those first Christmases without each of them. Everyone was buying gifts, decorating their homes, baking family recipes, and enjoying the holiday spirit. I remained silently present in the shadows at Christmas.

It reminded me of another who played a role behind the Christmas scene.

Yet what an important role he played in the early life of Jesus. He supported and wed Mary, even though the child wasn’t his. He remained a calm presence at the manger, and later led the family to sanctuary in Egypt. He mentored Jesus during those formative years, teaching Him carpentry skills and a love for the Law.

Joseph reminds us to remember the forgotten people at Christmas. The widow, with every greeting card she opens, who feels the sadness of facing the holiday without her husband. The soldier on deployment thousands of miles from home who longs for her familiar Christmas festivities. The first responders working holiday shifts who feel more stress than any other time of year.

This season is for everyone, not just those who can celebrate with family and friends. The Christ of Christmas was not only a baby surrounded by awestruck shepherds and wise men.

He champions the lonely… because he knows their pain.

His young mother was probably more than a little scared amid unfamiliar surroundings. The birth announcement was not a hospital photo mailed first-class to neighbors and family.

Instead, angels appear to shepherds on a hillside, men who were probably lonely and bored until they heard the news.

To read the Christmas story tenderly is to appreciate God orchestrating the events of Christ’s birth to include the lonely; making it clear that He understood their pain. A Samaritan woman at a well, an outcast tax collector, a woman with a painful illness - Jesus drew near to them, sometimes singling them out for special attention or favor.

In a world where presents at Christmas hold such a dominant place, the best gift we can give is our presence for forgotten people. So as Χρῑστός, or Christos (Greek) approaches, please remember the lonely in your prayers.

Take a moment to think about different people in your life. Start with your family and work outward. Think about co-workers and neighbors. Think about people who might have a recent life event that might have left them feeling isolated.

Cry out to God for those whose holidays are mournful reminders of loss or lack in their lives. Pray for those who are far from home over the holidays. And pray for joy in our hearts, hope in our God, love to forgive, and peace on the earth.

Loving God, in this Holy season, we come to You who reveres the brokenhearted and ask You to shower Your favor on all of the above, in the name of Jesus, Your beloved and only-begotten Son. Amen

The Gentle Judge

 “When you help the poor, you’re lending to God and He will repay you." ~ Proverbs 19:17

"Order in the court!" Judge Caprisio rapped his gavel twice and instructed the bailiff to call the next case. A disheveled young woman named Dasani stepped to the podium. She isn’t too different from many other defendants that the stately judge has overseen. She has technically violated the law, but not for reasons under her control.

Dasani fought the urge to cry while telling the judge about her life and how she ended up in this mess. She escaped an abusive, alcoholic father and has not been in school since the fifth grade. Autism and relationship problems pushed her into a homeless existence on Brooklyn’s streets. She doesn’t exaggerate her situation, not even a little bit.

She’s around 27 years old and has been living in her car up until recently. She’s before the judge because a Traffic Control officer “booted” her car. Now it’s immobile. Not having transportation is plenty bad enough on its own, but even worse when it doubles as the only roof over her head.

Dasani added that she just got a job cleaning hotel rooms and was hoping to ‘work out some sort of payment plan’ to at least keep her car, one of the last pieces of her life.

Known for his kind and caring behavior, Judge Caprisio listens patiently to the poor woman though he’s heard stories like hers hundreds of times in his 37 years on the bench.

His voice is gentle as he gives her a sentence of $400. The mandatory boot fee is $100 plus $300 for the ticket and court fees. “How much can you pay now?” he asks softly.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Dasani claims to have only $5 to her name, he couldn’t in good conscience take the last of her meager funds.

Then the Judge rendered a judgment that would leave her speechless. He’ll pay off the $350 for her with money from the Filomena fund, a charitable fund named after Judge Caprisio’s late mother, from whom he probably inherited his compassion. The fund supports people unable to pay for traffic violations from small donations by people around the world.

Judge Caprisio gave her a month to pay the remaining $50. Should the circumstances decide that she still couldn’t pay it by then, he’ll probably pay that off too. But that seldom happens.

Almost unable to speak, she said, “Thank you so much your honor, thank you.” Tears of sadness turned to smiles of gratitude.

But there was one more act cooking in this courtroom drama. As Dasani turned to leave, a stranger in the courtroom approached the bench with an offer. “I play guitar in restaurants for free food,” he said, offering her the free meal he’d get that night.

Kindness breeds kindness – pass it on!

"Lord, let me never forget all that you do for me on a daily basis. Lead me to live my life as a testament to Your many incredible blessings, that Your love may be known and experienced by all those I serve. Amen