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Losing my friend

Robin Rebecca McWhirter

January 20, 2022

Bella 

I remember so well that look in your eyes. 

You had given up, you didn’t even try. 

The shelter, it seemed, was a sad place to be. 

You were abandoned but had tried so hard to please. 

 There was no way I was leaving you there. 

Those sad eyes needed me, and as it turned out, I needed you even more you see. 

 Those eyes so sad changed to joy that day. 

You were home, home to always stay. 

Forever home, forever mine. 

I never planned to say goodbye. 

 The years have gone by so very fast. 

The little puppy grew,  

Our hearts were attached. 

 Running by my side, you brought such joy. 

And when sadness came, you lay quietly by bringing such comfort. 

Your eyes told me you understood and would never abandon me, 

No matter the pain. 

 But now the time has come, and you must go. 

It’s okay my love, you can rest now. 

You’ve done so well, been so good. 

Because you loved me, I can be strong,  

Just maybe not today. 

The tears are now mine to shed. 

 Forever home, forever mine,

 I never planned to say goodbye. 

 Sweet little one, you were so brave.  

You were everything a good girl should be, 

Heaven has a special space for good dogs like you. 

God loves me too much for that not to be true. 

 My Bella, my love,

 You were my friend.

 Forever home, forever mine, 

I never planned to say goodbye.

Foreword

I miss my little dog. I miss her so much my heart feels like it just might break. I think, in fact, it’s already broken. Maybe this sounds all melodramatic or extreme, a few people have said something callous and unkind like she was “just a dog”. How I hate that expression. My Bella was not just a dog, she was my friend. She was family. And today I grieve. I think I’ll grieve for many tomorrows. We all will. 

Love has an awfully high price. Today the payment came due. 

Maybe you’ve loved a little dog too. If so, you might just stay. Maybe you’ll take a seat and join me as I recall the beginning, laugh at the beautiful in-between, and cry at the painful end. And maybe, just maybe we can learn the lessons Bella was sent here to teach. 

How in the world does a little creature who can’t say a word teach life lessons? That’s easy. Her Creator had a plan for her life just as He has for you. He had a purpose, and when her purpose was fulfilled, He called her Home. And because of that, she brought His joy and love and comfort. Some have said dogs are angels in disguise. We won’t get into any theological discussions here, but I believe there is just something special about a dog. Maybe she was an angel, I don’t know. I do know this, she brought a little bit of Heaven with her when she joined the family. And now, we all have an empty place in our hearts that she once filled so well. Let’s get on with the story. Enough tears. So let’s go Bella girl. Help me tell your story. 

The Beginning

Every story has a beginning, and ours started with a new home. Moving is not for the faint of heart. Change is simply hard, and the years leading up to this move had brought multiple changes to our family. New church, new home, new community, kids growing and beginning new phases of life…all these things simultaneously made for feelings of instability and uncertainty. Before we go any further, let me introduce the family. First off, there’s me. I’m Mom. Then there is Tim, the Dad of our family. My boys are Josh, Aaron, and Adam. Hope is the one and only girl of the family. Well, I should say she was the only girl in our family until our Bella  came along. During this transition stage of life, Josh and Aaron were getting ready to head off to college. This part of the life change was hard for the rest of us. Family was simply different without the whole gang around. I thought a pet would help us transition and make Shoal Creek feel like home. Dogs do that for you, they create home.

Our new place was surrounded by woods and a creek and endless quiet. For me, a home is not a home without a family dog. Before the move was even complete, I scoured the local shelters for a new furry friend. Feeling sure I had found the right match, I sent Tim to get the ‘perfect’ dog…a water-loving, adventurous, large size for protection retriever. Yes, I thought that would be just right. What a laugh. Just when you’re positively sure you know what is best, God sends you a surprise. I’m so glad He loves me enough to tell me no. 

Anyway, I guess I could have gone with Tim but know myself well enough to know I would not be able to leave anyone behind if I visited the shelter. I would want them all. And so we waited.

The Lesson of Open Hands

The call finally came. Tim had found ‘our’ dog. I heard the hesitation in his voice when he explained she wasn’t exactly what I had described. It seemed the labs were all gone, but this one was available. The truth was that she was available but overlooked, and that in itself was the strongest draw of little Bella. My tenderhearted husband acknowledged she wasn’t sized for protection and that her liking the water was unlikely, and she seemed a little sick. But here’s the thing. She needed a family. So, that was that. We needed a puppy, and she needed us. 

The kids and I all waited anxiously for the arrival. Kids are awesome. They have no preconceived ideas or prejudices. We adults give them that unfortunate perspective. No, my kids only knew their very own puppy was on her way home, and they were over the moon excited. I guess the first lesson Bella girl taught me was to give my desires to God with open hands and a trusting heart. Seems He knew better than me what I really needed. 

When the truck arrived, a frightened, skinny looking pup gazed up at us. She looked anxious only for a moment, and then that little tail started wagging. And through all her years with us, it never stopped. She knew. We knew. Bella was home.

The Lesson of Following Christ

The first morning she was with us, I knew something was very wrong. She wouldn’t eat and wouldn’t drink. I was worried. Off to the vet we went. I remember her riding beside me in the car, shifting back and forth between excitement and fright. Hoping for a pat on the back that all was well, I was nevertheless unsurprised by the news. The vet warned me of the serious nature of Bella’s sickness and the expense of treatment. She had pneumonia and needed fluid and medication. I stood there stunned. The budget plan had not anticipated $1,200 in emergency vet care. We were just starting to expand our business and funds were tight, but Tim never hesitated. He has always been an amazing caregiver, and I had no fear of his response. Bella was family after all. We notified the shelter she came from of the diagnosis, thinking they would want to know for the sake of the other pups in their care. Instead of sincere well wishes, we got a much different response. We were told to bring her back…to exchange. I’ve never been so shocked in my life. She’s not a sweater with a hole! She’s a living, breathing creature. And she was perfect. Just because she was sick, you don’t throw her away. And I told them so. Maybe she wasn’t able to protect us just then, maybe I was supposed to protect her instead. The second lesson of a little dog arrived right there in that cold, sterile office. Just because you obey God and follow Him, it doesn’t mean there won’t be pain. It also doesn’t mean the path will be easy. Not at all. But it will be worth it. 

Sitting there in the vet’s office, I’ll never forget the look in her eyes. She was afraid, very afraid. When anyone came in to check on her, she would hide behind me and shiver in fear. She needed me. And there it was, the moment I fell completely in love with a little dog named Bella. 

Thankfully she recovered completely. And when we brought her back home this time, there was no doubt which dog was the right dog. There was no questioning if a lab would be a better breed for the creek environment or if a bigger dog could protect the family better. Nope. It was Bella, and it was forever, in sickness or in health as they say. 

The Lesson of Presence

As I mentioned, we live on a creek, Shoal Creek. I could just imagine our new little fur friend frolicking in the creek with the kids. Hope and Adam enjoyed floating down the creek and just hiking up and down the waterway exploring. But Bella was not a fan of water. She was a bit of a diva that way. If the grass was wet, you could tell she didn’t really enjoy getting her paws soaked. But still we tried. Getting in that water was pretty much a no-go for her, well except for the armadillo incident. A little aside here, but the crazy little creature was being relentlessly chased by a quick and determined Bella and jumped into the water in an act of pure self preservation. This was the one and only time I remember Bella joyfully jumping into Shoal Creek. I was so alarmed by the situation that I ran to the swollen creekside ready to jump in and save the determined dog if the current proved too strong for her short little legs. Obviously she made it and so did the armadillo, although I don’t think he ever ventured onto our side of the creek again. Anyway, Bella was not a water lover at all, but she proposed a compromise. We played in the water, and she would run alongside as far as we wanted to go. She sniffed every hole, ran up and down the creek bank, and never, ever left her family. 

Bella was always there, always near. A walk in the woods was, and is, a frequent family event. And so, a little dog walked by our side. As a mom, I knew she was going to accompany her beloved family, protecting and serving the best way she knew, with her presence. And that is a lesson I hope I never forget. People don’t always need my words or my money or my help, but what they always need is my presence. Bella taught me that.

And I know the comfort of presence. She gave me that. Often in times of frustration and disappointment, I found myself walking beside the creek or through the peaceful quiet of the woods. And every single time, my Bella girl was there. She couldn’t speak words of wisdom nor could she offer words of advice, but what she had to give was invaluable. She freely offered the gift of her presence, and that was more than enough. Many a pain-filled day was spent sitting in the grass with Bella snuggled close as I cried out to God for comfort. And He certainly gave it in abundance through a little dog named Bella. I think that is part of what makes losing her so very tragic. She is not here to comfort me through one of the most difficult times of loss, the loss of her. 

The Lesson of Bravery

I think the shelter truly wanted Bella to be adopted. They knew what our family was looking for, a protector for the kids, for all of us. And so they proposed that since she was an unknown breed, a mutt to be clear, maybe she had some German shepherd in her. She would probably be a big, strong dog. Well, turns out that was not what we got. Little Bella was always just little Bella. But don’t confuse size with courage. Agile and swift, she used what she had to protect her family. We learned that first hand one day when Hope surprised a wandering bear in our woods. Bella took no thought at all of her own safety but only knew the bear was a danger to her girl. She chased the bear off without incident, and to my knowledge it never bared its face in her territory again. Bared its face…see what I did there. Got to learn to laugh again, might as well start now. The point is this, it doesn’t take size or breed or any other attribute to be brave, it just takes love. Bella loved Hope more than she loved herself. That is the essence of selfless bravery, others over self. 

The Lesson of Change

Change is the only constant in life, that’s what they say. And I suppose that it is true. The kids grew older and were home less often. But that also meant I was home more. After all, they all began to drive themselves around and so Mom’s taxi service went out of business. Being home meant more time with my Bella. For that, I am grateful. I think that is a change she could get behind.

One change I can almost guarantee my little dog had grave concerns about was the addition of an oversized, overenthusiastic, German shepherd named Nala. One summer day, Bella was running alongside the car up our long driveway (I know, sounds dangerous and obviously was but the joy in her eyes on that run couldn’t be contained), when all of a sudden change pounced on our family in the form of a crazy, happy puppy. Let me explain the context of the word puppy in this situation. She was around 6 months old but tall enough to put her paws on my shoulders. How do I know this? Because that’s the first thing she did, jump up and put those enormous paws on my shoulders and lick my face. And Bella was having none of it! My tiny little girl fiercely barked and charged this young pup who was easily twice her size even as a baby. Nala, as she would be named, humbly lay down at Bella’s feet offering submission and respect. The poor dog looked plain pitiful. She had been sitting at our family sign as if waiting on a bus to come by. She looked to have been on the road for quite a while as her fur was coming off and her ribs showing her hunger. And of course after finding no tag and no owner, we all knew what was going to happen. The family was expanding. Nala, we found out later, means gift. I think if Bella could have talked, she probably would have said she was at best a white elephant gift. Bella was getting older and calmer and the presence of a large puppy wasn’t exactly relaxing to the old girl. I have videos and photos showing the two girls running by the creek. They loved a good chase. The hilarious way Nala would charge Bella makes me laugh and maybe cry just a little every time I think of it. Bella was like a trained matador, watching Nala out of the corner of her eye and turning slightly as Nala charged by her. I just knew one day Bella wouldn’t see her coming and get knocked a winding, but it never happened. Aggravating would probably be the correct adjective that Bella would have used when describing her new sister. Still, there was love and comfort in one another’s presence, we could see that. Nala would casually position herself a little closer to her Bella until she was side by side with her friend. And Bella allowed it and eventually even welcomed it. From walking by the creek to chasing each other through the woods, they were together. Nala and Bella became ‘the girls’ in my thoughts. I loved seeing them lay together by the fire. Each had her own stuffed animal, and we had to occasionally defend Bella’s toy from Nala’s wandering mouth. In time, Bella learned to trust Nala. Having a bigger sister to help her care for the family became a comfort for the smaller dog. In the early days, Nala demonstrated her love for not only her humans but her Bella. Our walks up the driveway and through the woods were occasionally disrupted by the fearsome arrival of the neighbor’s boxers. They were a bit on the aggressive side to other dogs, and Bella was terrified of them. But not Nala. They only tried once to go after our Bella with Nala around. Bella was safe with Nala. Change was not easy for Bella, and I suppose she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Still, she taught me that an old dog can learn new tricks after all. She can change and grow in gentleness and love. And if Bella can do it, well I guess so can I. 

The Lesson of Unconditional Love

There’s a little grave in the woods, tearfully prepared by Tim with a cross carefully designed by Adam. It is beside the creek and in the woods Bella loved so well. There we all stood trying our best to say goodbye but failing miserably. It just doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t seem real. But there is this that remains, love. The greatest lesson this little dog taught me is to love unconditionally, to love without regard to my own well-being. Because sooner or later, love is going to hurt, but it’s worth it. 

Through the years, I have lost many beloved pets. But Bella is just different. I can’t really tell you why. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m older now. I have learned the lesson of relentless, unforgiving time. Nothing lasts forever, at least not here. Life is a precious gift, each day a treasure to be held and then released into God’s keeping. 

For now, life and death is the earthly cycle we are trapped inside. Now is a time to realize we are not home, not here. Here on earth, people grow old, pets die, and time marches continuously onward. 

This isn’t a story on theology, but I do have a thought. The love I gave my Bella created a part of me that has gone on into the perfect forever of Heaven. I just can’t see God throwing away something as precious as love. He’s a good God. He is love after all. So here is my thought. Because I loved her, Bella lives on. However God wants to work that out I can’t say. What I do know is that He loves me with unconditional love, and so I was able to love Bella and Bella loved me. And love is what Heaven is all about. So I fully expect to see my girl again one of these days.

Loss is painful. Loss causes us to question God’s love for us, His best for us. But we can’t allow feelings to overcome the truth we know. Whatever comes, God will never leave my side. Yes, He could have stopped Bella’s death, and He and I have had lots of discussions about why He didn’t. You see, He doesn’t mind my questions. He’s my Father after all. I hurt, and He hurts with me. Sin has brought pain and death to His perfect creation, and so we mourn. But that pain is a terrible yet beautiful reminder that we aren’t home. This is not the end. The grave is not the end. How wonderful that truth is to me. 

The Lesson of tomorrow

Loss causes us to feel anger,confusion, and regret. The what if’s will destroy you if you let them. Yesterday was beautiful. Those sunshine days of watching my Bella run by the creek are a beautiful memory, but Bella is gone. And we will never be the same. She wasn’t just a dog, she was family. We loved her. And so, today it hurts. I haven’t arrived there yet, but my guess is that tomorrow will hurt too. But that exquisite pain is the price for great love, and my tears are the only accepted currency. It is a heavy price to pay, but the love gained is worth the cost. Even though there was grief, I won’t allow that grief to keep me from loving again. 

And so here we are at the end, somehow I must find a way to say goodbye to my friend. But for every ending, there is a new beginning. There is a tomorrow coming without pain and without death. Bella is running happy and free, and one day I am convinced I will see her again. Those snuggles are not gone forever, just for now. Thank you little girl, you were everything a good dog should be. One of these tomorrows, we’ll run together again. Until then, be a good girl. 

Not long ago, my daughter bought a new t-shirt bearing the expression “I Tried” with a photo of Disney’s beloved character, Stitch.

If you know the story behind the cute, furry creature, you know the little guy is a bit on the naughty side; however, he is constantly trying to turn over a new leaf and do the right thing. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tries, the results of his “trying” are usually messy, embarrassing, and simply troublesome. Still, he is beloved for one very endearing reason…he tries. Maybe the outcome isn’t perfect, but you can’t fault the effort.

Friends, isn’t this what we long for, someone to recognize that we are definitely not perfect but we are trying all the same? There should be some credit for that alone? After all, effort is sometimes all we’ve got! So we try…and try…and try.

We like to believe that our hard work will always produce successful results, of course we do. Who wants to work hard and fail? No one, that’s who!
The reality though is that sometimes our trying and working yield less that stellar results or at the very least, unexpected results.

But is that a fail? I guess it all depends on your perspective. That’s a big word. In my opinion, that word holds the power to turn a bad situation into a good situation, or maybe if you can’t go that far, a bad situation into a learning situation. Our outlook is vital to our emotional and psychological health. After all, life has a lot of uncontrollable situations. We can often feel like we are spinning out of control and just along for the ride. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Sure, we can’t control other people’s actions or opinions. But we can control our reaction to them. We can absolutely decide who gets to be a part of our inner circle of influencers. We can, and we should. Get rid of toxic people and toxic situations. Surround yourself with those who support and love you, even when your “try” looks like a “fail”.

We can’t always control the situations that happen to us, but we can learn from those situations and come out stronger on the other side. We can decide that we are going to look hard for the positive, search for the rainbows, and create the calm outlook that says…I tried. Sometimes, it’s all we’ve got. But always, it is enough.

Every supposed fail has a beauty in the ashes, has a rainbow after the storm. I have tried to train myself to have a positive outlook even in the midst of the difficult. My well-planned day goes awry? Instead of letting myself go down the road of frustration and the day is ruined thinking, my goal is to open my eyes to the opportunities in the disruption. Perhaps it is a divine appointment to make a difference in someone else’s day. It really isn’t all about me after all. Then there are bigger things.

Recently, I was involved in a pretty awful car accident, which was totally not my fault. A trash truck was backing down the wrong side of the road at high speed and just ran over my car! Yes, that is what I said. And might I mention this was after a work truck slammed into my parked car? To say I was a little traumatized would be an understatement.

Still, after a little effort (ok it took a lot of effort), I sat on the side of the road and began to count my blessings, to create my perspective. This could have been my kids. Every parent knows you would always rather bad stuff happen to you than your kids. I could have been killed…seriously. One of the guys on the garbage truck chose to be honest with the police and tell the whole story. I met lots of kind neighbors.

Now hear what I’m about to say, I get this whole perspective thing right much less than I get it wrong. Still, I’m trying. I have the tools I need to maintain a healthy mental state, and I’m working on learning to use them. I’m trying, and that turns a fail into a win.

Let’s be honest, sometimes failures come from dumb decisions that we knew were wrong from the outset. When that happens, everything I’ve said is still absolutely true. You tried, maybe wrongly, but there is always a lesson to be learned, a rainbow to be seen. Give yourself permission to make mistakes, but by all means, learn the lesson that consequences teach! Don’t waste the pain and the tears.

Other times, the fails are from circumstances outside our ability to foresee or understand; people leave, accidents happen, sickness comes, jobs are lost. It’s life. But here again, perspective is THE single greatest weapon we possess against hopelessness, frustration, anger, stress, or whatever other reaction comes naturally when failure hits home.

But here’s the thing…it’s just a thing.

What I mean is this: life happens. You can give up and let it defeat you, or you can stand up and try again. This sounds simplistic. I understand that. It’s anything but simple. Or easy.

Sometimes we need a little help standing up again, and that’s okay. It’s more than okay, it’s totally human and natural. We need each other. We should never fool ourselves into thinking strong people should always be able to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. Don’t believe it about yourself or others. It sounds good. It would be awesome. But it’s not true. We were not created to go it alone. We need people; more than that, we need God.

Defeat does not have to defeat us. Sometimes the biggest win is in the trying. Many great inventors failed hundreds, even thousands of times before succeeding ONCE. Walt Disney was fired from a job because he supposedly “lacked imagination”. What a laugh! Imagine saying that in retrospect now that we see Walt’s successes. But what if he had quit? What if he had believed the guy who issued this harsh statement? Disney is well-known worldwide for his amazing imagination. The very thing he was definitively told he did not possess is what he made his greatest success. That, my friends, is perspective. He tried. He failed. He tried again.

That can be our story as well. It’s not a shameful thing to say, “I tried”. I would argue it is in fact a mark of the highest success. It is success, with the caveat of understanding that trying does not ever lead to dead-end failure. Failing is success wrapped up in an ugly, multi-layered blanket. It may look ratty, feel scratchy, and appear to be useless. But failure that keeps on trying peels those layers away revealing a success story that is yet to be told.

So don’t let life’s failures get you down. It’s just a thing. Keep on keeping on. And with the great ones who have gone before us, I’m talking to you Stitch, we can say, “I tried!”

Could have, would have, should have been, 

So says the thief, regret,

She is a siren’s call

Who surely leads to death.

Stay here, look back, live trapped,

She whispers

To the soul in the hurricane.

A stormy existence lost within

A sea filled with doubt and pain.

Mistakes and tears of yesteryear

Wash over this soul in waves.

Mistress of deception, she leads astray 

With lies built on hopelessness.

Look up, look up,

Eyes off the storm

To the joy of mercies new.

The grip of hope is safe and sure,

Regret, that hateful, horrid thief

Must release her hold on you.

No more, no more

Shall lies win the day,

What was, what is, what is to be,

Hold beauty yet undisclosed.

Release what only, might, have been

For regret, you see, is a thief,

Who may only steal what she is given. 

Hold tight, my hope, you’re safe and sure, 

A harbor in the storm.

I remember as a child waking up sniffling and sneezing and generally feeling yucky only to be told the answer to my sickness was glaringly obvious. “You went out in the cold yesterday without your hat…I told you so.” This statement from my dad was echoed many times throughout the years. Anytime I got sick, there was a reason. The reason was typically focused on what I did or did not do to encourage the wrath of the sickness monster. In other words, it was my own fault I had a cold, a sore throat, a stomach virus, etc… But was it though? Science doesn’t bare out your hypotheses, Dad. It could have been linked to my bare head in the winter wind, or it could have simply been germs. Still, even though I know the science of the cold and flu season, the thought still occurs to me when I wake feeling crummy. What did I do to cause this problem? Wrong? Likely. Irrational? Definitely.

We can cultivate general good health with nutrition, exercise, rest, and cleanliness. What we cannot do is prevent all forms of sickness. And if we have this guilt associated with every cold or flu we (and now our kids) experience, how many more areas of our lives does this control-driven angst permeate? Do we blame ourselves and others when difficulties and sickness and negative situations present themselves? Do we allow others to lay blame at our door and permeate our attitudes about ourselves and our abilities and value?

It usually isn’t done intentionally to bring pain or harm. Humans want to have a reason. We want to have the “why”? It helps us somehow to digest the difficult news, to allay our fears, and to give a name to the enemy. To think pain, sickness, devastation, and death could happen to just anyone without any reason is terrifying. Of course, it is! So we search for a scapegoat. Sometimes that scapegoat is thinking we should have known better or that someone else should have told us better. We blame ourselves. We blame someone else. Not in the loud, obnoxious finger-pointing variety of blame, but the quiet, gossipy kind of blame. You know the kind. “Well, you heard about so and so? We need to be in prayer for her because…” Gossip plain and simple. The blame game absolutely played out. Not surprisingly, this is nothing new. If you are familiar with the Bible, then you know the story of the man born blind who was healed by Jesus. Everyone wanted to know whose fault it was that he was born blind! Predictably, most folks blamed the parents. Typical.

I don’t have issues about wondering where my cold came from anymore, but I do fall into the blame trap over and over in other areas of my life, and so do you. For example, insomnia. I have always and forever had occasional bouts of insomnia. For years, friends have tried to help me solve the problem with herbal cures and suggestions. Is this wrong? absolutely not! It is kind and well-intentioned. However, it led to me taking the weight of guilt upon myself for not being able to sleep. Perhaps if I exercised at a different time or limited screens, or ate nuts before going to bed, or the most terrible suggestion of all…give up my beloved sweet tea…maybe then I could sleep. Only after medical tests confirmed a hormone imbalance, did I finally begin to let go of the idea that I was causing the problem. I guess they are MY hormones, but if you’ve ever tried to boss around your hormones then you know it’s a battle you may not win. So, in the end, yes, I can influence good sleep but not always fix the problem. It’s not my fault. It’s life. It’s human.

Then there is weight and body structure, umm basically saying getting fat. It’s an issue. It stinks. It happens more easily after children, at mid-life, during stress. When all those things combine, Lord help us! We look at people at the gym and make assumptions. If they’re “swoll” as my son likes to say, we assume they work out all the time and are super fit humans. If they are skinny, we assume they never struggle with self-image. If they are fat, we assume they don’t work out or are lazy. Assumptions. Wrong assumptions. We all know the saying, don’t judge a book by its cover, yet we still do it. And we judge ourselves. If only it were as simple as we like to think it is. Not all skinny people are healthy, and not all overweight people don’t work out. Health and wellness is a broad category and influenced by many things. We can eat right and exercise as much as our schedule allows yet still have rolls of fat around our middles and stupid cellulite clinging to our thighs. It stinks, but it’s life. It’s human.

Then there are the big issues, the painful fails we feel all the way to our very souls. Why is it we all assume that if we are “good” parents and raise “good” children, they will be “good” adults and make “good decisions? Well, sometimes. First of all, there is never a guarantee that good results follow good work. Secondly and most importantly, none of us could possibly be labeled “good” anyway. Kids make their own decisions and their own mistakes, thus learning their own lessons and winning their own battles in life. We, the parents are helpers most certainly. But at a certain point, we become spectators. God, Himself is the perfect parent, and His children fail at every turn. Is that His fault? No indeed. We have free will, which makes us responsible. So do our kids. Let it go, Momma. It is not your fault when things go wrong with your children. It’s life. It’s human. Your kids are human.

So what are the consequences of this guilt and blame scenario? It’s twofold. One, we harm ourselves by carrying a weight not ours to carry. Everything that happens to you is NOT your fault. Sometimes you make the best decision you can, and it turns out to be horribly wrong. Sometimes, you look back and think you should have known better. Don’t do it! Let it go and move on. I’m not telling you not to research and plan and pray and seek advice. By all means, do so. Try to solve your problems logically and realistically. But, realize you are uniquely you, whether that is a gal who has trouble sleeping, or sleeps like a log, loves to exercise or hates to exercise, struggles with her kids or feels they are near perfection. You cannot control your world. You really can’t. Realize what you can influence and do it; realize what you must accept and begin the process of doing that.

The other consequence of this guilt and blame associated with finding a reason “why” is that you bring harm to others. Whether it is intentional or not, when we lay the success of the failures of life completely on the abilities of others instead of understanding that sometimes…life just happens, we bring guilt and shame and blame. When you hear that someone is sick, don’t start searching for the reasons they got sick while you are the picture of health! Seriously, that is ridiculous and annoying. Take her soup and send her a get-well card. If you think her cold attacked her because of her bare-headed drive in a convertible, just smile and gift her a toboggan. A novel idea came to me one day, and it is this: you don’t have to say everything that comes into your mind. Resist the urge to know it all cause you don’t anyway.

That gal at the gym who really does hate exercising and barely made herself get on that treadmill might be suffering from depression or anxiety or any number of health issues. Give her a smile, not an uneducated assumption on how to fix her issues. Believe me, she needs it. And so do you. And that struggling momma of a rebellious teen, open up to her. Share your own issues, don’t tell me you don’t have them. When you share, she feels free to admit imperfection too. It’s not her fault. Oh, and keep the advice column to yourself. She doesn’t need instruction, she needs a listening ear and a hug. And most of all, don’t gossip. This sounds easy, but trust me when I say it is crazy hard to not show yourself to be “in” by knowing it all about everyone. Be the exception and keep your mouth shut and your heart in prayer.

In the end, our lack of sleep could be caused by too much sweet tea, Lord let it not be so, and our weight gain could be from too many donuts. Still, leave room in your life for the no-fault, no-blame, no-guilt realities of messy, imperfect life this side of Glory. Leave room for mercy and grace to come in, not just in your life but in the lives of all those around you, because friend, sometimes, it isn’t your fault. It isn’t hers either.

Walking in the Rain

You ever have a friend who brings sunshine everywhere she goes? Maybe you are that friend. I like to think I am. And I’ve always been proud to hold that title “Mrs. Sunshine”. I once had a friend who was a little on the Eeyore side of personalities. I was the Tigger in our friendship. And it worked, for the most part. During a particularly rough patch in her life, her husband said something I’ve never forgotten. He said his wife had to “sweep the sunshine out” after I visited. I would smile and think, “good for me, I bring cheer. I bring laughter. I bring sunshine.” 

But I had no idea what I was doing to my precious friend. But I do now. 

You see it takes a different perspective to realize that bringing the sunshine isn’t always a gift. Sometimes it’s a curse. Sometimes it doesn’t heal; sometimes it hurts. But the only way I’ve learned this is by walking in the rain myself. Life is hard. Life isn’t always about getting what you want or what you deserve or even what you need. Life isn’t about working hard enough or doing all the right things in order to be paid back with the good things in life. Bad stuff happens to “good” people all the time. All the time. No one is immune. You have a health crisis even though you exercise and eat well. Your kids struggle even though you prayed for them and led them as close to Christ as you could take them. Your business goes under even though you worked diligently and exhaustively. Sooner of later, you find yourself in the midst of your own storm. The rain pours down, the thunder roars, the lightening flashes. 

And when that happens…the last person you want to see is Mrs. Sunshine. And we are all guilty of doing it. We think we are helping. Our purpose is not malicious but kind.
“Here friend, come into the sunshine with me! All is well. It’s ok. Be happy. Be joyful.”

But here’s the problem: It’s not ok. Not right now. Not in this moment. 

I know. As a Christian, it is totally true that it is GOING TO BE OK. Yes, but in our human existence, there are days that are painful. There are events that bring us to our knees. There are people who break our hearts. Yes, life hurts sometimes. 

And you know what? When it does, we don’t want someone to bring the sunscreen and the bright rays. We want someone to join us in the rain and hold the umbrella. Hold the umbrella and weep. Because if we can just be quiet long enough, our hearts will speak for us. And our hearts will say to our hurting friends, “It is ok to hurt. I am here with you as long as you need me to be. I will cry with you. I am imperfect too. I’ll stand in the rain with you. I’ve got you.”

But here is the beauty of the rain. Rain cleanses. Rain washes away the impurities. The rain may wash away the sand castles, the temporary, the fake. But rain does something else too, Rain uncovers treasure. Many in our lives run for shelter when the storms come; but not our true friends, not our God. He stands firmly in the storm. He knows a little bit about calming storms. But remember, He lets it rage all around you sometimes. The calm will come.

The older you get, the more you realize that there is a purpose in the “rain”. Rain cleanses. Rain washes away the impurities in the air. Rain feeds the rivers and oceans and streams. Life cannot survive without life-giving rain. Nor can we. It is only in the pain and difficulties and betrayals and devastations and fear that we can even come close to realizing our desperate need for the life-giving presence of God. 

I’ve heard it said that crisis creates a dividing line, a decision to be made in one’s life. Where you go from there will determine your destination. Will you turn away and curse God, or will you cling to the only One who can bring purpose from the pain? 

We want God to always bring the sunshine, make us healthy, bring the promotion, answer our prayers with ‘yes’. But sometimes He simply brings the umbrella and walks with us through the rain. 

That’s our calling too. The world is hurting. Your neighbors are hurting. Your family is hurting. Get out there in the rain. 

And by all means, don’t forget the umbrella!

Floating Through Summer

During my childhood, a sunny, summer afternoon was often spent in the creek. Perhaps the terminology is a bit unusual for city dwellers, so let me define the word. A creek is bigger than a stream and smaller than a river but can be anywhere between the two in size (often called ‘crik’ by older folks in my little world). So there you go, don’t say you didn’t learn something today.

Anyway, my Daddy and I found ourselves happily packing for our outings nearly every weekend. Our schedule wasn’t full but quite leisurely back in those days, so it was not unusual to find ourselves sitting on the porch swing deciding now was as good a time as any to explore a new waterway. 

Preparing for our adventure wasn’t overly time consuming and certainly not expensive. I would have never expected to pick up fast food on the way or anything of the kind. No, life was simple and we were content with that. Our food usually consisted of Vienna sausages (only learned the correct pronunciation to that one as an adult when it suddenly dawned on me the sausages might have been named after the location). Then we had pork and beans and crackers. A can of coke was an expected treat and always appreciated.  This was all packaged up in a ziplock bag and carried with us on our creek hike. And nothing could have tasted any better than crackers, beans, and sausages.

Then, we got my tube prepared. I used a very basic inner tube, not your fancy pink flamingo my kids have in the pool but the black, smells like rubber variety. So we would blow up the tube and check for leaks and then attach a strong cord to it. Now this cord was tied to the tube on one end and to my Daddy’s belt loop on the other. Sound strange? The reasoning behind this bizarre plan was to ensure that this little, red-headed gal could float along and play while the fisherman took care of business. While it was shallow, I trotted along in my float from sand bar to sand bar looking for shells the raccoons had left behind after their midnight snack or maybe collecting shiny rocks the creek had smoothed over time. But when my toes left the creek bottom behind, Daddy never had to worry about me drowning. Nope, I just floated right on down the creek. It was ingenious really. We made do with what we had, that is one of the advantages of growing up in the country. 

As far as clothing, I had some old shorts and t-shirts that Mama okayed for the occasion. Usually my clothes were hand me downs from older cousins. Don’t feel sorry for me over that comment. Getting hand me downs was one of the more exciting events in my young life! I still smile when I remember those bags filled with unknown and exciting treasures making their way to my bedroom floor. My cousin, Rita, was my childhood idol, always so stylish and fancy. So back to the clothes, there were approved play clothes and the “you better not let Mama see you wearing that dress” kind of clothes, and I knew which was which. 

My wading shoes on my feet and a straw hat on my head completed the outfit. I don’t remember sunscreen being part of the ritual, although I imagine most of me was covered with the clothes plus the creek was typically shaded most of the way. 

Now it was finally time to leave. Mama never accompanied us on our little trips, nor would I have thought to bring a friend or even want one. No, I loved this time with my Daddy. In those childhood years, I was what one might call a Daddy’s girl for sure. As a parent of teenagers and young adults, I finally understand the sad, almost rejected look on my Daddy’s face when I grew to think I was “too big” for such silliness as a walk through the creek. Oh to go back one more time…

Off we went, onward and upward! I don’t remember having music or headphones, no podcast or playlist. No, we just rode down the highways watching the sights go by, talking about the washed out ditches from the latest rain or laughing at the neighbor’s cow who seemed to find her way out of the pasture more often than not. We didn’t need to be entertained; we made the entertainment. We had an old jeep that was part and parcel of these weekend jaunts. It probably wouldn’t have made the journey to work or school dependably, so it was kept for the weekend. If it just up and quit on the way…and it did…well, that was just part of the adventure too. I remember one breakdown and walking up the road until we reached a house with folks in the yard. Never crossed our minds, or theirs, not to help or expect help. Back then, the community was fairly small and intimately acquainted (aka…everyone knew everyone’s business). Maybe that was aggravating to a grown up, but as a child I felt safe and secure knowing I was seen and known. Neighbors watched out for one another. That was our way of life, and it was good. 

That old jeep has a fond place in my memories. I loved the sound of the engine chugging along. I’m pretty sure we were moving at a snail’s pace down the road, but that was the age of a maximum speed of 55mph and perfectly acceptable. Life moved at a slower pace, and so did our jeep. 

When we made it to our chosen destination, it was always an off-road adventure that met us. I don’t think we had seat belts in that old jeep, but somehow we managed to hang on through those bumps and rough patches of dirt road. Even now, there’s just something about a dirt road that brings a rush of warm memories. There was never an issue with where to park, we were usually the only ones there. I guess it was someone’s private property, but maybe Daddy knew and got permission to be there. Or maybe he didn’t. It just wasn’t a big thing back then and back there. We got our food and floats and fishing gear together and headed for the creek. Oh I did forget to mention the worms. Yep, we had to have bait to catch those fish, and going to the store to pick it up would have been downright embarrassing. A fisherman or woman catches her own worms, of course she does. I loved digging in the warm, loose dirt for big, fat earthworms. I’ve always been a soft-hearted animal person, and even then tried not to think of those worms’ fate. Still, Mama’s fried fish was an appetizing incentive. 

We were ready to go! We found a good entry place, not too steep and not too grown up with weeds, and in we got. That mountain water was cold in the hottest of summer weather. It never bothered me though! My freckled skin would turn purple with the chill, and still through chattering teeth, I would have insisted I was just fine. And I was. 

We would stay in that old creek til it was almost dark. I don’t ever remember getting bored or asking if we were done yet. Even now, complaining to my Dad isn’t something I would easily do and certainly not back then. My imagination had plenty to occupy itself with as I imagined what the little woodland creatures might be doing and what the names of the old snakes slithering out on the limbs to stare at me might be. I usually had a pocketful of shells, rocks, and sticks to take home to show off and put in my little mason jar by my bed. And sometimes, sometimes I just did nothing. That seems a strange concept in our busy, keep it moving world. But I think being able to be alone with your thoughts and do…well nothing, is one of the keys to contentment we might have lost to the rat race era we live in today. I leaned back on my little inner tube and let the sun warm my face, and probably add a freckle or two, and just let my mind drift and dream. Ah…those were good days. 

By the end of the day, the frogs were adding a chorus of sound to the already noisy crickets and katydids. Now I know the little katydids were rubbing their wings together to make their sounds, but back then I imagined all kinds of conversation going on in their little towns and villages. Those sounds let us know it was time, time to get out of the water with our wrinkled up fingers and toes and head for the jeep. I never thought to be afraid out there as the darkness fell. Even now, the woods don’t scare me; they surround me and comfort me. 

We loaded up and headed for home. Our clothes were wet and dripping, but the old jeep didn’t care. It took us just as we were and never complained. 

Home found my Mama, happy to see her wayward travelers safe once more, with supper on the table and the bathtub ready to be filled with warmth for my chilled little self. Afterward, thoroughly clean, I gobbled down every bite of fresh vegetables from our garden along with cornbread, always cornbread. Rarely did we have dessert, and I don’t remember missing a thing. We were on a health kick and didn’t even know it. Not that we didn’t go to the grocery store, but our staple food was from the garden, the creek, and the woods. It was good. It was healthy. And there was simply nothing better than Mama’s home cooking after a day of adventuring. 

With a heart filled with joy and a belly replete with homemade food, my soft bed was a welcome end to a full day. Not every day was good, not every problem was solvable, and no home was without flaws, but that day and many like it created a memory I will cherish for a lifetime. It’s true what they say about not appreciating what you have until it’s gone. Summer never looks sweeter than in the cold of winter. We glance with nostalgia at grown-up children, remembering the tiny hands that no longer fit within our own. And we shed a tear as we realize the strong, steady hands of our parents will not always be there to pick us up when we fall. Time is a harsh taskmaster, slowing for none. Precious are the memories of yesterday, the hopes of tomorrow, but most of all the gift of today. 

By: Robin:)

Prayers and pencil sharpeners. Ok, so travel with me on this hypothetical journey. What if…you have a friend who calls and asks you to pray for her? Of course, as a good Christian gal you will say, “Absolutely yes! Give me that request, and I’ll surely pray. I’ll even write it down in my prayer journal.” (you know, to make it more official). Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not making fun of prayer journals or praying for your friends. Stay with me.

Now, let’s continue with your make-believe friend. Say she tells you her sad tale of woe…she has to write for a living and desperately needs to work. Her lifeline is her instrument of financial security, her pencil. Ok, so no one uses a pencil these days but a keyboard and mouse instead. Remember, this is hypothetical and not logical. I’ve got a point, I promise. Your friend’s problem is that her pencil will not stay sharp. She has asked for help from others and followed all the wise advice. She doesn’t press too hard. She writes equally on both sides of the pencil. She prays over it each morning. Still, the problem persists. The prayer request is that her pencil stay sharp. How are you to respond?

Here you are. You would most definitely be in the right to say you will pray for supernatural sharpness of the pencil. The great God of the universe is fully capable of keeping this pencil functional forever with no further problems. Would you be wrong to offer this help? Of course not. But is there more? What if the answer to her prayer is THROUGH you? God does that, you know. He doesn’t need us to “help” Him answer prayers; He wants us to help Him answer prayers. That’s right. It is our distinct blessing to be asked by the King Himself to work alongside Him in the healing, the helping, and the encouraging. Think of it… God could heal without the help of doctors and nurses, but in most cases, He chooses not to do so. He involves us. He could feed the hungry solely by miraculous means, but generally speaking, He desires His people to donate food and money and time to help those in need. What a calling! So… the pencil. Yes, you can and should pray, but what if God is calling you to put legs on your prayers? What if your job is to go out and buy a pencil sharpener and maybe a fresh supply of pencils? What if you ARE the answer? Not because you or I am in any way replacing God in the answer department, but because He wants to use you in someone’s life. Again, not to say prayer is not enough. God is enough. Period. No discussion. But I know in my own life, it is second nature to take the easy road. A friend, a fellow church member, a coworker, or even a stranger asks for prayer, and we say yes. First off, why not pray right then? Why not pray with that person? What an encouragement. Plus, let’s face it…we are busy. We forget. Don’t put it off. Don’t let it feel awkward. The sooner you obey God, the easier it is to obey God. Truth.

Second, put legs on your prayers. It isn’t always yours to do, but sometimes it is. Can you help with the prayer request? Then do it! Don’t delay. Don’t wait for someone else to answer a call for help that you know very well you can do yourself. Take that meal to the hungry in your community. Send that donation to the church for the cause you feel passionate about helping. Call that friend you know is lonely. Send that card to the one who is sick. Do it, and do it now. Don’t delay; delay allows Satan a window to slip in doubt and embarrassment and most of all busy-ness. So the next time you hear a prayer request, slow it down. Pray through your response. Maybe you, you yourself, are the answer. 

Do what you know to do

(Thank you to Jeremy Law for sharing the wise words of his dad, Mr. Jim Law. It really has stuck with me through this time of uncertainty.)

When You Don’t Know What To Do Robin McWhirter

“When you don’t know what to do…do what you KNOW to do.” This quote was shared by a friend on facebook who was quoting his very wise dad, and these words have been flitting through my heart and mind this week as I lament my inability to help others during this time of virus outbreak throughout our world. The world? Yes, I cannot quite get over the fact that we are ALL facing a common enemy. A relentless, cruel opponent who will seemingly adapt to our every attempt to destroy it. Scientists, doctors, nurses, researchers, plus countless others are working around the clock, quite literally, to combat this virus, Covid-19. To see all of humanity working together towards a common goal is inspiring. But it is also frustrating. I too want to be a part of the solution. I too want to be on the front lines. I too want to play a part in beating this enemy.

I know, I know…save lives, stay at home. I’m not saying this isn’t true. What I am saying is that I want more. I’ve searched deep within myself (I mean what else do I have to do?) to find the reason for this desire. Am I simply an attention seeker? Do I want selfies popping up all over social media showing my “sacrifice”? Do I want others to applaud my fearlessness, my dedication, my faith?

The answer? Sure I do. We all do. Yes, I said that. We all do. We may not always admit it, but we want to be appreciated. We want to be praised. It is a part of human nature, my friends. And it is true of me.
But still. There is more. I really, truly, sincerely, and almost desperately want to help. It is how I’m wired. It is my spiritual gift. It is why I was created. Maybe that’s true for you too.

Yet, here we are almost helpless to help. The quarantine rules, the virus fears, the common sense guidance of churches and organizations have good reason to limit exposure to the few and not open wide the door to every one time do-gooder who wants to mark off “serving with fear and doing it anyway” from the list. But my heart hurts. My church is serving the medical community by offering free childcare while these precious servants go straight onto the battlefield. The daycares are closed; the parents who used to keep their grandchildren are in the danger-zone age range and though willing, truly not able to hold their grand babies. So where do the doctors, the nurses, the paramedics go? They go to First Baptist Woodstock and leave their most prized possessions in the care of loving Believers. Believers who are able and willing to put themselves in the line of fire in order to serve. I want that too. But the truth is this: the church cannot in good conscience or by law allow every member to serve in this capacity. It would not be feasible or possible to keep the virus contained were one of these people to be exposed. It would be a wildfire. A wildfire caused by those who were only trying to help. I get it. I do. But I want to be there.

Local food banks are distributing food. I called. I emailed. I text messaged. Everywhere is the same. The rules we are playing by are new. They are strict. They are wise. But in the end, I’m in the same situation. I want to be there. I can’t.

Then there are more personal battles. My dear friend, Erin, is going to undergo brain surgery tomorrow morning. In the midst of all this crazy, this wife and mother and daughter of elderly parents has no choice but to enter the hospital all alone for a terrifying procedure which she may or may not survive. Did you get that? Alone. When the fear of the unknown presses in, she will not have the comforting hand of her husband. She will not wake to the smiles of her

children. Alone. What can I NOT do? I can’t care for her children. I can’t clean her home for her. I can’t prepare her meals and go visit her in the hospital. I can’t be there, but I want to.

My parents are in their 80s. My dad has COPD. My parents have multiple health concerns which make them extreme risks to this deadly virus. I try to limit my exposure so that I can help care for them. But what are they doing? Going to the hairdresser. Going to Bojangles. Going to the bank. Why, you might ask would they do that? The answer is…I have no idea! We, the family, are committed to helping them. They know this! I cannot control my parents. Unless I take my Dad’s keys… maybe hide the truck…Well, you get my point. Stubborn. That’s what they are. Sweet, kind, loving, they are all that too but a double dose of stubborn. I can’t protect them from this virus. I can’t protect them from themselves. But I want to.

My children. Oh, they’re healthy and doing just fine at home. In fact, in ways they are thriving. Still, as I look at the colorful reminders on the kitchen calendar and get phone reminders of all the canceled events, I am sad. The places we didn’t go, the events that didn’t happen, the people we didn’t get to see…it’s not a tragedy, but it’s something. I watched the disappointment fill my son’s eyes as his long anticipated trip to Paris had to be canceled. Postponed maybe, but it could be a long wait. My youngest son, a college freshman, had to unceremoniously leave his dorm, no fanfare, no goodbyes. I think that’s the hardest part. No goodbyes. Things ended without a proper end. This is not how it was supposed to be. There should have been late night study sessions and laughter. Stressing out together and then celebrating when the crazy hard physics test was over. But no. Life took a turn we didn’t anticipate.

My daughter. She watched as one right after another events were canceled; prom, mission trip, long awaited concerts, camp, spring break. What about the memories that were to be made? What about that?
My oldest doesn’t live at home. He’s not far away, yet during this virus…if you are not in the same home, you might as well be a world away. I missed seeing him on his birthday. That was a first. Most firsts are exciting things – first kiss, first dance, first date, first flight. But not this. This was not a first I ever wanted to experience. But I did.

Then there is just me, just my stuff. I miss my Sunday school students. I miss teaching my handwriting students at our homeschool coop. I miss my friends. I do. I miss hugs. I miss shaking hands or high-fiving the friendly greeters in my church. I miss smiles. Even when I go out for the rare grocery run, you can’t see smiles behind the protective masks. I miss human contact. I do have my family, and I am blessed to be quarantined with people. But what of those who are alone? My heart hurts.

So that leads me back to the beginning of my thoughts. More than ever before, in these last few weeks, I can say, “I don’t know what to do.” But I want to know. I want to take the words of Mr. Jim Law to heart. “When you don’t know what to do, do what you KNOW to do.”

While it is true that I cannot volunteer in person to help the medical community, I can volunteer to send snacks. And I did.
I can’t go in person to the food banks to hand out food. What I can do is donate financially to help them supply the community with much needed supplies. I can text and call to make sure they know they are appreciated. And I did.

My friend undergoing surgery will be alone. I cannot be there. But I can send a card, make a call, order food for the family, and pray. Above all, pray. And I will.
While I could hide the keys to the truck, I probably shouldn’t…no promises if my parents continue in their willful ways…I can do what I’m doing. I can patiently answer the phone many, many times a day just so they can hear my voice and know they are not alone. I can help with the groceries even though they will probably go get some forgotten item anyway. I can don gloves and mask and wash my mama’s hair because her hair dresser is unable to continue

operating and my sweet mama cannot lift her hands above her head to do the job herself. I can and I will.
I cannot force this virus away so that my children do not miss, what to me…and to them…are once in a lifetime opportunities to make memories. However, I can enjoy every, single day in this new world. A new world that feels very much like an old world. Does anyone else feel like you have gone back in time? If my oldest were here at home, it would definitely feel like time travel back to a simpler time; a time when my people have nowhere else to go but home and no one else to be with except each other. It’s not all bad. Truly it is not. In fact, it is some kind of wonderful. Distractions are limited. Time is endless. We laugh and play and argue (let’s just be honest here). But we do it all together. And isn’t that what memories are all about?

And as for me, well I have found new ways of connecting to people. I’ve learned, with a lot of time and patience from my tech-savvy kids, to make youtube videos for my students. I’ve learned to attend zoom meetings with my Sunday school class and my small group ladies. I’m writing more. I’m crocheting. I’m reading. I’m walking by the creek.I’m remembering why I loved learning new recipes and enjoy cooking once again. Because let’s face it…in this current environment, food has drastically climbed the list as the most enjoyable “plan” of the day! Most importantly, I am connecting in a more meaningful way to my God. Life can shift and change; viruses can rage and bring fear. But God…Oh how I’ve always loved those words. But God will use even this to grow me, to stretch me, to better me. He’ll do that for you to, if you let Him.

I long to be useful. I long to be needed. And you know what? The more I allow God to open my eyes, the more needs I see. How often to I search and stretch and stamp my foot impatiently to reach for goals that are not mine to meet? How many needs have I missed because I had my eyes on someone else’s prize? Let that not be true in my life.

My life is full. It is full of blessings, yes, but that is not the full I’m speaking of right now. It is full of people who are full of needs that I am uniquely situated to meet. That’s right. God has fitted ME to meet the needs of those in my circle. Maybe I need to widen that circle, but the point is that it is my circle and not yours that I am to serve. The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. May my focus be God-centered. There are needs a plenty, and I have what it takes to meet the needs of those He has graciously put in my life. I don’t need to wait for the church or the government to meet the needs I myself can meet. So while I may not know what to do all the time; I can do what I know to do. May it be said of me, “She did.”

By: Robin