Wrinkled faces and slow steps are what accompany some of the most beautiful people I know right now.
And I LOVE them!
I have seen several people honoring the generation(s) ahead of them recently and I applaud them.
I applaud those honoring and those deserving of the honor.
I cannot see a lady honored for starting a women’s conference with prayer each year for over 30 years, and not be moved.
I cannot see a lady esteemed for parenting 3 generations of children and not want to cheer.
I cannot see the man who greets my little ones in the hallway each Sunday with a smile and a kind word (no matter their current mood) and not want to emulate that in some fashion.
It’s hard to miss the big. It’s right there for all to see. It seems it is a good measurement of how powerful or meaningful something is.
The pastor on Sunday… the speaker on the stage… the position at work… the leadership that one is invited to be a part of… But if we pause and reflect it has mostly been the little things in our lives that have had the most impact.
If you ask me how to lead people. I’m afraid my only answer is “face down.”
Face down planted in the hard work:
It’s holy-hard to follow Jesus. And to look back and see others behind us makes it even harder.
So we keep our face down in the next thing, working hard to put our feet in the next place the Father ordains.
When we expect it to be work we have a better chance of not being surprised when it actually is.
Nine years ago this week my Mama went to heaven. COUNTLESS people have done things and been things when they had no answer to give.
Not long ago I saw a video about a ministry that walks people through hard times. They described one of the volunteers this way, “She was grace. She was faith. She was trust. She was love.”
When I heard this I could have thought of a number of people, but only one face popped into my mind.
Marjorie was the part of the church body that kicks into overdrive when another’s function decreases. She moved as stealthfully as Aaron and Hur. She had me seated and was supporting what I was carrying before I even knew she was there.
“Squished up like a raisin” is not the description you want to hear about a lung, but that is the way the doctors described my Daddy’s condition this week.
A few weeks ago Daddy got sick with the flu that turned into a sinus and upper respiratory infection. My crazy Daddy (also stubborn as a mule) finally went to the doctor and got medication, but at the time it was supposed to work, his condition actually worsened.
Being the stick-it-out, toughen-up kind of man that he is, he failed to call anyone early enough. Pneumonia turned into Empyema. This condition causes the infection to make the walls of the lungs stick together and keep the lung from inflating. He soon found himself carted to the hospital by my baby brother with little choice in the matter.