These are the glorious, golden days of summer. The senior is off at camp again, this time as a counselor for littles. The sun breaks early just over the barn, and the beloved *BOS hangs, waiting. As I lace up my sneakers, I cannot know that today, I will find my life’s mission. My calling divine…
We’ve shifted happily into summer’s bright rhythm. I arise, brew my coffee, and head to my favorite spot. Jesus and I, we chat. Then I take to the road, and we talk some more with the wind in my hair, greening fields passing by, right and left.
It’s Dude and I, as Little S. is known, and we’re headed for swimming lessons, summer favorite. He splashes, Mother reads, and normally, we go back home. But today, I ask him this question: “Wanna go for pretzels?” as though it’s a question that needs asking.
He picks a table by the window, and there we sit. Mother revels in the tan face and shining blue eyes of a happy muncher who’s dunking his pretzel in cheese. They’ve double-dipped it for us first in melted butter. Oh, there’s a God!
And then I see them.
Just across Goshen’s picturesque Main Street, there’s a lovely, blonde woman helping a frail, old lady across the busy street. One is bent just over a walker; the other, young and healthy, walks ‘longside. I note that she wears an apron professional, and I think, “She must have come from a salon.”
Sure enough. Suddenly, she appears at the pretzel counter. She’s dressed in a Bohemian top with loose, flow-y sleeves, and denim capris cuffed just so. “Paul Mitchell” it says ‘cross the front. So I say it. “I was watching you help that older lady across the street. That was lovely to see.”
She smiles, face lighting up. “That’s what we do. We make sure people get across.”
We make sure people get across.
On this busy thoroughfare with “cars and trucks and things that go,” there is danger for the weak, the infirm. So she helps them. With a hand on the arm and clear eyes, always watching. Step by step, then another, and they’re safe. On the other side.
For this “words girl” today, it resounds in my heart. And I know the purpose for my gifting; my calling.“Delight yourself in the Lord,” the Psalmist said,“and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”
Heart’s desires, God given. I know what mine are. To encourage and teach and to challenge. In short, to help. ‘Cause life’s tough, the enemy’s real, we’re all hurtin’.
But I know this: that I have a Father, that Jesus is my Shepherd, and the Spirit is my Counselor and Guide. And they help me.
My heart’s desire is to do what the blonde woman in the pretzel shop said, “To help others get across.” To support the infirm, the weak, the weary. The hurtin’.
On the busy, often dangerous “Main Street” of life. And Heaven waits on the other side.
This morning, I give thanks for the many who have “helped me get across.” For older, godly women who modeled Christ in the flesh. Who mothered me, spoke wisdom and truth, and who pray for me and mine every day. Your impact is eternal! God bless you. XO
*BOS – Bright Orange Swing