Sally Deserves Better!

Sally’s news shocked me. Cancer cells have invaded her body. She’ll receive six rounds of chemo treatments causing severe nausea, baldness, and for Sally’s family, financial strain. I heard myself thinking, Sally deserves better.

I admire Sally. She and her husband love God and serve Him in the hard places. They have lived in Kabul, Afghanistan, and Amsterdam, Holland for more than 20 years. Currently, in South Africa, they tell people about Jesus, make disciples, and train leaders. I've always thought Sally deserves nothing but God’s best.

That same thought was expressed, shortly after, by someone pleading others to pray for her co-worker. “He’s an amazing guy and brilliant and was in a bad car accident. He’s having brain surgery. He doesn't deserve this.”

The Greatest Thanksgiving with the 'Least of These'

A week before Thanksgiving, my husband, John, and his college buddy, Tim, scouted out St. Paul’s run down central district. Tim, a former missionary kid, persuaded John and I to help feed the homeless. We considered ourselves nothing more than “poor” college students with little to offer this outreach.

A dilapidated diner grabbed Tim’s attention. “Let’s go in.”

Tim gently pushed open the wooden door dangling from its rusty hinges. The stench of grease saturated the room.

“What can I do for you?” asked an elderly lady wiping the counter.

“We’ll have a cup of coffee,” Tim answered politely. The coffee poured out jet-black, thick like gravy, tasting like tar.

“We’re serving a free turkey dinner at my apartment on Thanksgiving Day,” said Tim. “We can feed five homeless people. Would you get the word out?”

On Thanksgiving, I peered through Tim’s apartment window. Four shabbily dressed guests crawled out of Tim’s car and shuffled up the sidewalk. My stomach did somersaults.

A Prayer to Unleash God's Love

 The odor of fresh paint drew me back to when my dad built homes. As a child, I roamed those framed structures, pleased to smell woodsy lumber and hear hammers pounding. Best of all, I recall Dad’s voice, echoing, giving orders.

Dad quit speaking to me when a misunderstanding occurred. Irrationality won. Dad declared, “I’m no longer your father.”  It age 19, I was stripped of love just as suddenly and unexpectedly as fire strips land bare.

Dad’s decision, stated irrevocably, caused deep pain and loneliness. I held onto my hurt, hoping in some way, to protect me from more pain.