I get wrapped up in my life. In my own little world. So much so that my own little problems become ginormous. You know, ‘mountains out of mole hills’. Typically my life is simple, which I love but in this simplicity comes boredom and out of boredom comes made up drama. Take my work for instance; I help stock merchandise at a home improvement store. I work with multiple personalities – and sometimes that’s just one person (lol). There are different work ethics. There are different opinions on how to do the work, some are not the correct way and some are one person’s view of correctness. And remember, this is stocking merchandise – not trying to bring about world peace or even finding a suitable candidate for president. It’s putting items on a shelf (well, a little more than that but all in all, simple), and yet it can consume me. I can lose my temper about this work. I can feel overwhelmed by this work. I can mutter about it to myself on the drive home. I can complain about it to my loved ones at night. Mountains out of mole hills. I lose perspective because I’m wrapped up in me.
I have the opportunity through my church to take meals to folks who may need them. It doesn’t happen all that often and when it does, it’s usually for a happy occasion like a new baby. My husband and I carry hot dishes up to the door and are greeted by strangers with smiles. It’s all, “Come in! See the baby. See the flowers. Meet the new grandparents. That’s our dog.” Happy. Happy. Happy. And it’s a blessing.
More recently we’ve delivered meals for different circumstances.
One family lost their husband/daddy tragically. We took hot dishes to the door and knocked. And waited. The door was slightly opened by a tearful person who quietly thanked us for the food and our condolences. As the light from the opened door filtered in I caught a glimpse of the darkened, closed up room - a figure hunched over on the couch. Deep, draining sadness. I choked back tears when we were back in our truck. The ride home was quiet for my husband and me; both of us wrapped up in thoughts of how much we had, and how big their loss was.
The most recent meal delivered took me to a home of hope. Not a new baby. A new kidney. A new reality. A toe being dipped into a new life. “I’ve felt bad for so long, I forgot what feeling good was like.”
That drive back to my home was spent thanking God for allowing me to take meals to others. I thanked Him for reminding me that my mole hills are just mole hills – so small and insignificant. There is so much more going on out there. Many things I’ll never be made aware of, but there are stories of real loss and real gain. When I’m given a glimpse into the lives of others, my life is broadened and enriched, even when it’s seeing the darkness of tragedy.
I know who to pray for, how to pray and most importantly, the One to pray to. I’m reminded that light filters into the darkness and the darkness cannot extinguish it.