“Come on Sam Sam,” I said, tugging on my dog’s leash, “She’s not home.” He continued to pull on the leash, trying to direct me up her sidewalk. With dramatic whining, it was obvious what my dog wanted; he wanted to see one of his absolute favorite people in the whole wide world, who just so happens to be an elderly lady that adores him. His love does have some part to do with all the treats she freely gives, and all the kisses she smothers him with. But no matter she does; he loves her. He jumps wildly in the air every time he gets to see her, and he wags his tail practically non-stop for the rest of the day after seeing her. It’s the only thing on his mind when we come near her house on walks, and he never fails to tug toward her steps. He doesn’t care if her door is shut, the lights aren’t on, and the car isn’t in the driveway. He still leaps for joy at even the thought of seeing her, no matter how small the chance.
We have the privilege of being able to spend time with God whenever we want. Day or night, weekend or weekday. He’s the Creator of the world, the King of the universe and yet... are we as excited at spending time with God as my dog is about seeing this lady? I know I fail at this often. Sometimes, I get caught in the trap of thinking it’s a chore to get my daily devotions done. When really, it’s a privilege that we’re even allowed to spend time in His presence, let alone whenever or however often we want! Are we leaping for joy when we spend time with God, or are we dragging our feet the other direction, thinking of what else we should be doing with our time?
Kayla Joy
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Sweet Failure
I walked up to the house, slowing down, doubts filling my mind. I don’t even know his name. He’s probably going to have no clue what I’m doing. He’s not going to want to talk. He waved happily, encouraging me.
Just a month back, I’d never even noticed the man before. Sure, I’d passed the house thousands of times while walking to a guitar or piano lesson, but I’d always been lost in my own thoughts. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I noticed him, frail looking, slightly bent over, sitting in a chair on his porch and watching. He was always watching, watching people go past, watching cars zoom by, watching birds flutter from branch to branch. That day was the first day I’d actually noticed him. He grinned from ear to ear as I passed, sat straighter in his chair, and waved. I smiled and waved back, and that was it. I didn’t think I’d see him again, and I didn’t think much of it. But, before long, I noticed him every time I walked past. Whenever I made eye contact with him and smiled, he always looked as if seeing me walk past was the greatest joy he’d had all week long.
It didn’t take long before questions started filling my mind. What was his life like? Was he married? Had he ever picked up a Bible? Was he lonely? After a few weeks of waving at him as I walked past, I felt I needed to do something for him. I baked him sugar cookies the night before my music lesson, and was about to deliver them to him.
As I walked up his steps, I fumbled for the container of cookies I’d stuck in my purse. Unbuttoning the purse, I introduced myself, pulled the cookies out and mentioned I’d made some cookies for him. He smiled, but said he was diabetic and couldn’t have them. I stood there awkwardly with my cookies, thinking how stupid it must have seemed to him to be offer a diabetic sugar cookies. Unlike I suspected, however, this didn’t stop him from talking. Instead, he seemed delighted to have someone to talk to. He launched into an explanation of his medical problems. He showed off a scar on the top of his head, and he seemed to truly appreciate having someone to listen to him. When I needed to go, I told him I’d bring something he could eat the next time I walked by. He smiled and waved while I walked away, seeming truly happy.
I thought I was going to give him some cookies, but when that turned into a failed attempt, I was able to give him what he really needed: my time. God can use even our failed attempts to show us what's really needed. It doesn't catch Him by surprise, even if it catches us by surprise. He doesn't get stumped by failed attempts, not even failed sugar cookie attempts.
Kayla Joy
P.S. To those curious, the sugar cookies ended up going to some happily surprised construction workers!
Just a month back, I’d never even noticed the man before. Sure, I’d passed the house thousands of times while walking to a guitar or piano lesson, but I’d always been lost in my own thoughts. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I noticed him, frail looking, slightly bent over, sitting in a chair on his porch and watching. He was always watching, watching people go past, watching cars zoom by, watching birds flutter from branch to branch. That day was the first day I’d actually noticed him. He grinned from ear to ear as I passed, sat straighter in his chair, and waved. I smiled and waved back, and that was it. I didn’t think I’d see him again, and I didn’t think much of it. But, before long, I noticed him every time I walked past. Whenever I made eye contact with him and smiled, he always looked as if seeing me walk past was the greatest joy he’d had all week long.
It didn’t take long before questions started filling my mind. What was his life like? Was he married? Had he ever picked up a Bible? Was he lonely? After a few weeks of waving at him as I walked past, I felt I needed to do something for him. I baked him sugar cookies the night before my music lesson, and was about to deliver them to him.
As I walked up his steps, I fumbled for the container of cookies I’d stuck in my purse. Unbuttoning the purse, I introduced myself, pulled the cookies out and mentioned I’d made some cookies for him. He smiled, but said he was diabetic and couldn’t have them. I stood there awkwardly with my cookies, thinking how stupid it must have seemed to him to be offer a diabetic sugar cookies. Unlike I suspected, however, this didn’t stop him from talking. Instead, he seemed delighted to have someone to talk to. He launched into an explanation of his medical problems. He showed off a scar on the top of his head, and he seemed to truly appreciate having someone to listen to him. When I needed to go, I told him I’d bring something he could eat the next time I walked by. He smiled and waved while I walked away, seeming truly happy.
I thought I was going to give him some cookies, but when that turned into a failed attempt, I was able to give him what he really needed: my time. God can use even our failed attempts to show us what's really needed. It doesn't catch Him by surprise, even if it catches us by surprise. He doesn't get stumped by failed attempts, not even failed sugar cookie attempts.
Kayla Joy
P.S. To those curious, the sugar cookies ended up going to some happily surprised construction workers!
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