One of them sleeps in the soft violet bedroom down the hall. The other one hops around in the pale blue room next to hers. Together, they equal a vast mission field.
My mission field.
And that doesn’t even include the brilliant engineer who needs, too.
There is a lot of talk in the great Out There, right now, about how folks are feeling called to Go and Do.
The older I get, though, the more opportunities I see Here and Now.
We are an emotional bunch, us humans. I don’t want to be All In when the rest of my community feels swept up in a tide of emotion over the latest greatest Giving Opportunity. Or serving opportunity. Or ice bucket challenge.
No. I don’t.
I want, truly desperately want, to be swept up in the understanding that I am always, even right here in this living room, able to give.
A soft place to land for my Sweetman.
A safe place to just Be, free of judgement, for my Sweetboy.
A place to soothe the hurts of relational injustices for my Sweetgirl.
Do you know where your mission field is?
Because, truthfully? I think I just figured out, after forty-some years of living, that mine really is just right down the hall.
And I’m thankful, once again, for the grace galore that is slathered over my rough places, smoothing them down. It’s got to be so almighty trying to watch me chase some illusive “should” down a rabbit hole that was never meant to be traveled by me.
Thank you Jesus. Thank you for shining light so I can get back out. For loving me anyway. For the grace to keep traipsing down the hall in my fuzzy slippers toward the vast expanse of mission field within these four walls.
Please grant me another day to get up and attempt it all over again.
For Your glory.
And my refinement.
I’m asking for Your help here, God. Open my eyes to every opportunity You send my way, to keep reaching my mission field. Make me able to meet the needs of as many as my heart will recognize.
Especially the least of these, at the other end of the hall.