Three quarters done.
Ten weeks, five days.
Two and a half months of thinking thinking... how can I bless someone today?
It's funny, I feel nervous as the end approaches. A sense of but there's so. much. more I want to do.
And there is so much more to be done.
Our is a mad mad world filled with suffering, yet all throughout the pain there twists this ribbon of hope. Love kindled by beauty in the ashes, beauty in turn kindled by love... ours is to see the hurt and reach out with our hands of love to offer balm.
Fleeting balm, yes. We can never end the suffering. But He can. He has.
All around me, I see beautiful precious children, His own beloved. All He asks is for me to love them. When I stop, when I rest quiet and try to hear, His whisper grows louder.
A whisper of call her. A tickle in my heart write a letter. A nudge make a meal.
It just takes saying yes. And the more I say yes, the more whispers I hear. And the more whispers I hear, the bolder I become. Helping strangers, taking risks.
Deeper and wider.
Reaching out further, into places I fear, but must go. Reaching in deeper, into places so tender, which must grow.
And the question needs asking... who is blessed most by this giving? Is it not me?