The Pastor's Wife. Sunday morning. Arrived early to practice a song. Before teaching Sunday School... Before playing for the morning service... Before cooking Sunday lunch...
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The grief had multiplied... not just my own devastating bereavement, but multiple heartaches of others I love and interact with.
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Grief of loss, grief of struggle, grief of uncertainty, grief of continual discouragements, grief of loneliness, grief of illness, grief upon grief...
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"This is just the ministry..." folks may say. Maybe so, but the cliché has no positive, helpful effect, yet more of a dismissive, negative one. In actuality, most repeated clichés do not bring comfort or strength. Only words and deeds that Jesus would say and do have positive power.
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When I got to the piano, this cheery basket of sunflowers along with a beautiful card were there for me. It was the anniversary of my Dad's Homegoing a year ago.
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The words in the card released my hot tears. My friend has a loving Christian father as I did. She gets it. She remembered. She used her artistic gifts to encourage me on this Sunday.
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The song she sang was thoughtfully chosen, "Finally Home."
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She had no idea how humanly despondent I felt even in coming inside the church, much less keeping up with all the responsibilities, but GOD did.
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HE knew my anguish. HE did not scold me for my heart pain. HE used my friend to say, "I love you. I know right where you are. I know all the things. I am with you, always. You're gonna' be okay."
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No title or position changes our humanity and need for relationships. God created us to live in community. Some acquired titles, such as "pastor's wife," give ample reminders of our need for community, with equal obstacles hindering. We need God Himself!
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Little acts of kindness can be large reminders of hope to someone. You never know just how heavy a heart may be.
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The Pastor's wife. Thankful.
For Sunflowers. For Words. For Friends. For Songs. For Hope.
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~jlw 8.31.22
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