In Due Time

 “Never grow weary of doing good, rewards will follow in due time.” ~ Galatians 6:9

By middle school, Arik had perfected the art of being gone without disappearing.

Home was a place he’d learned to avoid. The reasons didn’t need naming; they lived in his defeated eyes, slumped shoulders, and in the way he lingered after the last bell.

The public library became his refuge - not because it was exciting, but because it was safe. Neutral. It asked nothing of him.

Every afternoon, Arik took the same chair near the window, backpack tucked beneath the table, the hours stretching open in a way they never did at home. He read whatever he could get find, sometimes holding a book open without reading, just letting the tranquility settle in.

The librarian, Mrs. Chen, noticed him. She didn’t hover. She never asked why he stayed so long or where he went afterward.

Instead, she did small things. She kept his place reserved. She placed books nearby - stories with kids who endured, survived, excelled. Some days, a snack appeared on the table. No thanks necessary.

One afternoon, while stacking some returns, she asked, “Do you like to write?” He hesitated, then nodded.

She handed Arik an unused journal. “We’re getting rid of old stock,” she said kindly. “Thought you might want to write in it.”

Others followed when he appeared to be finishing it. Arik filled each one, penning the dreams he couldn’t speak: to survive, to thrive, to be unafraid.

On the inside cover of the third blank journal, she wrote in her neat, steady hand: “Your words matter, Arik. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Years later, he would learn that Mrs. Chen had paid for every journal herself. She never framed her kindness as rescue. She never made him feel like a broken boy who needed fixing. She simply gave him space, physical and otherwise, trusting him to grow from it.

After college, Arik got his first elementary teaching position. Weeks into the semester, he wrote Mrs. Chen a letter. He told her what the library had been. What she had been - a constant when everything else felt unstable.

Her reply arrived weeks later, written in deliberate, heartfelt script. At the bottom of the letter, she added one final line: “When I was your age, the library saved me too.”

Now, Arik understood the precision of everything she’d done—the unnoticed work caring adults do without realizing its weight. Simply showing up, consistently and without conditions, could change a life.

She hadn’t been rescuing him. She’d been passing on a gift from experience.

Heavenly Father, make me someone who notices others. Teach me to offer shelter without spectacle, kindness without condition, and hope without needing credit. Help me pass on what You’ve gifted me. Amen 

True Blue

 Do to others what you would have them do to you!” ~ Matthew 7:12

The day felt like a sauna. Heat glimmered off the pavement like a Sahara mirage; weather that invited deep calm and shady rest. By early afternoon, Lupe’s day was nearly half done. Despite the oppressive heat, the 85-year-old pushed a mower across an emerald-green yard, intent on keeping it looking beautiful.

His labor was no longer by youthful vigor, but of sheer discipline and pride that honest work etched onto his soul. His work ethic was driven by a deep sense of responsibility and resilience.

Two patrolling officers, concerned about Lupe’s safety, decided to stop and check on the elderly man. Extreme heat can be dangerous - even fatal for someone his age.

So they offered to do the job for him. The octogenarian appeared visibly relieved and grateful for their help.

Turns out, Lupe was actually mowing a friend’s lawn in the oppressive heat. The policemen finished that yard, then proceeded to mow Lupe’s yard, prune his bushes, and complete other random work around his home.

Neighbors gathered, impressed by the officers’ commitment to serving their community in more ways than just enforcing the law. They explained why Lupe was so exhausted. He’d been tending their yards and watering plants, from sunrise to sunset, since moving in thirteen years ago. Expecting nothing in return, Lupe worked from the goodness of his heart, and also to make their entire neighborhood more beautiful.

They praised him as more than a neighbor, but as a friend and role model, embodying the very essence of community spirit and kindness. They likewise found inspiration in the officers’ humility and selflessness. It was the perfect example of the Golden Rule unfolding in real time.

Kindness is a virtue pleasing to God and a spiritual gift. Kind-hearted people are the glue that keeps society from imploding. They seek bonds and purposely work at maintaining them. When we acknowledge them, nurture and support them, the entire community rises. Helping others at the right moments creates powerful waves into future generations.

Yet, life can sometimes be the hardest for the kind-hearted. Generously giving to others makes them wonderful - a blessing to everyone in their orbit. But it can take a toll on them too. Motors in constant motion, they seldom take enough time for self-maintenance and refueling. As such, they can be prone to exhaustion, burnout, and compassion fatigue.

Think of the people in your life who continuously give to others in need. They’re probably the most empathetic, emotionally intelligent, and sensitive souls you know.

The care they give others must come back to them. Love them the right way or lose them. So, encourage them to occasionally shift their focus and recognize that their needs must also be cared for. Help them remember why they’re valued beyond their ability to serve others.

Almighty God, Your Golden Rule stands as a timeless reminder to love and respect others. It's yet another call for empathy and understanding another’s situation and point of view, especially when different from our own. Amen

The Wounded Healer

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9

From her first breath, agony was a constant companion that never sought permission.

The doctors diagnosed it as severe arthritis—a cruel inheritance that staked its claim in her infant joints. By her first steps, she’d already learned to endure. In her first prayer, she decided that while pain might live in her bones, it would never own her voice.

Her body moved with a measured caution. Mornings were a battlefield of stiff fingers and defiant knees, yet Heidi never surrendered to bitterness. She didn't ignore the fire within; she simply refused to let it consume her spirit. “It’s there,” she’d whisper, “but I’m OK.”

Her home became a sanctuary for the fractured. Stray dogs found her porch. Broken-winged birds and discarded cats felt the loving warmth of her touch. She named them all, fed them before herself, and nursed broken bodies and frightened hearts with unwavering kindness.

People, too—broken men, souls shadowed by addiction, anger, or physical ruin. While others saw danger, Heidi saw kin. Friends warned, “You give too much!” She’d offer a weary smile. “Maybe, but isn’t that the point?”

She didn’t fix them all. Some left better. Some were unchanged. None left unseen. And to Heidi, that was enough.

For 25 years as an occupational therapist, she helped others reclaim small victories—buttoning a shirt, holding a spoon, writing a name. She understood frustration, so she met it with grace. “Try again,” she’d say. “Not because you have to. Because I know you can.”

Her life echoed the witness of the Apostle Paul—bearing his own tribulations while building a kingdom. Heidi never needed a pulpit, but her example reflected a similar truth: suffering and purpose are not opposites. Love, chosen daily, becomes its own testament to Jesus Christ.

In later years, the pain worsened. Her hands curled more tightly. Her eyes began to fail and walking became nearly impossible. Some days, there was little left for her to do but remain, yet her hope remained undeterred.

One evening, a former patient came to see her—a man who once struggled to hold a cup, now carried one steadily to her bedside. “You changed my life,” he said.

Heidi smiled. “No,” she whispered. “You fought. I just held the light so you could find the way.”

When she left this world far too soon, the world didn’t stop—it just cooled a little. Her absence lived on in recovered strength, renewed spirits, and the happy sighs of rescued pets.

Pain had been her permanent shadow—but never her legacy. That belonged to something far greater—the stubborn defiance to love anyway, without condition or guarantee.

Father God, thank You for lives that shine with fortitude; not in comfort, but in compassion. Teach us to love as Heidi did, to see others not for what they lack, but for who they are in You. In our own weakness, remind us that Your strength is enough. Amen

Willing Workers

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as if working for God.” ~ Colossians 3:23

Wednesdays always began the same, at Miller’s Diner, in the corner booth with cracked vinyl seats. The place smelled of bacon grease and fresh coffee, an aroma that wrapped around you like a familiar hug.

Bill arrived first, claiming he needed “time to organize his thoughts,” though everyone knew he just wanted the first cup of coffee. Charlie, the crew’s unofficial captain, brought steady leadership and encouragement. Pete faithfully studied the entire menu, “just in case today was the day waffles appeared.” Others soon filled the booth, their laughter and fellowship fueling the day’s work ahead.

They laughed, prayed, and traded stories of aching joints and grandkids. Only when the plates were cleared and the last cups drained did they rise together, ready to serve.

A few miles away, St. Luke’s Methodist Church waited. The men moved through it like caretakers of something deeply sacred. 

Doug tested every light, convinced a bright room welcomed a lively spirit. Jim circled the building, checking each door with the urgency of a professional security agent. And Bob, “Head of Plumbing,” proudly inspected every toilet, a title no one challenged.

Others painted, polished, and repaired whatever needed attention. Church members called them the Wednesday Willing Workers. They simply called themselves brothers.

For decades, these retirees had tended the church as if it were their own homes - patching cracks, repainting walls, polishing windows until they shimmered in the morning sun. They never spoke of payment; only of gratitude.

One morning, Pastor Johnny arrived early and found them already working. Tom knelt in the entryway, wiping dust from the baseboards. Ray dusted the pews, humming a hymn that drifted softly across the sanctuary. Benny mopped the Fellowship Hall floor in steady, practiced sweeps.

“Fellas,” the Pastor said gently, “You know we could hire someone to do this.”

Charlie smiled respectfully. “Why hire someone to love what we already love?” Gene nodded. “This church held us when we were young men raising families. It buried our wives. It baptized our grandchildren.” He tapped the wall with quiet affection. “We’re not just fixing a building, Pastor. We’re preserving what matters most.”

That Sunday, Pastor Johnny paused the service to honor them. The congregation rose, clapping and cheering, until the men’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Bill quietly wiped his glasses, struggling to keep his composure.

“We’re not heroes,” Allen said later, slightly embarrassed. “We’re just old men who believe there’s no greater service than caring for God’s house.”

Everyone knew better. Their care had left a mark far deeper than paint or polish. Long after they were gone, their love would linger in every corner of the church they cared for with faithful, joyful hearts, a living testament to lives devoted to God’s work.

Holy Father, bless their hands that care for Your house, the hearts that give without seeking praise, and the fellowship that strengthens them for the tasks ahead. Teach us to serve with the same humility, devotion, and joy. Amen

The Whisper of Love

 “Love’s endurance has no limits; its hope never fades.” ~ 1 Corinthians 13:7-8

They’d both enjoyed successful careers. After 12 years of marriage, their five grown children had already left the nest. Lisa and Peter were nearing early retirements in favor of travel, golf, and relaxation when Peter’s diagnosis shattered their plans - Early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.

At just 53, Peter stepped away from his executive role, no longer able to carry the weight of responsibilities he’d once handled with ease. When it became unsafe for him to stay home alone, Lisa retired too, trading professional goals for the sacred work of caregiving. Their world narrowed, shaped by doctor visits, financial adjustments, and the slow unraveling of memory.

As the disease tightened its grip, Peter lost names, faces, and eventually even Lisa, the woman who’d walked beside him through every joy and sorrow. Yet somehow, deep beneath the fog,  where memory could no longer reach, love waited like an ember that refused to die.

One day, while watching a wedding scene unfold on TV, Peter grinned like a boy with a secret. He turned to Lisa, unaware of their already shared history, and asked, “Do you want to get married?”

Love instantly rose again! “When the person you deeply love chooses you twice,” Lisa later said, “how could you possibly say no?” By morning, the proposal had slipped away, lost in the haze of dementia. But Lisa carried it forward, asking nothing in return, not clarity, not permanence, only grace for the moment she’d been given.

With help from their daughter, they renewed their vows six weeks later, surrounded by family and close friends. Lisa wore the same dress from their beach wedding years before, adorned with jewelry Peter had once carefully chosen for her.

Fighting back tears, Lisa thought of Peter as she approached the altar. Her heart trembled with unanswered questions. Did he understand? Was he happy? Was he nervous like the first time?

When Lisa arrived at the altar, a confused Peter asked, “Who are you?” Then, leaning close, he whispered, “You look great.”

They kissed, and for a few hours, everything in the universe seemed to align perfectly.

Peter laughed and danced, joy returning like a long-lost melody. Photos later showed a beaming groom, hands wrapped tightly around his bride, as if love itself had steadied him. Deep memories stirred. “A piece of him came back to us. It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming,” Lisa shared.

Even though she tries to stay positive and focus on one day at a time, Lisa knows that the day will come too soon when she must put Peter in long-term care. Until then, she walks faithfully beside him, sharing their precious storybook memories, as if he’s hearing them for the first time.

While Alzheimer’s steals so much, love is almost always the last to go.

Almighty Lord, walk with all who watch someone they love slowly fade. Strengthen weary hearts. Guard us from despair. Teach us to see beauty even in loss, and draw us closer to You through every challenge. Amen

Kingdom Builder

 “Faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it’s useless.” ~ James 2:17

In Maple Hollow, a small mountain town where winter lingered too long, many elders lived in quiet confinement. A single porch step could become an unscalable wall, keeping them from neighbors, church events, and even the sunlight’s warmth. But sometimes God answers with a hammer, some nails, and an old carpenter with a willing heart.

At 76, Greg “Smitty” Smith thought he’d laid his tools to rest. After decades of building houses, he was tired. Then he heard God’s gentle whisper: “Your work isn’t finished.”

That Voice became purpose the day he witnessed 87-year-old Elaine inching down her icy steps, dragging an oxygen tank behind her on a plastic sled. It’s dangerous, but I haven’t seen my granddaughter in months,” she barked, her words more prayer than judgment.

When Smitty offered to build a ramp, she wept openly. “I can’t afford you.”

He shrugged. “I’m not charging.”

Then, using scrap wood scavenged from a construction dumpster, Smitty built the ramp in three days. When she rolled down it without struggle, she grasped his arm. “I’ve got my life back!”

From that moment, her world expanded. She could sit on her porch again, attend church functions, and reach doctors’ appointments without being carried down the steps. Smitty knew immediately that he hadn’t just built a ramp… he’d enabled freedom.

Over the next fifteen years, Smitty designed and supervised nearly 350 ADA-approved wheelchair ramps for people who couldn’t afford them. Each one was crafted with prayer and compassion.

A small army of volunteers joined him - teens wanting purpose, retirees with time to spare, and neighbors eager to put their faith into action. Smitty always insisted he was only part of the team. “I believe God called me to do this before I take my last bow,” he said. “I love this!”

Now, the most important tools he uses are his crutches. A stroke 3 years ago left his right side paralyzed, but his spirit never dimmed. He continued to design every ramp, manage supplies, deliver lumber, and mentor the volunteers with the steadiness of a seasoned builder.

Over time, he refined the process. Prefab sections of pressure-treated wood are assembled in his garage, making them reusable and allowing them to be installed throughout the year.

Bolts replaced deck screws for faster builds. Stanchions replaced in-ground posts to reduce cost and labor. Donations from churches and lumber stores covered every expense, ensuring not a single recipient ever paid a cent. Grace funded the entire mission.

In Maple Hollow, those ramps became far more than timber and technique. They became witnesses of mercy, pathways to restored dignity, and sacred reminders that true faith never stops moving. It’s a wonderful reminder that the greatest gifts are those that empower others to live fuller, more independent lives. Just ask Elaine.

Holy Father, let my work reveal a living faith, patterned after Jesus’ example. Keep my heart open, obedient, and ready to serve those in need. Amen

Top Gun

 “Clothe yourselves with kindness, humility, and tenderness.” ~ Colossians 3:12

He grew up a Kansas farm boy with dreams of becoming a pilot. After graduating from the Naval Academy and completing his training, Charlie Plumb earned his place in the elite fighter school that the world celebrates as “TOP GUN.

Called signed “Plumber,” Charlie soared confidently in the Navy’s hottest new weapon, the F-4 Phantom Jet. He flew 74 successful combat missions over North Vietnam.

On his 75th and final mission, enemy fire turned steel into shrapnel. Plumber punched out, trusting the thin, silk parachute on his back while floating downward… straight into captivity. Six torturous years behind enemy walls, Charlie would emerge with a true story that keeps rescuing people long after the war ended.

Years later, in the calm of a Kansas City diner, a stranger with a curious stare approached his table. He asked if Charlie served during Vietnam. Charlie responded that he’d flown jets. The man then asked if he’d been shot down on his final mission. Charlie nodded.

“You’re Plumber,” he said. “U.S.S. Kitty Hawk. Fighter pilot. Shot down over somewhere Hanoi.”

Disoriented by the sudden time-travel, Charlie smiled. “How could you possibly know that?”

The man grinned and pumped Charlie’s hand. “I packed your parachute… it must’ve worked!”

Later that night, Plumb kept picturing that sailor, once dressed in a crisp uniform, hands meticulously folding silk over cords deep below deck.

A man he might have passed by countless times without a nod. He pictured the man in his Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers.

He, the warrior pilot with wings and a swagger. That other man… “merely a sailor.” He pictured himself in a carefully engineered flight suit. The sailor clad in a “Dixie cup” shaped hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. Yet those nimble hands had folded hope and life into a perfect pack that opened on the worst day of Plumber’s life.

We all have them - quiet heroes without medals or applause, but who stand tall because they kneel to help us. The parent who really listens when life’s burdens are too heavy to carry alone.. The stranger who smiles you back into humanity. The neighbor who checks in, the mentor who guides gently, the nurse who speaks comfort into fear. Some pack our physical parachutes, others our emotional, mental, or spiritual ones.

Our lives fly by like supersonic jets. Sometimes we forget the small courtesies, the thanks, the well-deserved compliments, the tiny kindnesses offered with no agenda at all. Yet those are the stitches that keep our parachutes intact.

As you fly through the days ahead, glance around the hangar of your life. Offer gratitude. Celebrate those unseen hands. Your safe landing might be resting quietly in someone else’s careful attention.

Lord Jesus, You shared kindness the world had never known. Even when faced with hostility, Your response was one of unwavering love and calmness. Shape my heart to follow Your example with humility, grace, and compassion. Amen.

Strangers No More

 “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none.” ~ Luke 3:11

Thanks to their medical team, a calling from God, and an answered prayer, two strangers are now forever linked – both physically and spiritually.

Elaine’s husband, Daniel, had chronic kidney disease. He spent a year on peritoneal dialysis followed by 3 years on hemodialysis. When his kidney function dropped below 20 percent, the couple began researching transplant facilities.

Elaine was willing to donate, but sadly, she wasn’t a match. Luckily, a well-matched kidney became available from a deceased donor. Daniel’s health improved dramatically after receiving the kidney.

Grateful for their good fortune, Elaine attended a revival at the local Baptist Church in Roanoke. A nurse with almost 32 years of experience, Elaine recognized the signs of dialysis instantly as Evangelist Bryan Janes rose from his wheelchair and preached fervently about trusting God’s plan.

Weak and jaundiced,  Janes was still preaching and traveling. Humbled to tears, Elaine recalled the toll dialysis had taken on her husband and their livelihood.

She’d never met this man. “I remember thinking, hmm, should I? What are the chances? What have I got to lose? Somebody else will do it.” Little did she know then that the Lord was already working on her in that pivotal moment.

She’d once been mentally prepared to donate a kidney and decided she still wanted to. The Lord whom she admired was calling her. She trusted Him and knew He’d care for her. Hesitation never crossed her mind.

After intense screening, her prayers were answered. This time, she was a match.

Things moved quickly. Both surgeries went perfectly. Surprised by how exhausted she was over the next few weeks, Elaine experienced very little pain.

Both Bryan and Elaine credit the Heavenly Father for a connection that profoundly changed each of their lives.

“When people tell me that what I did was amazing or heroic, I don’t know what to say. As a palliative nurse, I’ve always been deeply invested in improving my patients’ quality of life,” Elaine said. “To be able to so directly impact Bryan’s life was an amazing gift for me.”

As for Bryan, “When Christ died for my sins, He gave me eternal life. That’s the greatest gift of all. But second to that has to be another chance at physical life, especially from a living donor that I’d never met. That’s a huge ask! I’m going to use it for what God has called me to do!”

Many think that an organ transplant is only an end-of-life decision, but it’s not. Research shows that recipients of organs from living donors have better outcomes than those who receive organs from deceased donors. Nearly 90,000 people in the U.S. are currently waiting for a kidney transplant (11 will die each day waiting for one). Getting a kidney from a living donor eliminates that wait.

Father God, we pray that the Holy Spirit would lead just the right person(s) to further explore live kidney donation as service to You. And be blessed way beyond what they could ever imagine! Amen

Subway’s Humble Spokesman

 “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, patience, kindness, and goodness.” ~ Galatians 5:22

Twenty-five years ago, Jared Fogle became Subway’s spokesperson after claiming he lost over 200 pounds by only eating sandwiches from the fast-food chain. His wholesome image was shattered in 2015 after he admitted to sexually abusing and exploiting children.

Despite consumers largely separating Fogle's offensive behavior from Subway’s sandwiches, the company struggled to improve its image. Enter a shy young man with Down syndrome who began his career at a Subway franchise in Nebraska.

In 1990, decades before Jared Fogel, Jerry nervously adjusted his Subway cap for his first day on the job. Menu prices were less than $5.00, and deli sandwiches were wrapped in plain butcher paper.

Initially, Jerry stuck to simple tasks: greeting customers, stocking disposables, and cleaning tables. Before long, regular customers started coming in not just for their favorite sandwiches, but for Jerry’s cheerful greetings, sincere compliments, and inspiring work ethic. Eventually, he learned the art of making sandwiches to order and loved every second of his job.

He started remembering people’s orders before they even asked. He remembered their names and birthdays, too. Sometimes he’d tell a joke. There was genuine kindness in his smile, a gentleness that delighted even the most impatient guests.

Jerry became the face and heart of that Subway. He had perfect attendance – even when it snowed, even when he sprained his ankle, even when his Mom died. “She’d want me to be here,” he whispered, straightening his cap through crestfallen tears.

He always offered kids a smile and a cookie “on the house.” His friendship bracelet was woven with threads of every coworker’s favorite color. He celebrated their milestones with them and provided comfort when they needed it. Jerry’s presence turned a fast-food joint into a family.

His story spread. Local newspapers interviewed him. Customers brought him birthday and Christmas cards. One even nominated him for the city’s Hero Award. But Jerry didn’t do it for adulation; rather, “I just like making people happy. That’s all.”

Over time, the logo evolved, walls were repainted, and food offerings became more expensive. Managers and staff changed. But Jerry stayed put.

So, after 33 years, making thousands of sandwiches, Jerry stood smiling broadly in his Subway polo, holding a Retirement Award plaque. Tears flooded his eyes, and joy poured from his soul.

The Subway was packed, not with food orders, but with friends, coworkers, and customers to wish him well. Even the mayor dropped by. One of Jerry’s earliest customers, a grown man with his own family, flew back to town just to shake his hand.

An irresistible smile covered his face. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I gave it my best!”

With that, Jerry retired. He left behind a legacy – living proof that kindness, consistency, and community matter more than titles, logos, and policies.

Lord Jesus, you lived a life characterized by unparalleled kindness and gentleness. Even when faced with hostility and antagonism, Your response was always one of steadfast love and acceptance. Teach me to walk in Your footsteps humbly. Amen

The Secret Donor

 “Give, and it will be given back to you." ~ Luke 6:38

At 60, Tim had been a picture of health, a vibrant professional who relished an active lifestyle. When his routine bloodwork revealed an anomaly, he dismissed it as a minor blip. But persistent ankle swelling, constant fatigue, and frequent urination forced him to seek further evaluation.

His world tilted on its axis when a nephrologist diagnosed Berger’s Disease (IgA Nephropathy), an unforeseen kidney disorder that attacks the body's ability to filter waste from the blood. When this occurs, harmful levels of fluid and waste accumulate in the body, raising blood pressure and eventually resulting in kidney failure (end-stage renal disease). IgAN has no cure.

Tim began kidney dialysis four days a week for up to five hours and immediately joined the waiting list of 100,000 Americans needing a kidney transplant. The average waiting time for a deceased donor kidney (three to four years) is often longer than their life expectancy on dialysis.

The most compatible donors include parents, children, or siblings. Tim was an only child, and his parents were both deceased. His oldest son had died of Leukemia 30 years earlier. Doctors are highly reluctant to consider unmarried women (like his 25-year-old daughter, Denise) for organ donation. So, he waited.

It would likely be years before receiving a donor kidney. And while he tried keeping a near-normal routine, the fear remained a constant shadow looming over him.

As Tim’s health continued to deteriorate, they were thrilled when the call they’d prayed for came from the transplant team: “An anonymous, perfectly matched, living kidney has become available.”

What followed was a carefully orchestrated process to prepare both the kidney donor and recipient. Both operations were done in separate but adjoining hospital suites.

The donor surgery was done laparoscopically. The healthy kidney was then surgically placed into Tim’s lower abdomen, a procedure that took about four hours. Both Tim and his donor were closely monitored for 24 hours to check blood counts and kidney function.

The transplant surgery was a complete success for both Tim and his donor.

The next day, Denise surprised her father by walking into his recovery room still wearing her hospital gown and attached to an IV. She’d kept her plans secret for nine months as she went through the testing and necessary protocols for becoming a donor. It took a lot of teamwork and effort behind the scenes to ensure that Tim was unaware of her plans.

Denise’s kidney gave her Dad new life. He’ll be on anti-rejection medication forever, but no more dialysis. Denise should have no lasting side effects from the transplant. 

Tim shed grateful tears at the realization that the ‘anonymous donor’ was his child. "I started crying," he said, adding that it was "hard to process her selfless gift."

Gracious Lord, we offer thanks for the selfless, courageous, and compassionate act of organ donation. May their acts of love be a shining example for us all, reminding us of the power of generosity. Amen

Little Woman, Big Heart

 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." ~ Philippians 3:10

At 4’10”, Gladys was determined. Once she felt the call of mission work, nothing would deter her from reaching that goal. God affirmed His calling by helping her overcome mind-bending obstacles.

Born in 1902, Gladys grew up in a churchgoing, working-class family. At 14, she left school to work as a parlor maid for Britain’s upper crust. The work was demanding, but she enjoyed vicariously living their affluent lives.

After attending a revival meeting in her early twenties, Gladys found herself conflicted by the Gospel. She enrolled in a three-month Chinese prep course for aspiring missionaries. Sadly, her inability to grasp the Mandarin language ended any further study.

When she learned of an aging Chinese missionary needing personal care, Gladys offered to help. In October 1930, Gladys packed two suitcases—one for clothing and the other for biscuits, tea, and hard-boiled eggs. With a proud smile, she boarded the train for the treacherous trip across Siberia. Her months-long journey involved trains, hunger, and violent Russian soldiers.

Aylward settled in Yangcheng, China, where she cared for the elder missionary and helped manage an inn for tired travelers. Learning Chinese became a necessity.

Her customers taught her the language. She shared the Gospel with them. Her evangelism also sparked keen interest from villagers, where large crowds gathered to hear the tiny woman speak.

Having gained the trust of the locals, Gladys served as a "foot inspector," touring the region to enforce a new law against footbinding (tightly binding young girls’ feet to ‘enhance their beauty’). The work afforded her another opportunity to visit homes and spread Jesus’ good news.

In 1938, Japanese forces invaded central China. Because Gladys cared for wounded soldiers, the enemy offered a reward for her capture, and she was forced to escape. Despite being wounded and deathly ill with typhus, Aylward led more than 100 orphans to safety over the mountains.

During the twelve-day passage, food was scarce and rugged paths hampered the children. But God provided help along the way from Buddhist priests and Chinese soldiers. Finally arriving at Fefung, the children were placed with loving foster parents.

Gladys was immediately hospitalized, a recovery that took months. Once recovered, she opened an orphanage for nearly 200 homeless children.

When life again became too dangerous, she returned to England in 1949, still retaining an unquenchable hunger to lead others to Jesus. So, in 1960 at the age of 58, she opened an orphanage in Taiwan where she worked until she died from pneumonia nine years later.

Her story inspires us to seek God’s purpose for our lives. Like Gladys, even when almost impossible situations discourage us, we should pray and boldly answer His call. She didn’t let her size, lack of education, or others’ opinions prevent her from realizing her God-sized dreams.

Father God, thank You for Gladys’ example of faith to the hesitant, conviction that motivated her to face challenges and overcome obstacles. We desperately need people with her passion for spreading the Gospel. Amen

Bus-todian

 “My children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." ~ 1 John 3:18

In a tiny central Missouri town, children stood on ladders ready to tear off the paper covering new letters on the elementary school building. Swedeborg, an unincorporated community has only two businesses: a quick shop and a gas station.

Most of the town’s 497 inhabitants and school staff had gathered for the unveiling. They eagerly awaited the recognition kept secret until the start of the school year.

When it comes time to name a public building, communities look at either historic or financial contributors and choose a high-profile name that brings recognition. Famous Missourians like George Washington Carver, Josephine Baker, and Harry S. Truman adorn facilities across the state. So, when the School Board chose their honoree, they did so carefully.

With fanfare befitting a legend, the letters scrawled across the school’s entrance read “Claudene Wilson Learning Center.” A slightly confused custodian looked up at her name as people applauded in agreement with the Board’s unanimous decision of a rare celebrity who didn’t like attention.

The retired 64-year-old “Bus-todian,” had been the school’s bus driver, custodian, cafeteria helper, and lawn mower for more than three decades. But her most valuable role was being ‘present’ for the children.

She offered special treats like suckers or candy bars for raising grades, kind actions, or noteworthy successes. “They’re what kept me coming back since 1992,” she shared.

School Board President Chuck Boren said of the beloved handywoman, "Claudene treats every student like they're her own.” He knew firsthand. Wilson's last year at the K-8 school was his first. “When the kids get sick, they go to her first. If there was trouble at home, they go to her. She's so empathetic and attuned to every student.”

“By unanimous consent, our goal in renaming the building,” he added, “was not only to honor her 32 years of service, but also to encourage students to be kind, hardworking, and supportive - just like Claudene.”

One parent remarked, “Claudene was the glue that held our school together. By nurturing and supporting our kids, the entire community rises. Kind-hearted people like her create positive ripples into the future.”

Kristi Cargill, an elementary teacher, appreciated Wilson always checking on them to see if they needed a bathroom break or any classroom repairs, by flashing them a thumbs-up outside the hallway window. “I love coming in from summer vacation and seeing the light’s reflection on the walls and floors because she’d waxed and shined them to perfection,” Cargill added. “She never did things halfway.”

Now mostly retired, Wilson is still on campus every day and occasionally helps drive the bus. “I’m no hero,” Wilson claims, “I just hope the school’s new name inspires people to be more kind.”

Heavenly Father, it's only by following You that we can become a beacon of conspicuous love and humble compassion. Help me be a Godly example by my uplifting words, kind actions, unselfish love, and pure heart. Amen

Violets and Paper Boats

 “Don’t look back, lengthen your stride, and press toward the goal." ~ Philippians 3:13-14

The youngest of 13, Maria entered the world in 1850, nine weeks prematurely. Born to  Italian farmers, she’d remain small, frail, and mostly in ill health throughout her life.

Her Dad read to her from a book of missionary stories, which piqued Maria's curiosity. From an impressionable age, her dolls became nuns and she dreamt of joining a religious order, serving God, and becoming a missionary herself.

Her Uncle Luigi, a Catholic priest, lived near a river where she launched small paper boats to “far-off places like India and China.” Into each, Maria placed violets, imagining the tiny purple flowers were missionaries.

Violets were an interesting choice. Their fragrance stimulates our sense receptors with a sweet, but fleeting odor. Humans can’t register the violets’ s aroma for more than a few minutes before our olfactory receptors ignore them. They’ll return later as fragrant as before.

Despite her deep faith and passion, 3 different Catholic religious orders rejected her application due to her ongoing health issues, including the “Daughters of the Sacred Heart,” who had taught and mentored her. She sailed past that obstacle by taking a headmistress position at a local orphanage.

Eventually, Maria’s work ethic, ambition, and ingenuity impressed Pope Leo XIII. He allowed her to make the three sacred promises (poverty, chastity, and obedience) necessary to become a nun. She petitioned the Pontiff for permission to float on to China, as her youthful violets had done, and evangelize the people there.

Instead of China, the Pope sent her to America, to nurture the growing population of impoverished Italians flooding into the States. The once-frail violet sailed on a wooden ship, not of paper; west rather than east.

In 1889, Mother Frances Cabrini, the daughter of Italian farmers, arrived in NYC with six members of the Order she’d formed nine years earlier, the “Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.”

The violet’s here-then-gone phenomena describe Mother Cabrini’s selfless works. She moved on to Chicago, then Seattle, New Orleans, and Denver. She arrived in one spot, founded hospitals and schools, then left, only to reappear in another city, working just as diligently.

She founded 67 institutions to serve the sick and poor, rallied community support, and showed a knack for leading staff. She cared for people’s physical and spiritual needs with an astonishing energy and tenacity that energized donors.

Then, like the scent of the violet, she left this world after traveling tirelessly for 28 years, setting up schools, hospitals, orphanages, and novitiates. Just like the molecules of a violet’s scent that lingers in our olfactory senses, Mother Cabrini, the Patron Saint of Immigrants, still works for us through her intercession.

Though she had been born in Italy, that citizenship would earn her the title of the first American saint in 1946 by Pope Pius XII.

“Sweet Jesus, help me! I surrender myself totally to you, to serve you faithfully and to attract many souls to Your holy love.” Amen (St. Frances Xavier Cabrini)

Together for a Reason

 “We are God’s handiwork, created to do good works." ~ Ephesians 2:10

Harold’s grandson grabbed a booth while he went to order some breakfast. Workers toiled through the numbness of the job, cranking out orders like an assembly line.

McDonald's had recently installed self-service kiosks. Harold questioned the idea of touching a filthy screen just to get in line to pay for what he just ordered.

Working the cash register, however, was an older lady, well beyond 70 years. Platinum hair and wire-framed glasses; she looked like everybody’s grandma. Greeting each customer with a friendly smile and a few kind words, her warmth brightened the entire restaurant. He sidestepped the kiosk.

When it was his turn, Harold returned the smile. “Your cheery attitude is a ray of sunshine on this otherwise gloomy day,” he added. “Mind if I order here at the counter instead?”

She laughed, patted his hand, and said, “No extra charge, Hon!”

They finished their breakfast and Harold waited for the cashier to take her morning break.  As she walked by their booth, he motioned for her to join them and she welcomed the invitation.

He learned from Loraine that this was a special day at the Golden Arches. Today marked her 44^th year of working for the chain. Franchise owners were hosting a celebration in her honor complete with free coffee and cake. A kind gesture though she’s not retiring.

“Miss Loraine,” started serving friendship at McDonald's in 1979 after her late husband retired due to a disability. He died the following year.

She rises at 3 a.m. for her early weekend shifts. Customers say that she’s the only one who makes oatmeal correctly. “They’re my life,” she offered. “I’ve traveled with them, gone to ball games with them. They’re friends, not just customers. They were my life savers when I lost my husband.”

I'll bet you could teach these kids a thing or two,” Harold suggested.

“We learn from each other,” Loraine quickly countered. “I tend to think longer term and know what it means to commit through thick and thin. I “know the ropes” and am happy to pass along what I know about interpersonal skills like common courtesy and team play.”

“In turn, they help me with computers and my iPhone. Their perspectives are more diverse which helps open my eyes to the ever-changing world. They’re great at thinking out of the box too.”

“We’re together for a reason,” she added.

Harold left the restaurant richer for the experience. It’s funny, he thought, how we work hard for money to buy things. But the things that matter most can’t be bought. They’re given easily and joyfully received. Love, smiles, hugs, laughter, intimacy, happiness, joy, and connection are all free of charge; God-given talents we give each other.

Father God, You’ve called me to thrive and succeed in community, not isolation. May I see the true value of those You’ve placed in my life. Show me what it means to be a real friend who helps others succeed. Amen